Lugubrious

The Crucible - Winner Take All

NPC character for your consideration, @Lugubrious. Introducing Bartholomew K. Runch's sharp shooter, the honey badger.

Joanne Schrodinger

Name: Joanne Schrodinger
Alias: Trickshot Jo'
Race: Honey Badger
Sex: Female
Class: Sharpshooter
Equipment:

• Dual Revolvers - Sporting powerful rounds and six chambered cylinders, these babies are Joanne's number one weapons of choice, capable of putting a dent in metal armor if aimed correctly.
• Derringer Necklace - A single-shot derringer disguised as a necklace piece, Joanne saves this for moments when it'd be best to catch her opponents off guard. Not very powerful and with only one shot, it can only be used for well-placed surprise attacks.
• Trick Ammo - Various specialty bullets she uses with her six-shooters which range anywhere from small gas rounds to shock rounds to rubber ammunition which can be bounced off of surfaces to strike targets from unique angles.
• Bowie Knife - Only used when she has absolutely no choice but to get in close, this tough knife is great for stabbing and slashing.

Abilities:

• Impeccable Aim - As a trained sharpshooter of the highest caliber (pun intended), Joanne Schrodinger's aim can mystify and astound the masses. It's nearly impossible for her to miss, even when performing death-defying feats for the entertainment of the crowd.
• Circus Side-Show - Joanne's not just a shooter, but a performer. For years she was expected to fire off shots and hit bullseyes while acting the role of a daredevil, swinging from the trapeze and being fired from a cannon. As such, she's highly maneuverable and light on her feet with astounding balance.
• Badger Body - Despite all the above, Joanne is still just a honey badger, with the strength and fortitude of one. Once she takes a good hit, there's not much else left. As such, she's likely to take by far the least amount of punishment of all contestants before going down and out.

Fighting Style: For Trickshot Jo, fights aren't just fights, they're performances. As a performer herself, she needs to inject as much flash and flair into the battle as can be mustered. This serves two purposes, the first acting as a distraction and demotivator for her enemies, and second to rub their faces in how great she is. Of course if an enemy proves to be too difficult to battle while making a show out of it, then she'll forgo style and pomp to focus solely on the actual fighting. As a sharpshooter it's no surprise that range is her best friend, especially since her small animal body isn't capable of tanking any strikes up close and personal. It goes a little beyond the normal "keep my distance and unload" strategy, though. Her shooting is strategic, meticulous, and full of style. She keeps moving, sets up traps, fires around corners (with bouncing rubber bullets), and keeps mouthing off the entire time just to piss off and trip up her opponents.

Personality: Joanne Schrodinger's mannerisms are the very embodiment of the stereotypical black sassy woman. Short tempered and ornery, she doesn't take any crap from anybody. Quite proud, she shows excellent confidence in her skills while putting on a big show of bravado. Half sincere and half show, it is intended to let others around her underestimate her true prowess. She is genuinely respectful of those that provide her with the same, but her past of being judged based on appearance colors all interactions she has with people now. No non-sense, all business up in here.

Bio: Born 7 years ago amidst a populated island with bountiful wildlife, it was apparent even from a young age that this little honey badger wasn't like the rest of her family. They walked on four legs, she walked on two. They ate wild insects and small mammals, she preferred to cook her food and season it first. They hunted with their paws and teeth, she preferred to craft tools. It was very strange, but there was one way in which she was the same as all her own kind: They all had nasty tempers. They'd get into fights with her all the time, wondering why she had to be so different, she got into fights with them all the time, wondering why the hell they should care, it was a big mess.

Ignoring the pleas of the other honey badgers, she left for a nearby human village in order to meet with them, see how they'd treat her. The reception was... Not what she expected. A lot of words were said in very unkind ways, some people screamed, a guy tried to shoot the little honey badger, she bit his leg down to the bone, it was a whole ordeal. Humans were afraid of a badger that walked and talked like them, so it was a bizarre situation. Animal control tried to bag and tag her, but the little honey badger took the gun from the guy she had bitten and threatened them. Animal control decided that badgers with guns was above their paygrade and promptly got the eff out of dodge.

For the next several months the little badger decided that hunting small mammals and insects was for chumps and suckers, so she'd get what she needed for the humans that lived nearby, humans that scorned her without getting to know her. It was hilarious how much they yelled and ran around when she went waving that gun around! So stories spread of the badger bandit, some believing it to be a joke but others knowing the stories to be too real. Eventually a traveling circus made it to the island as part of their seafaring show tour. Seeing this as the opportunity for her best score, the little badger snuck in to steal as much food and supplies as she possibly could, but had been caught in the process by the ringleader. The ringleader did not react in the same way that the little badger had been accustomed to. Instead of fear, he was friendly. Instead of screaming, he spoke softly. Even when she pointed her gun at his face he replied not with an equal sense of violence, but a chuckle and an offer. He said that he'd never seen anything else like her in all the seas his circus had traveled and that she could join. She'd get all the food she'd ever need, and in return he could teach her how to hone her skill with the gun, how to put on a show that will make the people cheer out of entertainment, not yell out of fear and bewilderment.

With a little contemplation, the little badger agreed. The ringleader gave her the name Joanne Schrodinger that day, to signify her paradoxical nature. A badger, yet not a badger. For years she trained in her art, along with the trapeze, the cannons, and all the basics of the circus. The animal tamer resented her for acting so autonomously, and everyone questioned how this honey badger could walk and talk like a human. Her only response was a shrug and a, "I don' care, mind your own damn business." Eventually her act was the biggest draw of the circus, and she was living a life worth living just like the ringleader promised. Unbeknownst to Joanne though, things began to boil beneath the surface, close to coming to a rise.

The night that would change Joanne's life forever came about 5 months ago. The crew of pirate captain Bartholomew K. Runch shared an audience with a marine commodore while Joanne gave her biggest show yet: being fired from cannon to cannon and having to shoot moving targets while flying in midair, without a net. On the final cannon shot something went wrong. There wasn't enough powder to propel her all the way back to the main stage, and so Joanne Schrodinger began to plummet. Just as she thought her life had come to an end, she was caught by the Cereal Killer, Cap'n K. Runch, whose interference revealed his presence to the marines. Before a fight broke out, the ringleader convinced the marines to let he and his circus take care of the pirates, citing that it was their own honored that had been bismirched. As Runch and crew began to flee, Joanne in tow (believed to be a hostage) the commodore agreed and thought it would be an interesting new show.

For the rest of the night the Krunch Pirates fought against the circus masters while Joanne investigated the accident that had almost killed her, only to find that it was no accident. The circus beast tamer's resentment had grown beyond his control, leading to his sabotage of the final cannon. The ringleader himself found out, but instead of putting the man in his place, the ringleader merely berated him for nearly killing their biggest money maker. Joanne, hearing this from the shadows, became enraged. She was just a meal ticket? He never actually cared for her well being? He left before her righteous fury was put into action, but the beastmaster did not escape her justice. After a hard fought battle, she had him at her mercy. Instead of putting a bullet between his eyes, she opted to pistol whip him and leave his ass behind to suffer the embarrassment.

Feeling she had no place left to go, Joanne boarded K. Runch's ship as he pulled out of harbor. The rest of the crew were surprised to see the circus performer suddenly aboard their vessel and when questioned on why she was there, she had this to say. "I go where I want, you don't own me!" Ever since Joanne Schrodinger has been the sharpshooter of Runch's crew and (begrudgingly) grown closer to everyone.

Wish: Joanne has entered to give her cap'n two bites at the apple, so to speak. She has already found her wish living with a crew of people who accept her for who and what she is (even if she has to pistol-whup their asses into shape here and there), so her plans upon winning would be to grant Runch's desires.

Echo: A circus big top built upon spires of rocks jutting up from the sea, cannons, trapeze, and other obstacles spread around wooden platforms and the air.

Appearance:

Hider

Joanne is, well, a honey badger. A honey badger that normally walks on two legs, wears a cowboy hat, and has a bandoleer of ammunition for her guns. It's a pretty jarring and bizarre sight for most people.

Frenzy: When Joanne frenzies under the influence of the phylactery, she drops her guns, sheds her clothing, and fully embraces her animal nature in a beastial, rabid physical assault. In this state her physical abilities are not enhanced in any way and she loses all higher reasoning, including her precious speech, making her frenzy something to avoid at all costs as it will result in almost certain defeat.

Inventory: Phylactery

@ProPro

A fun NPC, but as interesting as your take on this sort of Frenzy would be, what you have isn't what Frenzy is for. The idea of Frenzy is that in response to mental trauma the phylactery directly attacks the soul, causing a transformation and power surge to boost its chances of retaining the soul. It's external and forced, so having a Frenzy that actually makes the character weaker (and doesn't change anything except the mind) would be counterproductive to its purpose.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

should i make an NPC too or

@obliviousRoadie

If you like.

Have another fox lady for an NPC.

The Itinerant Exorcist

Name: Erina
Alias: The Itinerant Exorcist
Race: Kitsune
Sex: Female
Class: Spiritualist
Equipment: Most of Erina’s more practical items are strapped to the belt at her waist.

The most obvious item she carries is a sheathed katana tied at her left hip. Upon unsheathing it, however, the metal is chipped and reddened, consumed by rust. Once this was a beautiful, razor sharp blade, but as it is, its days as a proper weapon are clearly long over. But perhaps like the spirit that lives within the blade, it may have a chance to shine again.

At the other side is an unassuming satchel holding a dozen small knives meant for throwing. She can’t use them by herself, but got them at another’s behest.

A second satchel at her back holds a good number of talismans, long slips of paper with traditional writings on them. Their purpose is to ward off ill-omens and evil spirits. While they won’t do much to protect her from more mundane threats, spirits, undead and certain kinds of demons would be severely weakened if touched by them. They can also be placed in dwellings or shelters to sanctify them, only allowing the aforementioned supernatural beings within if they leave behind a portion of their strength behind.

Last among her belongings is a small knapsack with her money and writing instruments such as ink, chalk and charcoal wrapped up snugly inside.

Abilities:

-Discerning Eye: For the supernatural. Erina has always been able to see ghosts and spiritual entities that others cannot (likely because, in a manner of speaking, she is one herself). This doesn’t limit itself to ghosts, however. Illusions brought about by magic acquire a certain transparency in her eyes, making the falsehoods obvious, and she can tell at a glance whether an object has been cursed, enchanted, or is mundane.

-Will-o-Wisp: She can summon several small wisps of purple fire at a given time, controlling their movement with only a little effort. However, these wisps simply dissolve on contact with hard surfaces, barely letting out any heat in most circumstances. Normally, this is no more than a party trick. At worst, they could start a fire or damage clothes if she’s not careful with them.

However, when they touch ghosts, undead, or certain kinds of demons, the wisps combust beautifully, catching on their flesh (or what they might call flesh) in painful bursts of fire.

-Calling: Most ghosts instinctually seek those who can see them, and for better or worse, few would refuse a summons by one with Erina’s gift. In some places, particularly where atrocities have taken place and many have died, ghosts may gather around her the moment she sets foot in their haunt. More often, however, a small ritual is required wherein Erina finds a quiet place to meditate and call for those left behind. If available, this ritual may be performed using the belongings of the deceased to call them out specifically.

These ghosts are not bound to her will, and even if they were they have no way to affect the world around them (those who can are typically violently insane and are best disposed of immediately). However, those that retain enough reason to speak are often more than willing to share information with one who is alive.

-Channeling: This may be seen as a kind of willful possession where Erina allows a spirit to enter her body to use their skills. This is not true possession, as rather than being in control of the body, the ghost’s mind melds with that of the host, imparting them memories and knowledge. While the will directing the body when channeling is most definitely the host’s, certain aspects of their demeanor and personality may be colored by the experiences of the donor. Most outside memories glimpsed by either the host or the donor while performing this technique tend to disappear quite quickly once separate, and complex skills performed while channeling such as speaking other languages or combat expertise are not retained by the host. While convenient, it is no substitute for learning.

There is one particular spirit Erina often relies on for Channeling, a ghost by the name of Bend (attempts to pry his actual name from him have all failed). He appears to her in the appearance of a balding man in his sixties dressed in grey flowing robes. He is host to a grave demeanor, speaking curtly and matter-of-factly. The man claims to have been the head of a clan of assassins in the service of an old feudal lord, and that both he and his master fell to betrayal from a trusted friend. Bend has taken residence in the old rusted blade that once belonged to him, and has chosen to serve Erina with the wish to safeguard his new master to the bitter end.

A man of keen eyes and keener instincts rumored to have an iron body and the ability to deflect blades with his bare hands, Bend was a master killer. Now the latter two are exaggerations, but she can attest for the assassin’s skills first hand. Bringing the spirit within her gives her access to the man’s training, lending her the knowledge needed to move silently and unseen and to fight with fists, swords and knives with frightening proficiency.

Moreover, channeling Bend somehow restores her blade to its former glory for the duration of their connection. When asked about this the first time it occurred, the spirit shrugged, as though it was a matter of course, and replied that the blade would never break as long as he had a master to serve, and never dull as long as he willed it sharp.

Outside of Channeling, Bend can aid Erina by advising her in dangerous situations, peering through walls, and scouting ahead, though he cannot move beyond two hundred meters from his sword. He is also very knowledgeable on matters relating to the manufacturing and administering of poisons, but this is one kind of expertise Erina can do without.

-Illusion: A kind of magic which came to her instinctually, much like her wisps. However, her brand of illusions does not tend to be horribly complicated. They are largely visual, for one. As an example, this magic allows her to hide her tail and ears if she needs to, along with things she might be carrying in her hands or strapped to her belt. These illusions tend to break down when touched unexpectedly or when she is startled.

She can also create images of objects such as handkerchiefs, rabbits or flocks of doves popping out of hats and, when in a pinch, duplicates of herself. However, she can typically only hold together one duplicate at a time, it must be at least twenty meters from her, and, as before, these images all dissolve when suddenly touched by a solid object.

Fighting Style: Should she not be channeling Bend, Erina cannot be truly described as a combatant. She is fit and slippery, and has enough of a sense of danger to know when she is in trouble, but can do little against most threats beyond running away and attempting to lose her pursuers with the occasional duplicate splitting off from her.

The only enemy she may truly be able to combat on her own merits (and may indeed see as her duty to do so) are ghosts, the undead, and certain kinds of demons. That said, her ‘fighting style’ does not change much. She still attempts to keep her distance at all costs, except that now she can also bombard the enemy with fireballs and attempt to trick them into touching her talismans all while whooping and hollering with the rush of adrenaline and vindication. It’s not often she can boast of being able to pull her weight in a proper fight.

When dealing with any other kind of threat, particularly in kill or be killed situations, she will defer to Bend and allow him to possess her. The change is typically immediate. Movement that was once energetic and wasteful becomes silent and fluid, not quicker so much as streamlined, and her nerves are stilled by the killer’s cold contemplation.

If the battle can be won without the target can so much as see her, the chance should be taken. If the target forces combat, she must not tire her sword arm with feints. Every blow must be a killing blow. If the target attempts to put distance between them, throwing knives can apply pressure while she approaches. Diversions should come from illusions, no other use for those doppelgangers. A fair tool, though, one she did not have in life. If victory is out of reach, she must not hesitate to flee and regroup. The enemy’s guard must lower eventually.

Personality: Erina is, at her core, a genial and warm person. She is quick to warm up to new people, quick to form attachments and loves being depended on by others. However, her energy can occasionally daunt and irritate others, and piled with the fact that she sometimes looks at or speaks with invisible entities heedless of those around her gives rise to certain ideas.

She purports to be knowledgeable about all that lies beneath the sun, her worldly knowledge second to none, but when posed questions, her answers tend to be both immediate and wildly off-base. Ironically, the only questions she will regularly answer correctly are those with explanations deviating far from common sense. It is not clear whether she truly believes the answers she gives or if she is simply playing a joke on the listener. She certainly has a slight, almost compulsive tendency to lie in her day to day speech with little consistency and for seemingly no reason, leaving those wise to her ways to watch out for these occasional pitfalls. These lies become alarmingly commonplace when she speaks about her past, to the point where the only consistent thing she might say in a conversation regarding herself may be the reasons for her travels, that is, “To deliver a letter to my lost teacher.”

In a way, Bend has grown to become her confidant, the only person to whom she will speak to with complete honesty.

Erina does not like conflict. She is aware that she makes for a poor fighter, and does not like to rely on Bend’s expertise unless her life is in danger or she has been led to a situation where she needs to kill. If she catches wind of dangerous but mundane business afoot, she is more likely to warn other parties, such as guards or the like, and steer clear of trouble if she can.

She is most at her element performing exorcisms, leading those willing to rest, and disposing of the dangerous ones in flames if needed. It is the one thing she considers to be her duty.

When channeling Bend, she loses much of her joviality, becoming more serious and calculating. Calm, too, and she voices no displeasure at the prospect of killing. It’s only natural. She has already resolved to kill if she has let the killer in. Her manner of speaking becomes more straightforward as well, but the occasional blatant falsehood still slips out, hinting that it is still the very same person speaking.

Bio: Erina was found by the head monk of a shrine-temple along a mountain pass when she was but a toddler. Astonished by the sight of the ears and tail growing from her, the priest hesitated to approach. He was fearful that it might be a trap laid by a malignant spirit, but when Erina let out a pitiful cry, the man was moved to action, aware that if she was truly but a babe she would starve to death in that mountain path. That day, she found a home.

At first, Erina was taken care of by the old monk in secret, with the help of those monks he trusted most closely, but it is not a simple thing to attend to the needs of both a temple and a crying baby. Soon enough Erina’s presence had to be disclosed to the rest of the monks dwelling in the temple. The head monk explained how he found her, but omitted Erina’s animal features from the story. When showing them the child, he concealed her ears and tail with a cloth headpiece and blankets. He told them that he had kept the secret to avoid disturbing their daily rituals until he came to a decision about what to do with the babe. The decision he had come to was that Erina must have been an omen, and it would be best to rear her in that very temple.

After that, the head monk and a few others continued to take care of her, keeping her ears and tail a secret. She later heard from her teacher that it must have been divine providence that the ruse was never seen through until she was old enough to hide them herself.

When she asked him why it was necessary to hide that part of herself, the monk explained that humans fear what they do not understand, that fear isolated, and that in isolation the heart rusted.

In return, she asked if he had feared her when he first saw her ears and tail. The monk answered seriously that yes, he had been afraid. Quick for her age, Erina asked him why he had brought her with her, if he had been afraid.

The monk smiled and answered that that when one is concerned with fear, only the natural and the bad could occur because of it. As for the good, that could only come about in spite of fear. This was the first time she began to think of the old monk as her teacher, and this was only the first of many lessons he would impart.

The monk first became aware of Erina’s other peculiarities at an early age. The girl would look into space as though following something only her eyes could see, and occasionally she caught her holding conversations with herself. At first, he did not feel like it was particularly strange behavior for a child, but as she grew and this quirk continued, he began to fear for her. When he resolved to ask her about this, the girl seemed puzzled. At the time she still could not comprehend the difference between the spirits of the departed and the living, and it never occurred to her that she could see things others could not. The monk himself was skeptical about these people Erina saw, but was quickly understood the girl’s gift when Erina gave her an exact description of the previous head of the temple, and related to him a story of his own childhood no one else could have known of. From then on, her teacher also attempted to help her develop this strange talent, at least by helping her distinguish between ghosts and people by pointing out those he saw. He also advised her to ignore the spirits when around the other monks.

So the years passed. Soon Erina had matured, able to participate in the daily prayers and rituals at the temple, and occasionally visiting the small village at the foot of the mountain to offer blessings and take donations with some of the other monks. She loved the rituals that involved dances or theatrics, though the monks privy to her secret were desperate to keep her out of them for fear that her true nature might be revealed by a sudden jerk or an unfortunate sway of her dress. The world was small and warm, and time went by slowly, serenely.

One day, her teacher fell ill and passed away. He had not been the first. Other old monks in the temple had moved on in the past few years. Others that shared her age had begun to show small wrinkles around the eyes and smatterings of grey hair. She, however, remained like a faithful portrait, unchanged since the nineteenth year after she was found.

Suddenly she knew in her heart of hearts that she would not age beyond that point.

The monk had arranged for her to succeed him as the temple’s caretaker, but an idea that would have once brought her joy now filled her with dread. She could almost see in her mind’s eye as time unwound around her. The rest of the monks would one day follow her teacher’s footsteps. Their children would take their place, and other monks may come from beyond this temple to take the place of the rest, and then those too would one day move one. And what of her? The one that stood still in that river? What would they think of her? Isolation rusted the heart.

In the following days, her teacher had his last rites performed. The day after they were completed, Erina was nowhere to be seen.

She had stolen away in the dead night with a cloak and some food and arrived at the village at the foot of the mountain just as the sun began to rise. This is where her travels began. Clumsily, at first, for she had spent all her years within the small world of her temple home, and the world outside was vast indeed, its people varied and its ways mysterious. Many times she relied on charity to survive, and when she was lucky she found superstitious travelers and traders that would pay for a priestess to accompany them and ward off ill-omens. She had already began to obfuscate the nature of her past at this point, but the mannerisms and teachings of a shrine maiden were unmistakable.

One of these travelers once gave her a letter of introduction to a business partner that was seeking help from experts in the spiritual, and knowing no one else in the city, she resolved to visit this man. By then, she could readily distinguish between spirits and humans, and had allowed more than a few to move on in her travels, so when the man reticently spoke of his problem with her, she quickly realized what it would require of her. The trader had goods he needed to move stored in a certain warehouse, but the workhands all refused to enter the building. A strange chain of accidents had occurred within, and the warehouse was now seen as cursed. She was offered remuneration if she could convince the workers that the building was safe.

She did as bid, and practiced her craft within the warehouse. The actual exorcising took but a few minutes inside the building (a mad ghost had made it its haunt and had somehow become strong enough to insinuate itself into people’s thoughts), but the workers refused to return until she had spent two days offering prayers and sticking paper charms to the building’s walls. It was not all that surprising to her. She had already learned that most people would not believe that which they could not see, and so she put on required show. Truthfully, most of that time was spent dozing off inside the shelter provided by the warehouse. Once word got to her employer that the workers were going back into the warehouse, she received her payment (less than the agreed upon amount, but bartering was not a strong suit of hers back then) and a word of thanks. Sensing an opportunity, Erina told the man that if he knew of anyone who could use her talents, to not hesitate to send them her way.
In that city far from home, the maddening pace of her journey began to slow. She stayed for almost a year, making coin through charity, by selling off paper talismans as wards and good-luck charms and occasionally taking contracts to deal with haunts or perform séances. Eventually, however, she left for another town in her pilgrimage, an introductory letter once again in her pocket.

This cycle was carried out several times. She reached a new town or city, plied her trade, if it could even be called a trade, and looked for contacts. She would stay for anything between a handful of months to a handful of years depending on the work available, and eventually move on. It was in one of these exorcist odd jobs that she came across the rusty blade Bend uses as a vessel. It had been hidden under a house’s floorboards, and the assassin’s own stormy thoughts had brought a dark aura to the home, bringing nightmares to the owners. Bend was unwilling to move on, unyielding in his desire to properly serve a master again, and Erina could not bring herself to forcibly exorcise him while he had his wits about him, so she simply took the sword with her.

One day she reached a seaport town, and came to watch a circus troupe perform at the docks. She was instantly taken with the magician's’ tricks, and watched the spectacle with a childish glee.

When the show was done and the troupe was packing up, she homed in on the magicians to ask them about their magic, how they casted the sorceries that let dazzle their audience so. She had hope in her heart that she might find one of her kind in their numbers. At first the artist laughed her off with the tired line of ‘a true magician never reveals their secrets,’ but when Erina continued to insist and the man realized she truly believed they were sorcerers, he brought her close and whispered to her. That the magic was called sleight of hand. That the spell was misdirection and the magic was in the mind that chose to believe. ‘Magic that simply is does not exist anymore,’ he told her, unaware of the irony.

The following day, she purchased a different set of traveling clothes and set out on her trip once more. Up until then, she had always worn clothes reminiscent to the ones she had left the shrine with. It didn’t occur to her until later that after hearing the magician’s confession the teachings of her faith had lost some their sway over the way she thought.

The cycle picked up again and continued as it has before, though occasionally it was interrupted when the local priesthoods condemned her practices and ran her out of town. Regardless, she always stayed long enough to forge friendships, stayed long enough to make the parting hurt, but always left in the end nonetheless. Most of all, she never once visited the same town twice. This way she maintained an illusion of immutability. The feeling of being outside of time was not as overpowering when she continually saw new things, continually met new people, and left long before those sights could age and move on without her.

Wish: To find her lost teacher! Good food! World peace! Riches beyond measure!

Her answer changes every time she is asked, but her true wish is a simple one. Erina has lived for long enough to grow lonely. Beings as long lived as her are few and far in-between in her world, and most who still exist have withdrawn from the world. What she wishes for is someone to share her life with. It does not matter if it is as friends or lovers or bitter rivals as long as she can feel their warmth without the fear of them wasting away with time.

Ironically, this tournament might very well pit her against candidates for such a position. Everyone came to this place willing to put their life on the line, even her. Still, she needn’t kill them. Hopefully they would not make her kill them.

Echo: The docks of a large city, the smell of salt and seafood all but saturating the air. Wooden vessels large and small dot the waterline, and the buildings nearby are largely warehouses and trading company buildings.

This is where she first saw the ocean. More importantly, here she was dazzled by a magic trick.

Appearance: 5’4” and with a svelte frame, from a distance Erina may be confused for a young man, particularly while wearing a hood. On closer inspection, however, the mounds on her chest are unassuming but undeniably present under her clothing. Travel has made her body lean, building some muscle on her arms and legs, but her pale features retain a kind of softness enhanced by her optimistic smile and the intelligent gleam of her green eyes. Belying her youthful appearance, her hair is a grayish white, kept to shoulder length to avoid the aforementioned misunderstandings.

The pair of white ears sitting atop head and the furry tail sprouting from her rear betray Erina’s inhuman nature. She often wears a brown cloak in order to hide those features as constantly maintaining illusions is terribly inconvenient, but the back of the cloak may rustle from time to time, particularly when she’s excited. Her preferred set of clothing consists of sturdy, brown traveling boots, tan cloth pants with a hole at the back held up by a belt, and a bluish shirt.

Frenzy: On some occasions, her tail might split off a black double. When this occurs, several other changes come upon Erina. Her pupils turn to slits, her fingers elongate, nails growing sharp like claws and her features grow pointed and angular, lips stretching and mouth jutting forward slightly in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a muzzle.

While in this state she is much stronger and faster than normal, her mind is lost, leaving her to strike out at anything and everything that moves with an angry snarl displaying filed teeth and little instinct for self-preservation. Indeed, were this all, one might make the case that Erina is deadlier when allowing Bend to possess her. While she can’t seem to commune with spirits or use illusions while in this form, her natural fire magic is greatly amplified. She will use this instinctively, throwing out streams of fire at anything on sight and sending swaths of purple flame flying with every swing of her arms. Should she turn into this beast, a firestorm is soon to follow.

Inventory:
-Phylactery

I'm in this weird place where I want to play both characters, but only one can get the chance to shine.

@Lazo

This character is suitable, and can be added to the tab as an NPC.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Brucie

Name: Brucie

Alias: Brucie

Race: Hammerhead Shark (genetically modified)

Sex: Male

Class: Bombardier

Equipment: Brucie's chief claim to fame is his set of mechanical limbs. They are tough, sleek, highly functional pieces of tech. The teal and dark blue sections are hard, usually overlaying rubber 'muscle' that itself conceals the moving parts. The rubber itself is very dense, prone to catching blades and bullets that try to pierce it. Both the arms and legs can strike with a lot of power, but not very quickly. The hooklike talons on the arms can also rip flesh from bone if allowed to get a grip

Implanted into Brucie's lower jaw are biotic plugs that enable him to survive on land. They also link directly to his circulatory and immune systems, able to inject adrenaline, morphine, or antibiotics and filter out toxins. This is also where his voicebox is

Brucie's mechanical limbs come equipped with two weapons. The first, attached to his right arm, is a hose that can expel torrents of water at very high pressure, capable of both damaging and pushing back whatever gets caught. By altering the firing mode manually, Brucie can also use it to launch bouncy, explosive bubbles of water that explode with concussive force if burst. His secondary weapon is a missile launcher on his shoulder, which can lock on to enemies to fire up to six rockets. Thanks to a built-in portal system Brucie's weapons will not run out of water, but he would need to stock up on rockets

Brucie's trump card is a device known as the Shark Tank. Once removed from the inside of his left leg and activated by slamming the halves together, it creates a huge, thin bubble shield before opening an internal portal to the sea, rapidly filling the 50-meter radius area with water. In the water, enemies typically suffer equipment malfunctions and have trouble moving, and they can drown, but Brucie is able to move freely and attack with renewed vigor

Abilities: Being a genetically modified shark, Brucie can bite with nothing short of killer ferocity, able to maul even moderately protected targets and make a solid attempt at ripping up whatever metal he can get his teeth around. He has naturally high stamina and can seemingly flat-out ignore pain, though he still sustains damage dealt to his body.

His cybernetic enhancements, including the limbs and their weapons, afford him a decent amount of firepower in certain situations, but he's typically not effective beyond mid to close range. He can regenerate pretty quickly, though it is by no means a super healing factor

Fighting Style: Brucie typically starts out fights using his equipment, battering enemies down with cannons and blasts of water as well as missiles. If engaged at close range, or if he runs out of missiles, he transitions to a sort of berserker attack mode, just as liable to pounce on and start mauling a foe as try to break them with brutal swings from his mechanical limbs. He will use his trump card liberally when things aren't going his way. His habit of flooding an entire battlefield with water can pose extreme threat to certain people but possibly even help others, all depending on his opponent. However, despite his brute force and useful tech, he is a somewhat vulnerable berserker. His body, while regenerative, has no shielding, and his chances of victory plummet if his durable limbs somehow get taken out. Of course, he does have one weakness in particular: the plugs in his jaw which, if disabled, will cause him to suffocate

Personality: 'Bombastic' is a perfect word to describe Brucie. His uniquely boisterous and inconsistent demeanor comes across in practically all he does. His shark instincts remain at the forefront of his consciousness, giving him the capacity for great savagery and cruelty. Brucie loves to fight, and often feels as though he should, but most of the time chooses to act normally instead, though his normal is still kooky compare to most. Rather than some kind of rage that needs to be constantly kept in check, his instincts come to him merely as satisfying suggestions. Instead of ripping and tearing all the time, Brucie behaves with a genial liveliness and earnest sense of humor that make him into more of an energetic, goonish jokester than anything else, albeit one with a killer streak. He's an animal that lives with no regrets, and indulges in thrill-seeking and general tomfoolery whenever he can. He speaks like a classic hooligan

Bio: In the modern age, humans often look back to animals as inspiration or subjects for study, seeking to understand and emulate their gifts, but only an intrepid few seek to bring beasts to the level of men.

While Winston was growing up on Horizon Lunar Colony, the program of which he and his kind were art spawned a variety of echoes back on earth. Some were professionally executed and formally funded; others proved ill-conceived and doomed to failure. The terrorist organization known as Talon hatched its own scheme to harnass the earth's deadliest creatures to use as shock troops, and from their endeavors, Brucie came to be. Originally an ordinary hammerhead shark captured in the Adriatic Sea off the coast of Italy, he underwent massive chemical and technological augmentation and almost died. In the end, the experiment's director, an ambitious technophile named Francesca Marini, sold all she owned to see the years-long operation through. Brucie awoke, possessing a near-human mind, robotic limbs, and the ability to speak through a special impulse translator, to see the grin of a woman who'd achieved her vision quest.

Talon wasted no time putting Brucie to work. At his superiors' behest, Brucie turned his formidable water-based technology and homing missiles on Watchpoint: Gibraltar and other ex-Overwatch installations, his mission to wipe them from the face of the earth. As fun as it was, it did not leave the shark truly satisfied. Fighting was all he knew; he could not go among humans to observe and interact with them, for he was a freak. His lack of interest in Talon's ultimate goals became apparent to its leaders before too long, and they toyed with the idea of 'cutting him loose'. Ultimately, however, they decided that the chance of Marini's creation surviving and going on a roaring rampage of revenge was too high. Instead, they let him go, and he made a half-sunken ship in the Adriatic Sea his home under Talon's discreet, watchful eye. There he lived with Francesca and her young niece, who used the ship's renovated cabins and laboratory to continue working for Talon and other such entities, unbeknownst to Brucie.

Since Overwatch's recall, Brucie has been cultivating acquaintances with its members to make amends for his naive warpath in the past—with Talon in the know all the while.

Wish: To become human

Echo: The half-sunken ship, which is mostly derelict except for a functioning laboratory and pretty nice cabins. Brucie's own quarters, which was the cargo hold when the ship was still afloat, is completely submerged. This place serves as his home and base of operations, and now it has appeared off the shore of the City of Echoes

Appearance:

Large and in charge

Frenzy: Contorted by pain, Brucie undergoes rapid mutation. His flesh surges outward and overgrows his mechanical limbs, using them as a carbon-fiber skeleton for the organism that is to come. The end result is a wretched, swollen humanoid shark, rippling with muscle and hideous in its deformity, but possessed of an immense regenerative factor and surprising speed to accompany overwhelming physical strength. Disturbingly, he will continue to talk as he fights in this form, but his speech openly suggests a complete loss of sanity

Inventory: Phylactery

Pokemon: New World

@Lugubrious Thanks. What's going to happen with future missions for Stillwater? Are you ok with Dusksong approving them?

@Zarkun I'd been waiting for this moment with Cici and Forte for so long :D

@LuckyBlackCat

Anyone who wants to can do stuff with Stillwater. Since I am no longer a part of the RP, I forfeit everything I once controlled, right? That's only fair.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Donezo. Despite the chain of attempted techniques used in my post, I left it up to GM discretion if it all worked or not -though I certainly hope it would, since Slayer's only dealing with a couple of small fry at the moment and has +5 strength thanks to his recent level up- and I can modify the post to change things around if something important like the grab turns out to have failed.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Slayer
Level 2
Day 1
Location: Outside the Abandoned Castle
@Hylozoist @Holy Soldier @Gentlemanvaultboy @Lmpkio @Zarkun @ToadRopes @Bright_Ops
Word Count: 1015
Experience: ||||||||||||||||||||

Just as Slayer began to enjoy the twilit scenery, a shape appeared in the sky that caught his attention. Before he could make out its exact contour and character, a despairing shout bombarded him, and like a cockroach in a spotlight the vampire's improved mood skittered away. No matter how many world-threatening monstrosities he'd seen or heard of, to treat the onset of a new one with anything less than grave seriousness would be beyond foolhardy. Now, according to this winged messenger, the very demon lord poised to annihilate this place would be arriving in only moments. Slayer did not need to make any internal calculations to figure out that his allies lacked the firepower necessary to take Brigan down, let alone Odin, and he doubted that the barbaric brute would be so courteous as to stand by while they tried their luck with the bigger bad. Even as the other heroes streamed from the crumbling castle, all alive and intact, he felt as though he'd been flung out of the frying pan and into hell itself.

From the direction of the approaching messenger a furry blur shot toward the group. Slayer did not immediately recall Fox as an ally, but he figured as much, and so merely stepped to the side to ensure that the vulpid had enough space to execute his impressive landing. Fox's confirmation served to bring a sigh to the gentleman's lips, and in anticipation of the coming strife he plucked a brand-new pipe from a side pocket. He snapped his fingers with undue force, the friction creating a purple spark, and with it he lit the pipe before taking a puff. ”Well then. Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose.”

He cut a determined look, but the shaking ground and resounding crash that heralded Brigan's arrival robbed him of his focus. Only after sending a no-nonsense glare the lout's way did he turn his attention back to the sky and find, to his mild dismay, a great dark shape incoming. Fox opened fire, but his barrage seemed to have no effect but to suddenly cause the ominous figure to zoom forward, headed straight for the group fast as a freight train and with far more force. The heroes around Slayer scattered to avoid the impact, but he stood still, counting in his head. At the last moment, he executed a Dandy Step, and the momentary lapse of presence characteristic to the move allowed him to completely avoid the initial shockwave of the predictable strike. Even still, the aftershock jarred his bones, and he knew that if he had been the dive punch's primary target, he would not have gotten off so easily.

Before Odin even rose back to his full height, his entourage began its assault. For a split second Slayer was shocked by the sheer, feral tenacity of the valkyries' shrieks, but his heart hardened when two of the twelve veered toward him. ”Is that all? How rude. One does not play billiards with a matchstick!” As they approached, he sucked in a deep breath from his pipe, then exhaled the smoke in a blast at his feet. It splashed upon impact, becoming a thick cloud, and into it the valkuries dove with spears extended. As one, they thrust their spears at the dark, dapper shape in the cloud's center, only for the vampire to disappear before their eyes. The next instant, he dashed in from below, ramming a pile bunker into the foremost valkyrie's exposed belly. He felt it connect, though with the haze he couldn't quite tell exactly what he hit However, he could be sure that the power of the blow carried him forward just enough to be almost behind the second valkyrie, and with the unflappable momentum of a veteran boxer he turned on the dime to deliver a crushing backhand to the back of the little monster's neck. Given he resurgence of strength, he felt certain that it would be an instant kill, but he didn't stop there. With his other hand, he reached out to try to grab and yank down the valkyrie he'd Pile Bunkered, his goal to slam her against the ground and stun her. As the cloud cleared, he attempted to place his heel upon her cheek to pin her beneath his weight. ”Though I do generally find this act unbecoming in public, I feel as though some of your blood would fully restore my health. Hold still, young miss, and I assure you it will be -almost- painless.” He flexed his fingers as he smiled, his fangs ever so slightly bared.

The loss of the haze, however, allowed him to witness that same winged messenger from before headed his way, a pack of valkyries on her tail. It was Naija, who he had been unable to recognize thanks to a striking alteration in her body. As she passed, the fishwoman tossed him a fruit, telling him it would help his wounds. With an indifferent shrug, Slayer took a bite, and unsurprisingly the fruit healed him just as Naija implied. ”Fancy that,” he murmured, taking a look around. He felt as though in the heat of the moment he'd missed something important. After a second he spotted it: Oswald and Brigan, as well as a valkurie who looked different from the others, standing side by side against the Demon Lord. Without skipping a beat, Slayer was able to intuit from their positioning and body language more or less what had happened. ”Desperate times make for odd bedfellows, I expect. Or am I mixing my metaphors?” He asked the harpy who he expected to be beneath his foot, still squirming feebly. ”Oh! My apologies,” the vampire fretted, as though surprised. He removed his foot and attempted to reach down to pick the creature up. ”It would appear that I do not require your blood anymore. Allow me to let you go.”

A second later, the wailing valkyrie, her wings torn out of their sockets, would hurtle as a living projectile toward the trio in pursuit of Naija if Slayer's attack succeeded.

Pokemon: New World

@Lugubrious Ok. So I take it Ella and Leisy should claim the TP before heading back to Feyhollow.

@LuckyBlackCat

Yep, all yours.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I want to introduce a pair of semi-important reoccurring characters for Ferrin's backstory reasons. At least one will have a Semblance of his own, and Hunter training.

Do I need submit a secondary character sheet for them?

@Crimson Raven

No, not necessarily.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious
Do we get to pick our own opponent-npc, or is that decided by God (read: Lug)

@kapuchu

The players do not get to pick.

Pokemon: New World

@Lugubrious Good luck with new RP. Just so we know, what's going on with the Bad Dreams mission?

@LuckyBlackCat

It's finished, essentially beaten.