Legion02

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

@Hero, @Dirty Pretty Lies, so sorry! I decided on Jason and I changed it all except the damn header! So sorry again! But it's fixed.

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

@Dirty Pretty Lies, @Hero and @Altered Tundra, here's my character!

Jason Weaver

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Name

Jason Elijah Weaver

Nicknames

Jay (Don’t)

Age

18

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Relationship Status

In a relationship

Label

Jock with some popular influences

Appearance Details

• Hair: Blonde | He tries to keep it short most of the time
• Eyes: Dark green
• Height: 6’1”
• Body Type: Big and muscular.
• Clothing Style: Despite being the son of a prominent banker and fashion mogul, Jacob succeeds in dressing rather casual and honestly a bit boring. With the same sorts of t-shirts and jeans.
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: He has a small scar on his right ring finger knuckle.

Personality Traits

Loyal – Charismatic – Clever – Condescending – Manipulative

Jason has a certain way of looking at the world. A way that doesn’t always resonate well with everyone. Yet it makes him find like-minded individuals to befriend rather easily. Because he often voices what many only dare to think: that wealthy people, especially the kids, are better than average ones. To his friends though, he is extremely loyal and giving. A trip to Ibiza? Why not. Front seat tickets for an NBA match? He got you. Want to go hunting in upper state New York? He can arrange it for you. Jason will do everything to keep his clique “fed” and happy. In turn though, he expects near blind loyalty. If he asks something of you, no matter how weird or offensive it is, you must do it. If not, you will learn just how quickly you’re left in the cold. Of course, nobody gets tested immediately. No, it’s almost as if he indoctrinates you into his circle. Others would compare it to selling your soul to the devil. But in all fairness to the devil, it can be a very tempting offer.

Which also means he got some very feverish enemies. Ranging from insulted socialites, hurt nerds to even the higher echelons of King’s social hierarchy. And in a plain way, he can be quite a bully if you’re “wrong” in any way to Jason. And there are many ways to be “wrong”. Nerds are almost universally despised because of their sheer lack of athletic ability. Others can be looked down upon simply because he believes they didn’t earn the wealth they were born in. He can be a pragmatic idealist as he believes that even though most people at King’s were born into wealth, they still had to earn it in some way. A view he adopted from his mother’s family. In the end, it all depends on whether or not you fit a certain bill.

However, not all is perfect in Jason’s life. But showing weakness is a cardinal sin for the Moregan family. So he keeps it all under a wrap. Deep down he feels extremely overwhelmed and entirely friendless. Mostly because all his friends are so ‘close’ to him simply because of what he gives. Not of who he is. So who is he? He’s a scared kid, fearing that he’ll buckle under the weight of all the expectations. He’s not so imbalanced that one wrong push can make him fall and fail. But there is a very real threat of collapsing.

Upbringing Synopsis

To understand Jason’s upbringing you first need to understand the ancient, prestigious and affluent family: Moregan. A family characterized by models, politicians, business owners, board members, bankers, and fashionistas. The whole family values its traditions and conservative values above all else. It does not suffer fools. In fact, the patriarch of the family decides on the “allowance” of any family member. As a way to make sure to teach the proper values of life. It’s been quite effective.

Jason was born to Jacob Weaver and Elizabeth Moregan. The third child of the patriarch Solomon Moregan. Jacob is a talented and shrewd banker helping Miss Moregan on a hostile take-over of a rival fashion brand. The result was Black Lotus, a high-class fashion brand appealing to the femme fatal. After the many months together working together created a bond between Jacob and Elizabeth. When he was accepted into the family (after a few favors for the family to prove his loyalty) they married. As tradition stated they had a child within 3 years of their marriage and as it usually went, the child was raised mostly by nannies. Jason did not have incredibly much. No more than most children his age. He had enough and had a rather average upbringing until he turned 11. Jason’s first “allowance” came in. The kid realized what money could really do. His twelfth birthday was ways greater than his eleventh. Which made him considerably more popular with his friends. Not long after his birthday he got invited to the decennial Moregan family meeting. Which is less of a cozy than the average cabin get-together. Jason met his cousins and extended family. Each of them was either an accomplished person or still young enough to receive the allowance near conditionless. For five full days, he heard just how glamorous life could and would be. However, it was his meeting with his grandfather that really stuck with him. It was at that moment that he was explained the conditions. But let’s face it, a kid of 12 would not entirely understand such circumstances. It was on his 14th birthday, that he did understand. As he was told the story of his cousin. See, his cousin (Kieran) had a bit of about in San Francisco. Instead of joining an influential tech giant he tried to ditch his family and join a start-up he truly believed in. The very next month his allowance was cut. With every month he lost more and more until he didn’t get any money at all. But Kieran was stubborn and refused to back down. So the family took drastic measures. The start-up was bought up under the covers and shut down literally over the course of 24 hours. Kieran was blacklisted and couldn’t find any meaningful work. Still stubborn, he worked as a barista for six months. After which he was cracked and feeling hollow. With bowed head, he returned to the family on his knees. Not wanting the whole matter to become too public, the Moregan family accepted his return but Kieran was never the joyful and bright-eyed cousin Jason had again.

So Jason now fully understood the expectations and consequences of his life. Since then he has never worked harder, never played harder and never stopped in an attempt to impress the family. And quite obviously he was rewarded for that tenacity. He got gifts, money and other rewards he didn’t fully understand but did love. Obviously, these kinds of rewards gains the attention of a certain class. It was around this time Jason got to know Catherine. A stunning girl of the same age. Jason fell like a rock for her and she did feel the same way about him. At their school, they became a power couple. Depending on each other and their love. Which was quite needed as Jason’s father Jacob was hit with leukemia. It was a terrible fate to have but Jacob was not made from the fragile stuff. The man, in quarantine at the hospital, refused to put down his cell phone. He would continue work as much as he could. Eventually, he had beaten the worst of it and was allowed to go home. But Jason was horrified. The man that came home was a hollow version of his father. A man tired, thin and sickly. He couldn’t bear the sight. Sadly, Jacob could not fight any longer. He began to bleed internally and collapsed. When the EMTs arrived he was already dead.

Normally Jason would have gone to school in New York City. But Elizabeth decided to get away from the big city. She herself never felt anchored to it, that was all her husband. Following tradition, she went to Florida. Jason would go to King’s and that was that. To this day Jacob considers his mother’s actions cold and almost cruel. Though is therapist insists that it might be her way of coping with the death of her husband. Never the less, Jacob quickly adapted and in fact thrived in a social climate like King’s. But despite the numerous upper-class hotties walking around, he remains loyal to his Catherine. Who remain in New York, more than a thousand miles away.

Family

• Jacob Weaver (Deceased) // Father // FC: Damian Lewis
• Elizabeth Moregan // Mother // FC: Claire Holt
• Solomon Moregan // Grandfather // FC: Bill Nighy

Misc.

Bradley James | 9e0b0f

• Practices MMA next to football, but doesn’t do it competitive
• Song of the month: Tinashe - All hands on deck

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

Thanks! I'll make my character right after I worked my way through all the existing ones!

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

Quite late to the party but can you still join here?

Wᴇ Aʀᴇ Tʜᴇ Cʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ

Is this still open?

✢ Affairs of the Court ✢

@Congee Really sorry to ask this but do the titles also apply to Euhijan? It's just that the nation seems more Asian inspired and I think they have other titles. Then again it might just be for simplicity sake. Anyway I just want to make sure I make my character using the right title.

GODSPEED

@Agent 47 I think my CS is ready to be judged!

GODSPEED

Helena Carter

Name: Helena Carter
Nicknames: Helen, Hel for close friends
Age: 17
Birthday: 25th of January
Gender: Female
Reincarnation Of: Hecate

~

Height: 5'7"
Weight: 54kg
Physical Description:

Helena's hair is often the first thing people see in the far off distance. Its natural pitch black stands out from the bright sun. Somehow, many people believe it's dyed as no hair could be that black. But it's natural, and above all well maintained. Helena keeps her hair combed and washed. She puts a lot of effort into making it look effortless and breezy. Just because she wants to. When coming closer and talking to her, many notice her second feature. Her striking grey eyes. Which somehow look strong but powerful. Her skin is quite pale, for rather obvious reasons. Helena dresses for comfort. But often this strikes some as if she was dressing to impress.

~

Personality:

Helena never felt the need to exceed in anything. Her life was never a race, it felt more like a journey. She loves learning, be it getting to know people or reading from books. Her parents don't really have the time to look after her. Even though they love their daughter very much, her mother is terminally ill in the hospital and her father is working hard at his job. An escape from the hardships back at home. While she sometimes wished she had more attention from them, she understands the situation and mostly tries to not get in the way. This gives her a strange freedom. The freedom to come and go as she wishes. Helena firmly believes in helping others above all else. She's extremely loyal. Though her lifestyle often makes her lonely.

Likes:

Graveyards
Dogs
Polecats
Midnight walks
The stars
A good story
Ice cream
Parties

Dislikes:

Hospitals
Physical Exercise
The voices
Sickness
Jocks

Fears:
Going Insane

Since recently she's been hearing voices. Quite obviously that's generally not a good thing. She fears that she's going insane. Helena hasn't talked to anyone about it yet, though it's clear that since recently something changed in her.

Her mother dying

Her parents try to protect her from it. Maybe they believe their little girl can't take it? Whatever their reason is, she's suffering under it. Her parents never had a real talk about what happens when her mother dies. Now she fears it happening.

Ambitions:
Become an artist

Should anyone get into her room (not that it ever happened), they'd see it filled by charcoal drawings. Portraits and landscapes altogether. Sometimes they're drawn from real life. Other times it looks like utterly fantastical.

Backstory:

By all factors, Helena's life was bound to be rather standard. She grew up in a family with two loving parents and a much older brother that really loved his little sister. As a small child, she was very quiet but quite adventurous. She'd 'vanish' suddenly and her parents would find her wandering near the woods, in the garden or on the beach. All alone. The older she got, the further she went. Until school got serious. See, Helena is a very clever person yet her grades don't reflect that. She loves history and English but detests maths. As a punishment for her bad grades, her parents often times tried to keep her inside. That used to work. Until her mother got sick.

Helena still remembers it quite clearly. For several months she's been fighting her mother in all the petty ways a teenager fights her parents. She was rebellious and wouldn't listen to a word she said. It reached a boiling point and turned into a yelling match in the kitchen. Both sides were raising their voices more and more. Until her mother began to cough. First, it was just a tiny cough and the woman just kept up the fight. But soon she could barely breathe. Helena's furiousness didn't stop though. She just kept yelling until her mother fell to her knees and coughed up blood. Fives minutes later and Helena was trying to fight back tears as she tried to explain to a nurse what happened. It's a moment she's still haunted by. Since then she did everything her parents asked. Even though they didn't have the highest expectations anymore. In fact, with her father working as hard as he does, Helena now has the freedom she yearned for. But at what price?

~

God-Given Power:
Necromancy

Hecate was once the goddess of Necromancy. While these days it is often frowned upon in fiction, back in ancient days necromancy had an entirely different connotation. Many heroes sought out witches and sorcerers to speak to ghosts. Demi-gods such as Heracles oftentimes descended into the Underworld with the help of such a sorceress. Never the less, there are darker purposes of this kind of magic.

Helena's powers are fledgling but growing. Sadly she does not know what's happening. Right now she can hear distant voices. Sometimes talking, sometimes wailing. She does her best to ignore it but deep down she fears she's going insane.

Sorcery

Sorcery, magic, it was all far more common in ancient days when people knew what to fear. These days, technology has cast a light into the world and magic, like a shadow, crawled back. But that does not mean it's gone. The mystical forces still linger in the nooks and crannies. There are still miracles in this world.

Sorcery has rarely revealed herself to Helena. She does not possess the right knowledge, understanding, materials, and will-power to command it. And if she never gains those items, she may forever be subject to the whims of strange forces she may never understand.

~

Extra:

Mass Effect: Insurrection

There was a little smirk on David's face. A proudful one. The human councilor hit all the right buttons, making most patriotic humans beam with pride. For during the Reaper War, it was Shepard who united the races. Not an Asari diplomate or a Turian war hero. No it was a human who accomplished it. And because of him, the war was won. After the speech, David joined in with the clapping. Which was soon cut short by the light failing. "Guys... what's happening?" he said through his voice comm, seeing if anyone had a clue. Darkening a room as filled as this one was basically asking for questions. Right after he possed his question, he heard the very audible sound of metal canisters hitting the ground and the hissing noise of gas pouring out. "Crap." he said to himself. He quickly put on his rebreather, after which he ducked into cover and opened his comm. Long range communication was jammed. It didn't matter, there was a protocol for this. He beamed the Emergency Protocol code through the classified channels. He couldn't see it, sadly. But he knew, the second that signal sent the Destiny Accession would come racing for the Presidium. "Emergency protocol has been activated. Get the council to the nearest bay! I'm going to assist the crowd control." David said through the security voice comms. Before jumped out of cover. Nebulous power formed over both of his arms, charging his biotic powers. Right in time some jet packing fool landed in front of David and took aim at him. Before the Turian knew it, he was flung against the wall with bone shattering force. A corpse landed right next to a pocket of dignitaries, protected by three C-Sec officers.

"You three! Move to the door! Form a perimeter. Keep the gas canisters and hostiles away." He wasn't entirely calm when he barked the orders. Though maybe that was why they did follow them. He then turned to the civilians. Some trying to get up and following the C-Sec officers towards the door. David was in his element, in the midst of combat with poor visibility. He even turned on the lights on his chest armor but the gas was obscuring most of his vision. The civilians though, they were not prepared for the confused screaming and the desperate gasping for breathable air. "Is anyone injured? Anyone injured?" he kept asking the civilians as he passed them. None looked incapacitated, luckily.

His visors gave him an inkling of where the hostiles and friendlies were. But through the gas, it was still not easy to tell. So he did what anyone would do and just ran straight into the cloud. Soon he reached another pocket of civilians. This time, they were unprotected. Before David could reach them, two Geth passed them. Though their crowd control felt a lot more like sirens going off. At least they killed the bad guys. David reached the group, crouching down with them behind cover. "Is anyone hurt?" He asked. One Krogan clutched his side. David could see the blood, but the Krogan caught him staring. "I'm fine." the giant lizard said with an elder gruff. "I ain't dying from some gut-shot in the Citadel." David just nodded and glanced at the others in the group. "This isn't good." the Krogan added. "Too many civs, too little guns and those canisters will kill us all if we stay here for much longer." Once again David nodded. Realizing this was no ordinary Krogan. "Listen, there's a perimeter being set up around the door. If you can, try to help force the damn door open." This time the Krogan nodded in agreement and got up. David took advantage of the moment and addressed the whole group, which were mostly human, Asari and Turian: "Follow this Krogan. If you're a biotic, trying to help with the door. If not, just stay in cover. We're getting out of here, okay. But we do it together." Slowly but surely the civilians began to trickle towards the door. Under the watchful eye of David. Though with every flash and explosion overhead, he got a little more nervous with every bang. "Snipers, be advised there are civilians moving on the ground. Be careful when you shoot a jet trooper." He said through the shared security channel.

Prized Bride (A New Beginning)

Keregar

Warlord of Kereg-Kor, Husband of Xaelia_@Ellion and Nadia_@Vesuvius00
Interacting with: His brides and Ineraz Evrenarth @SilverPaw

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One guy got a little rowdy with the twins. He was just a tiny bit smaller. But certainly in the prime of his life. Maybe it was that youthful arrogance that fueled him. Never the less, he went straight for one of the twins and tried to beat him down. Only, the twin didn’t drop. He took the hit, square on his jaw. The group stopped, everyone jumped back in shock. For split second there was a sensible tension in the air. Like lightning was about to strike from a clear blue sky. But lightning didn’t strike. Instead, Histvich turned to face the one that attacked him. With a furiously scowl on his face. The guy tried to back up, but the tight pack behind him could barely open to let him pass. “Come here!” Histvich yelled as he jumped into the group, hunting him down like some animal. Some fell to the ground. Others into another. “Histvich!” yelled his twin in caution. But he was already gone, hunting his assailant. Before him though, more fists were thrown in anger. “This is going to be a riot.”

Keregar stepped up to his son and put a hand on his shoulder as he saw the violence spark. “Good. It’s been a while.” He said. Herstvich imagined a smile under his father’s stone face and formed one of his own. He raised his weapon and started charging with an exuberant shout. Keregar, without even turning, said to Varzar: “Get the gems into safety.” After which he tightened the straps on his metal gauntlets. For a split second, he did break a grin. It truly felt like a decade he last had a riot. They used to happen all the time back in his younger years. When everything felt so much more dynamic. Son kills father. Brothers fought wars. Conquest delivered upon any race’s doorstep. In a way, the Anathos wars hadn’t just changed the Gems. The times now, they felt strange. Foreign. So much of tradition had changed. Drakka was tamed. Maybe it was true what they said. Maybe Drakkan weren’t meant to live long. Maybe they were just expected to die gutted in a wild forest. Or bleed out on a battlefield. And maybe, that fate had now changed. Whatever it was, Keregar felt a strange sorrow coming over him. A sorrow that was quickly pushed away and replaced by rage.

Varzar didn’t feel so good. There was a definitive bitter taste in his mouth. Was this how father always felt? If so, no wonder why he always treated everyone and everything like crap. His stomach hurt so much, it felt like he was poisoned. He had filled his drinking sack with the stuff. Because while it made him physically ill, it also made him incredibly numb to everything. The whole world felt so far away. The mixture he made from the various boozes in the cellar might have tasted like the piss of a great Hornrat back home, it did make him feel numb. Like he wasn’t obligated to feel sadness or anger or confusion. No he just felt nothing. Still, when Nadia made a comment, he felt a short pang. “I- Do-“ in his nebulous mind he couldn’t really formulate a good answer to her remark. Did the market really look like the ones in Gemmenia? “Drakka is actually-“ he wanted to say, when Nadia commented on how much more colorful the marked looked. But his stomach didn’t like him opening his mouth for anything other than the unholy cocktail he had made. The cramps made it quite clear to him that he shouldn’t speak, and he did instantly shut up with no follow up.

He tried his best to stumble behind the group. Though it had to be obvious to everyone watching that the little Drakkan was quite beyond himself. This all lasted until a dead silence fell. Varzar couldn’t see what had happened in front of the group. He just knew that suddenly the twins were gone and a very real fight had broken out before them. Adrenaline has a weird effect on a brain under influence. It makes everything sharp again but at the same time, he had barely any real sensation in his muscles. When his father ordered him to hide the gems, he was ready. Except when he looked up, Xaelia was already gone. “No… No! No! No!” He yelled out. To no avail. Xaelia was gone. In his panic he grabbed Nadia, but in his rather physically senseless state that might have been a bit too forceful. The young Drakkan pulled her into the nearest tent, where a vendor looked quite surprised when they ran behind his counter table. “No! You’re not allowed to-“ but Varzar felt a strange sense of courage boil up. “Shut up! We’re hiding here!” the vendor wanted to pull his dagger, but right then a Drakkan was thrown through the tent roof into the store. Varzar overthrew the table, letting everything on it clang onto the floor and pulled Nadia behind it, so both were hidden. The vendor had already fled with most of his gold. Varzar, immediately pushed a hand over her mouth and put his pointing finger over his lips, bidding her to be quiet. “Where the hell… am I…” the dazzed faller said as he rose up. Varzar peeked out, just when the faller turned towards them. “There there, what do we have here.” The new Drakkan was a head taller than Varzar. He looked about a 150. Varzar dropped back behind the counter and put his hand on a the pommel of his dagger. “Come out now. I’m not going to hurt you.” The Drakkan said gently. “I know you’re here!” Suddenly he turned the corner of the toppled table. Varzar jumped up and pulled his dagger. “Not a step closer.” He said. “What do we have here. A little Drakkan and… is that mommy?” the Drakkan said with a rather demeaning tone. “How about I let you live and you just step outside, eh? No need to make this all ugly.” But Varzar kept himself between Nadia and the creep. “Come now. Just let me have a little taste of-“ the Drakkan, seeing no real threat in the little one, took two steps forward. He never had a chance for a third. With a deafening war cry Varzar charged him and pushed the dagger into his stomach. The larger Drakkan yelled: “Bastard!” as he dropped to a knee and tried to cover the wound. But Varzar, in his rather hazed state, didn’t feel done. He felt like a dam had just broken. An impossible amount of emotions flowed over him. Everything at once and it all turned into uncontrollable anger. He couldn’t speak, only scream in the incomprehensible language of rage. He pushed the Drakkan over and jumped on him. Then he stabbed him. Again. Again! Again! Blood spurted out of every wound and began to cover the little one. But he kept on screaming. Even when blood squirted into his mouth and onto his eyes. He kept yelling and stabbing even when he could barely see. His knife hit bone, organs, cartilage. Every time he plunged his knife into the now lifeless body he felt something else. Some other smoothness or resistance. Eventually his own rage wore off. Varzar couldn’t even hold on to the blade now. His arms shook as he dropped the steel on top of the corpse and crawled off of it. Even on arms and legs his entire body shook. A sickness, a wrongness rose up from within him and he puked on the floor there, next to the mutilated body.

Hirstvich was in the midst of battle, thoroughly enjoying himself as he slammed an axe into a face. Who was it? Why did he do it? Who cares? It was all in the name of the War God. “Drunn bless me!” he shouted as blood spat out of a fresh wound. He had just thrown some guy away when he finally reached his twin, who was thoroughly enjoying himself as well. “Hey bullneck!” Another Drakkan challenged. Both the twins turned to him. Then they looked at each other. “He’s mine!” Herstvich yelled. “Mine!” Hirstvich yelled back. Before the challenger could even react, two giant Drakkan charged him with horns up front. But it was Herstvich who impaled him on them and threw him over. After which Histvich pulled him up with his hair. “Which one of us is the Bullneck.” But the wounded challenger couldn’t say anything, not with two punctured lungs. Not that Histvich cared. He just slapped him. “Well?! Who is it?” The soon to be corpse just spat out blood. “Ah that is just unasked for.” Histvich said, after which he pulled his hair further back and cut the throat open. Herstvich, in the meantime, had already been swept away into some other brawl. Suddenly someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, ready to punish whoever dared touch him. Only to see a friend. “Alreg!” He yelled excited, as he put both of his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Alreg did the same, stabilizing themselves from the pulls and pushes. “This is the best riot of the year!” Alreg shouted! “I know!” Herstvich yelled, after which he headbutted his friend and carried on with the fight.

Finding Keregar could never be hard. You just had to find the source of blazes and large boulders being flung around. Reaching him, however, was a whole different kind of labor. He stood in the middle of all chaos. Surrounded by brawls of their own and challengers who wanted to take a swing at a Drakkan. Some knew he was a warlord, others didn’t. Keregar held in his left hand a searing hot chain he had looted from a corpse and a Warhammer most would have to wield with both hands. “Come on! Are none of you worthy!?” he challenged. And the challenge was answered from Drakkan all around him. But none could reach the Warlord. With every hit of the chain blazing flames erupted from the red-hot iron. If they come too close, a literal stone crushing strike of his hammer dealt a usual fatal blow. All around him the earth had cracked and fire raged unchecked. They were joined with spikes of ice and strong winds. It was pandemonium, chaos, a small moment of war within the very streets of the capital. It was joined with not just blood, rage and glory. But also with mud, dirt and the ugliness of death. And within the heart of that chaos was Keregar. Marked by fire and stone. But eventually, the fighting had to stop. The survivors either crawled or hobbled out. While others looted the dead and the left behind stalls. Not that there was all that much value left behind. Only then Keregar found Ineraz. Right when he sat down on a stump of rock.

Keregar smiled as he clutched his bleeding side. “Meeting after being blood-soaked. I see it as a good omen.” He returned to Ineraz. “I want to invite you and yours.” He said, motioning to his gems. “To Kereg-Kor. What say you, Ineraz, famous hunter of Drakka. Would you honor an old warlord with a hunt?” He said, after which he kept silent for a minute. Behind him Varzar appeared from his tent with Nadia close by. The little Drakkan looked like he just crawled out of a grave. At the same time, the twins rejoined their father. Each wearing huge smiles and drenched in blood.