Luminous Beings

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

The Template

THE TEMPLATE (or dossier or whatever)

Here is the Template you will fill out for your character. This one's pretty straightforward, ya know? Remember, even though this is a stat-based RP, it's still literate. Please give lots of details.

DOSSIER
NAME: (Your character's name.)
AGE: (While your character can be any age, Belroth does not employ child soldiers, so over 18 is necessary. Furthermore, if you're going to be in the field, you should probably be in the 25-40 range, as it’s unlikely anyone younger than that has the experience to merit being a Dreadnaught. You're probably not going to sell me on your 90 year old infantryman, either, but older characters, can still be valuable assets back at HQ)
SEX: (M/F. Belroth is an equal opportunity employer, provided you get the job done.)
NICKNAME: (Nicknames. If your character is a pilot/undercover operative/anything that would designate a callsign or codename, list that here too.)
DESCRIPTION: (Height, weight, hair color, eye color, how do they walk, how do they talk, where'd they get them scars, so on and so forth. Every aspect of them that can be physically observed should be here. Okay not really but flesh this out. Remember, this needs to reflect your stats. Don't tell me your morbidly obese 50 year old has a Constitution of 8. Also, please, please, please don't make everyone in this RP pretty. Let's not do that. If you're in the field, you're probably roughed up and scarred a bit. Not to say there can't be attractive characters, but the Dreadnaughts aren't in the modelling business. )
PERSONALITY (This is the only thing I value in women, the OP said untruthfully. Now, delve into their morals, values, code of honor, motives, etc, here. Do they have PTSD? How do they cope? Why are they with the Dreadnaughts? Etc.)
ATTIRE (If they're in the field, describe what their BDU looks like. Again, if you're not familiar with military stuff, that's totally okay-I don't expect anyone here to be 100% realistic with the little details. The Dreadnaughts have no required uniform for battle, but their helmets all have the Dreadnaught insignia and their BDUs all have a Dreadnaughts patch. Feel free to ask for help.)
WEAPON OF CHOICE (What is your character's preferred weapon(s)? If your character is not in the field, what would they use if they HAD to fight?)
MUGGING (Some shady lookin' fella with a switchblade jumps your character in an alley and politely asks for your wallet. How does your character respond?)
BIOGRAPHY (I hate, hate, hate bios. So, if you want to skimp a little here, or just hit the high points, that's cool with me. Your character, however, should have some level of expertise in whatever field they're working in for the Dreadnaughts, whether that's IT experience, working as a doctor or pilot, etc.)
TALENTS (What are your character's talents? These aren't necessarily correlated with their skills: maybe it's something like playing piano, or being able to balance a chair on their chin. This is important, as the Dreadnaughts' Annual Talent Show will be a serious plot point later.)
ROLE: (What Role does your character serve in the Dreadnaughts? Are they a combat medic? A pilot? An engineer? Maybe even a janitor back at the base? Remember, you do not necessarily have to be a combat role if you don't want to. We're going to need a well-rounded, multifaceted group to handle a lot of threats. If everyone is a sniper or everyone's an explosives expert, we're going to be screwed. Some of my favorite characters from previous incarnations of this were the more out-of-the-box roles: we had the Dreadnaughts psychiatrist, who specialized in deep cover operations and sweet-talking his way past the enemy, for instance. Some friendly recommendations for roles we may need fulfilled: Pilot, Medic, Sniper (two, actually: one sniper and one spotter, who will switch off roles) Infantrymen (and the lovely subcategories of Infantrymen: Explosives Specialists, Designated Marksmen, etc) Intelligence/Advisers, Counter-Insurgency Specialists, Squad Leaders/Team Moms, and Vehicle Operators. Also the person with the shittiest stat distribution gets the role of “Waterboy/Team Bitch”)
OTHER (Anything else important? Also, I was fucking with you about the Talent Show.)
I LIKE (Once a couple sheets are in, post what characters your character likes. If you want, you can expound upon this. Ex. "I think Chad's cute")
I DISLIKE (Once a couple sheets are in, post what characters your character dislikes. If you want, you can expound upon this. Ex. "Fuck you, Chad.")

ATTRIBUTES
You have 19 points to allocate between each stat. Remember, you cannot have zero in a stat. Please don't be the dick that has 1's in 5 of the stats and then has a Strength of 14 or something. Remember your character should be able to make into the Dreadnaughts, an elite group. If you’re an infantryman with a Strength of 1, I’m going to question how you made it through the entry exams. One last time: it’s okay to suck at things. I’m sure it won’t come back to bite you or anything.

Strength
Dexterity
Constitution
Wisdom
Intelligence
Charisma

SKILLS
Remember, you don't fill this part out. Please don't give me suggested values, either. Every time someone gives suggested values, I notice they're suspiciously higher than the ones I would normally give them.

Melee Combat, Finesse
Melee Combat, Brute
Unarmed Combat, Finesse
Unarmed Combat, Brute

Marksmanship
Explosives
Tactics
Operating

Medicine
Sneaking
Mechanics
Camouflage
Survival

Persuasion
Intimidation
Regulation
Lying
Leadership

Willpower
Morale
Stamina
Health

SPECIALIZATION

Your character’s absolute best quality or skill. This is specific. “Being very good with guns” is not a specialization. “Marksmanship: Long Rifles” or “Marksmanship: Handguns” would be a specialization. Alternatively, it could be “Unarmed Combat: Krav Maga”, “Persuasion: Talking People Down”, or something similar.

The Rules

RULES

These rules are final. Any dilemmas, suggestions, or questions you have, I'm happy to hear them.

1. My word is final. I am willing to indulge in debate, as there are very rare moments when I'm wrong, but at the end of the day my call is final. I don't want to go about starting controversy or making things authoritarian, and for the most part I want this RP to be run by you guys as much as possible-however, if I feel you're doing something out of line and call you on it, be prepared to swallow your pride and go with it. It sucks, I know.
2. No godmodding, metagaming, powerplaying, autohitting, etc. This is theoretically impossible with the stat system, but hey, I'm putting it out there anyways.
3. There are no rules regarding the preservation of your characters. Lemme put this to you this way: if you fuck yourself over, I'm not doing shit to help you out, and your teammates aren't obliged to either. If you decide to run headlong into a firefight, try and set off explosives ten feet away from you, or plunge into hypothermic water bare-ass naked, you're probably gonna die. There will be no Plot Armor, no mysterious bending of the laws of physics to ensure your character lives, etc. You probably won't even get to utter any badass last words. As in real life, death is a very real possibility in combat. If you don't (rightly) feel your character is in genuine danger, there's not going to be as much suspense in this RP. By joining this RP, you are waiving your right to throw a hissyfit if your character dies. No one has Plot Armor. There will be no implausibly lucky events to save your character if they get themselves into a bad situation. I want there to be real suspense in this RP and, as such, there’s a real risk your character can die.
4. Building off that previous rule-teamwork. Your characters are welcome to hate one another, but you're all fighting for the same side (for now...mwahahaha). You will find that trying to go off on your own or actively thwart your teammates may not turn out very well. United, you stand, divided, you get your asses handed to you. Similarly, treat your fellow RP'ers with respect. If you have an issue with the way someone's RP'ing, I am more than happy to hear it. I ask that you PM me instead of taking it into your own hands, just so we don't have grudges and such mucking up the RP.
5. Realism is very important. Now, none of us (presumably) have been in the military, and even fewer of us have worked as mercenaries. So don't feel like you need to go look up a list of military jargon and speak 100% accurately, or act perfectly 100% like a soldier. I'm referring more to the RP'ing elements: if you shoot a gun, mention that it has recoil. Eventually, said gun will run out of bullets. And eventually, YOU will run out of bullets. Now, I don't want to keep a running ammo count, etc, so I'll trust you guys unless it gets out of hand. If your character is packing a ton of ammunition, then they'll move slower and may suffer Dexterity penalties/Stamina faster. If your character carries one magazine so they can run nice and fast, that's great, but I'll be suspicious if they fire non-stop for sixty posts. Your characters will get hungry, thirsty, hurt, afraid, so on and so forth. If you don't take it upon yourselves to be realistic, I'll enforce realism upon you. If you shoot your rifle for a post straight, you should mention reloading. Infinite ammunition, perfect aiming, and never getting hit by shrapnel are advantages that Hollywood heroes have that we do not.
6. This stat system is fluid! Holistic is perhaps a better word. I don't want us to be constrained by it, but rather have it help us out. So if I decide that it's getting in the way, we can make changes. Again, I'm very welcome to suggestions or critiques.
7. This RP will be literate. We may roll some die to determine whether or not you shot that terrorist or shot some poor civilian twenty yards to his right (you have shitty aim in this scenario), but overall, I expect quality posts. Your characters should be shown and not told. Details should be given and several paragraphs per post are expected. Quality posts here, guys. This RP will move at a pretty slow pace, so I don't feel like it's ridiculous to ask for. You don't need to write walls of text each time your character takes a piss, but in the heat of a firefight, there is plenty of detail to discuss.
8. Creativity! Please do not submit thirty battle-hardened, endured-some-unbelievably-traumatic-past-but-is-still-totally-capable-of-functioning-in-society crack shot snipers. Please. I'm begging you. There are no Mary Sues, there are no perfect characters. If I sense that your character is annoyingly tragic or annoyingly perfect, I will call you on it. I don't want to be a dick here but I've seen a lot of sheets like that and they're annoying, first and foremost, but an insult to your fellow writers, who now have to RP alongside a 2-d caricature. Your character should have flaws, but virtues. Desires and fears. Natural reactions to their experiences. Remember, any position is welcome with the Dreadnaughts: infantryman, medic, sniper, pilot, explosives expert, a deep cover agent, so on and so forth. Hell, we had a 70 year old drill sergeant and someone who RP'ed as an attack dog once. Your character should have a legitimate reason for being with a mercenary organization as well. Money? Prestige? Maybe they get into a teensy bit of trouble back home and are looking for an extradition-proof shelter? So on and so forth. The Dreadnaughts also have a harsh rule on killing one of their own (outside of combat, that is-I'm talking the Mafia and such), and have deterred most criminal groups from getting revenge. If you run afoul of some not-so-friendly types, the Dreadnaughts could be a potential guardian angel for you.
9. This isn't really a rule, but feel free to call me Shade. It's the normal handle I use on RP'ing websites and some jackass imposter other member of this website dared lay claim to took the username 'fore I could get my bloodthirsted claws hands on it.
10. Oh yeah. Cursing and shit’s okay. Also, this will be dealing with some mature themes. If your character’s a woman and gets taken prisoner, bad things might happen. Drugs, alcoholism, etc will likely come up. If you’re going to have a sexual relationship/a rape scene, that’s fine (well, I mean, rape’s not fine, but you know what I mean), but fade to black. Otherwise, go crazy.
11. I touched on this before but watch for power creep and character pissing contests. Some of your characters will be quantifiably better than others in certain fields. If you are better than every other character at everything, then you’re probably the OP who doesn’t have to play by the rules (hah suck it). In all seriousness, use the stats as a guide. You are not trying to “win” this RP, nor are you out to convince us all of how badass your soldier is. Being badass isn’t something you have to tell people or remind people of-and amongst the ranks of the Dreadnaughts, it’s pretty damned difficult to stand out as exceptionally badass. Please be mature about this and don’t try and have the sexiest/smartest/strongest/etc character out there. Being the best in your field is okay; being the best in every field is not.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

Skills

SKILLS

Skills are your character's talents. While your skills are partially dependent on your attributes, they're also somewhat independent of them: as I've stated before, this RP's stat system will be holistic at times. If I feel your character deserves skills that aren't necessarily reflected by their Attributes, I'll change it-but these cases will be RARE. I will assign your Skill values. If you have a serious problem with them, I'm open to discussion, but for the most part, I'm not going to be changing skills around too much. Again, your character should not be good at everything, and that's okay. This RP is meant to be team-based, and having to rely on your fellow RP'ers is not going to be that bad. Probably.

Your skills are determined from your attributes,but these are also flexible. If, say, your character is a tough, 6'6, 400 pound hoss, and you're using a big machine gun, I may use Strength and Dexterity to determine your marksmanship instead of Dexterity and Wisdom. So on and so forth. This is on a case-by-case basis, but the attributes aren't necessarily set in stone. Furthermore, I know there are skills that aren't listed here. Like, say...cooking. These more obscure skills will be determined on an as-needed basis, so don't worry about it. Now, your Attributes may not necessarily affect the values. For instance, Dexterity and Intelligence both affect Operating and Explosives. If your character has a 5 in both of those, but was a civilian pilot their whole life before coming to the Dreads, then their Explosives stat is still going to be pretty low. Again, the stat system's fluid. Don't try and game it, because even I'm not following it that well. I'll take into account your character's bio and such in addition to their attributes. If your character has one arm, I don't care how high their Strength is, their Unarmed is probably a little lower.

MELEE SKILLS
Because shooting commies just isn’t as much fun.
Melee Combat, Finesse (Con+Dex): Melee Combat based off grace and precision. If you were, say, using a butterfly knife, then your combat would be determined by this.
Melee Combat, Brute (Con+Str): Melee Combat based off haymakers and raw force. If you were using a two by four, then your combat would be determined by this.
Unarmed Combat, Finesse (Dex+Con): Unarmed Combat in the style of martial arts and quickness. Some 80 year old karate guru would fight like this.
Unarmed Combat, Brute (Str+Con): Unarmed Combat in the style of punching the fuck out of things. Andre The Giant would fight like this.

WARFIGHTER SKILLS
Because you played too many violent video games.

Marksmanship (Dex+Wis) From gunslinging to sniping, this is the measure of how skilled a shot you are.
Explosives (Dex+Int) The use of explosive devices, from land mines to rocket launchers. Explosives can, if you're desperate, be jury rigged from household materials. PM me if you wanna know how!!!
Tactics (Int+Wis) The devising of strategies and ways to gain the upper hand in combat. Also, helps you kick ass at Risk.
Operating (Dex+int) Your ability to operate military vehicles, whether it's an APC, helicopter, or that claw thing you scoop up toys with.

NON-COMBAT SKILLS
Because God made you smart enough to stay away from people who want to kill you.

Medicine: (Int+Wis) Everything ranging from applying band-aids to brain surgery. Hope that your squadmates lean more towards "brain surgery"
Sneaking (Dex+Con) Moving quietly and going about unnoticed. Higher level Sneakers may be able to utilize cardboard boxes as camouflage.
Mechanics (Int+Dex) Proficiency with repairing mechanical devices. Jumpstarting cars or hotwiring tanks fall under this category.
Camouflage (Con+Int) Ability to paint yourself pretty colors and not get noticed. Like Peeta!
Survival (Int+Wis) Ability to harness the nature around you for the purposes of not dying. Identifying poisonous plants, starting fires, Boy Scout stuff.

INTERPERSONAL SKILLS
Because in the RP full of badass mercenaries, you wanted to be the HR guy.

Persuasion: (Cha+Int) A measure of how good a smoothtalker you are.
Intimidation (Str+Con) For when you're not in the mood to beat somebody's ass, but you need them to do something anyways.
Lying (Cha+Int) This is what determines how well your character can juggle.
Regulation (Cha+Wis) This is what helps you calm others and keep them collected. Also, the Lying thing was supposed to be a joke, I dunno if it was good or not.
Leadership (Cha+Wis) Your ability to inspire faith in others. Those with Higher Leadership will boost the morale of those around them.

FLUID SKILLS
Because, like, everything changes, man.

These stats are named “Fluid Skills” because they are in constant flux. Different factors or events may change these stats-your attributes will affect how resistant to change they are. Someone with a high Constitution will lose Stamina more slowly-someone with a high Wisdom will keep their Morale higher for longer.

Willpower (Wis): A measurement of how determined your character is. Strong resolve, morale, and tenacity will affect this. Things like torture might bring this down a little. Willpower is also a reflection of your character’s mental fatigue. After taking a grueling, six hour exam, this stat may be lowered.
Morale (Wis): A measurement of how motivated your character is. Rallying pep talks and liquor will boost this, while getting shot down by hot chicks and torture will lower this. Morale determines your efficacy as a soldier and resistance to psychological warfare.
Stamina (Con): Stamina is a measure of how exhausted your character is. As your Stamina drops (10 being fully refreshed, 1 being totally burned out), your physical capabilities will suffer. Those with low Constitutions should avoid prolonged strenuous activity, and extended fighting may cause your Stamina to drop, resulting in bad things (for example, shaky arms while firing).
Health (Con): A measure of overall wellness. Things like bullets, knives, and falling off tall places will bring your Health down. The lower your Health, the more crippling effects you'll receive. These are normally only able to be removed through medical care, so don't be a dick to the medic. If you suffer a severe wound, you may suffer from nasty things like internal bleeding. If this happens, your Health will continue to drop until you're treated. Otherwise, you'll die and stuff. Try and avoid that.

Specializations

SPECIALIZATIONS

Okay so if you're upset about not getting to pick your own skills or whatever, I'll let you choose one field for your character to specialize in. This will be a Skill, with a subset of said skill. For example, let's say your character is a sniper. Your Specialization could be "Marksmanship: Bolt Action Rifles". This field will need to be quite specific. This will be your one, super-awesome-tastic field. The benefits of this I haven't figured out quite yet-it may be a solid boost to all your Checks, or maybe a situational thing. Who knows. Regardless, decide what your character's one best trait is, and list it as this.

Fate Points

FATE POINTS

Now, we're not going to be using the Fate system, mainly because I don't really know what it is. However, there is a system we'll be blatantly plagiarizing: Fate Points. Every character will have ONE Fate Point. These points can be used to appeal to me for a different outcome. For example, let's say you're a dumbass and you run out into the thick of a firefight right as the RP starts. Normally, your ass would look like hamburger meat as a result. However, you decide that in order to avoid dying in the first page of the RP, you're going to use your one Fate Point. This can be used for a moment that, otherwise, would only be possible through Fate or Destiny or Divine Intervention. Maybe you come out of that firefight totally unscathed. Or someone holds a gun to your head, pulls the trigger, aaaand it jams. Now, bear in mind this can only be used ONCE, and I'm averse to hearing the specifics of the situation. I'd rather hear: "I would like to use my Fate Point to save my character from dying right here". I'm open to general ideas, but don't get carried away. This is going to balance out the fact that this RP will otherwise not be very merciful on your characters-you're going to need to stay close and work as a unit. We're fighting dangerous enemies, and the risk of your character being killed is pretty high. Play cautiously and use your Fate Point only as a last resort. There's no way to earn more.

The Stat System

THE STAT SYSTEM

“But, Shade, how does it even work?”

Hey! You waited for me to finish. Good on you. There’s hope for you yet. Now, I’m not big on math and I worked this out, so if you’re not fond of numbers, don’t worry. If any of this starts confusing you, please don’t let that deter you from this RP-I will be handling all of this. You will RP like you normally would, with me throwing wrenches into your best laid plans throughout.

Now, the Stat System in this RP has three components: the Check, The Roll, and the Modifier. Whenever you go to do an action in this RP-something that’s actually worth it, not like, taking a piss or something, you will have to roll for it. The difficulty of the action will be represented by the Check: a number between 1 and 20 that rates how tough it is. Cutting through butter would be a check of 1 because it’s super easy. Cutting through concrete would be a check of 20 because it’s difficult.

So let’s say you are trying to shoot someone who is a hundred feet away, standing still. Clear conditions or whatever. This isn’t supremely difficult, so we’ll put the check at 10.

Now, in everything you do in life, there is an element of chance. Some more obvious examples of this would be playing roulette in Vegas, or taking those painkillers from that shady-as-fuck-trenchcoated guy that stands on the corner. However, that same element exists in everything-even in something as straightforward as shooting that motionless guy (we’re gonna name him Joe for simplicity’s sake). Maybe your gun jams. Maybe you accidentally left the safety on. Maybe Joe gets an itch on his leg and leans over at just the right moment.

That’s why we’ll be rolling the die. For that impartial, uncontrollable nature of real life that’s missing in some RP’s.

So, we’ll randomly roll a dice (with 20 sides) to determine what your value is. If your roll is equal to, or greater than, the Check, then you have successfully done whatever you were trying (SUCKS TO BE YOU JOE). If you have a roll that is lower than the Check, then you will not successfully do whatever it is you were trying to do (YOUR LUCKY DAY, JOE).

“But, Shade!” you protest. “I’m noticing a glaring flaw in all of this! It isn’t pure chance! Surely skill plays into this as well! Wouldn’t a trained Navy SEAL Sniper have a better chance of shooting Joe than, say, Hellen Keller?”

Indeed you would! That’s where the Modifier comes in. Your Modifier affects your original roll, taking into account your skills and attributes. This is where your character’s stats, attributes, and such will come into play. So, let’s say you only roll an 8, even though you need a 10 to shoot Joe. Well, if your character has nothing that would help them make the shot, they’ll miss. But, if you’re a trained marksman, your modifiers may bump that up high enough to make it work. Whoop Whoop!

Of course, this can cut both ways-in some rare circumstances, you’ll suffer penalties to these stats. Say your 6’9, 400 pound bodybuilder is trying to sneak somewhere. While he may have crazy bonuses to punching people and being swole, he may not be as skilled in moving around quietly or gracefully. This, however, is a natural tradeoff of the system-don’t sweat this.

I know this is a lot to take in, but there’s a few things left. Just as there’s an element of chance involved in whether or not you manage to do something, there’s also an element of chance in how successful you are.

Let me explain that. Let’s say that Joe is standing right next to a wall. And instead of you being a hundred feet away, you’re ten feet away. The check is still at 10. In some situations, you’ll have more possible outcomes than just “Success” or “Failure”. Just like in real life, things can go catastrophically wrong-or unpredictably well for you. Some examples.

You roll a 0.. Critical Failure. The bullet misses Joe, hitting the wall behind him and ricocheting back to hit one of your teammates. Way to go, Annie Oakley.

You roll a 9. Failure. The bullet misses Joe and goes through the wall. Out of sight, out of mind!

You roll a 10. Success. The bullet hits Joe. What the fuck man? Joe was cool.

You roll a 20. Critical Success. The bullet passes through Joe’s eye socket and out the wall on the other side. Joe, as it turns out, was standing guard next to a fuel depot. The room explodes, somehow not harming you, but taking out several enemies on the other side of the door.

Now, these sorts of different turnouts won’t always happen. More than likely, it’ll be in high-intensity situations, or in situations that have the capability to go horribly, hilariously wrong, or ridiculously well for you. Like, say, trying to shoot a terrorist who’s using a human shield. Or trying to use that robot claw to pick out the stuffed animal you want but there are a bunch of stupid ones next to it you might get. You get the idea.

As for the actual numbers, this is it. Those who think STEM sucks, feel free to skip on until you stop seeing numbers.

Check VS {[(Relevant Skill/2)+(Relevant Attribute/2)] x (Relevant Fluid Stat, Scaled)} + d20

Let me give you a few examples to illustrate how this works. You are trying to snipe someone a mile away, which, being a reasonably difficult feat, has a check of 17. Your Relevant Skill, Marksmanship, is at 8, and your Relevant Attribute, Dexterity, is at 6. Your Relevant Fluid Stat is Fatigue, which is at 7. You roll a 13.

17 VS [(4+3) x (1)] +13
17 VS 7+13
17 VS 20

You pass the check and shoot the guy successfully. Hurray for you. Now, you’re probably a bit confused about the Fluid Stat part. 7 is a baseline value for all your fluid stats. With a Morale/Health/etc of 7, your modifier (the Relevant Attributes and Stats/2) is the exact same. With a Relevant Fluid Stat (RFS from here on out) of 8, 9, or 10, your character has a superior amount of whatever that is: maybe they’re very well-rested physically, super-amped psychologically, or crazy focused on the task at hand. You get the idea. They will receive a bonus of their modifier being x1.1, x1.2, or x1.3. All figures are rounded up, also. The flipside to this is that if you’re below 7, your character is sub-par in that stat. Maybe they’re exhausted from fighting all day, broken from days of torture, etc. They will then suffer a lessened modifier: a RFS of 6 gets them x.9, 5 is x.8, all the way to x.4. Try and avoid that, mmmkay?

So, let’s say that this time, you’re making the same shot, but you’re incredibly exhausted-on the verge of passing out, even-and your Stamina is a measly 1.

17 VS [(4+3) x (.3)]+ 13
17 VS [(2)]+13
17 VS 15

A relatively close shave, but it illustrates my point nonetheless. You miss the shot and do not kill the guy you were aiming at. Hurray for him. As you can see, Fatigue, Morale, etc, will play an important role.

For clarification…
RFS
10 (the absolute max your character could have: incredibly well-rested, in a berserker-like fury, etc)= x1.3
9 = x1.2
8 = x1.1
7 (baseline: normal, neither good nor bad.) = x1
6 = x.9
5 = x.65
4 = x.4
3= x.3
2 = x.25.
1 = x.2
0 (at zero, your character would likely immediately fail whatever check it was, as well as suffer from some dire repercussions. a 0 in Health would be entering critical condition or outright dying; a 0 in Morale would result in a psychological breakdown; a 0 in Stamina would result in your character passing out from fatigue; a 0 in Willpower would result in your character’s admission of defeat and simply giving up, likely dragging your Morale down with it.)

Hey people who don’t like numbers resume reading here

Now, some of you may be wondering how certain actions outside of this system are handled. For instance, communicating. In the RP, when you have access to the Dreadnaughts' comm network, talking will be a free action that can be done in the OOC. So, if your group turns the corner and sees a tank rolling towards them, you can just go in the OOC and hash out what you're going to do, then your next post in the IC you can sum it up pretty quickly ("Carl, the squad leader, reacted first, barking an order for everyone to play dead") instead of taking like sixty IC posts to discuss it, and trying to pad those IC posts to a paragraph with fluff. This is, IC, explained away by both the synergy of your team and the headsets in your helmets. Now, if you're in a situation where your helmet has been irreparably damaged, or maybe you're busting out of a POW camp and don't have it, this will not be the case, and you'll need to actually talk in the IC (similarly, I'll imagine that's how you want to handle more meaningful conversations in the IC). While you have access to the comms, you can also contact the lovely Maria for support-or any other adviser-type characters who are at the Dreadnaughts' HQ. They'll be able to survey the battlefield through satellites, spy planes, etc, and offer their advice for what you should do. You can also coordinate efforts with other RP'ers this way-for instance, if someone's a sniper, half a mile away, you can request they pop a cap in an enemy for you. Again, this feature's only available when you have access to a helmet, or a satellite phone or whatever. Teamwork and synergy will be necessary to stay alive in this RP , so make sure you work out issues diplomatically as RP'ers, even if your characters are busy with their own violent brand of diplomacy.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

Tayibe, Iraq (Currently Under Control of the Islamic State)
November 9th, 2015
3: 27 P.M., Local Time

For a moment, there was a second sun in the Afghan sky.

The howls of men and dogs alike were silenced. Everyone stopped, arched their necks back, and uttered, in a variety of tongues, "Oh, sh*t".

The Dreadnaughts' helicopter was six million dollars with of machinery that was about to become six cents worth of scrap metal. The communications lines of the elite mercenaries it up with panicked queries for Belroth, manic cursing, and the equally loud silence of total shell-shock. The helicopter began tilting to the side as it very quickly slurred between flying and falling. It smashed into the ground, sending thunder rolling down the small, dusty alleyways of Tayibe and coughing up a cloud of black smoke not three hundred yards from where the Dreadnaughts had fast-roped in.

The city-if Tayibe could be called that- was in the middle of nowhere, about fifty or sixty miles from the nearest village, and its residents were as apt to die from dehydration and heat exhaustion as they were the Dreadnaughts' bullets. The village was a cluster of sun-bleached houses and a general feeling of dereliction-while there was a training camp for insurgents not far from the village, there was no doubt that this particular piece of Iraq was dying more quickly than the rest. Faces of the villages were scarred and weathered hands callused and shaky, and eyes dim and faded from years of the harsh desert sun. There were perhaps five or six thousand people in Tayibe, with a pretty uneven age divide: the constant influx of young men to the local camp made sure of that.

And, as of ten minutes ago, their demographics had changed. The Dreadnaughts were sent in on a very simple mission: somewhere inside Tayibe was a prisoner that the United States was willing to pay a hefty sum for. The Dreadnaughts were to come in, find the prisoner, and get back out. Simple! Just like the Battle of Waterloo and Operation Barbarossa were supposed to be. Unfortunately, some ISIS fanatic with an RPG had made that plan somewhat unfeasible. There was a very ominous change in the tide of the battle, as the Afghans, no longer beleaguered by Dreadnaught air support-and knowing their enemy had no means of escape-began shouting chants at the top of their lungs, loud enough to drown out the cacophony of gunfire. The Dreadnaughts very quickly found cover as seemingly the entire city of Tayibe began to descend on them; within a minute, things had gone from entirely-as-planned to being one of the roughest failures in the Dreadnaughts' history.

But this is what they got paid for.

A Look At The Dreadnaughts

The Dreadnaughts. Much like the city of Tayibe, they are entirely fictional, and much like the city of Tayibe, they are very deadly. They're unparalleled in the military world, an elite group of perhaps six to seven hundred mercenaries of peerless skill. All have come from dozens of countries around the world, ranging from special forces groups to the most prestigious hospitals to cutting-edge R and D departments. Regardless of where they hail from or who they hail to, they have one thing in common: They are damned good at their jobs. Charging exorbitant rates for equally unbelievable results, the Dreadnaughts have quickly cemented their reputation as the prime PMC amongst many others. Frequently getting contracts from The United States, Russia, China, and many other major players in the political arena, The Dreadnaughts have emerged as a small but nonetheless powerful blip on the global radar.

The Dreadnaughts, as you may have surmised, are who you'll be playing as in this RP. I have no idea why your character has joined forces with them: perhaps it's for the paycheck, which is...well, there's not a single Dreadnaught that needs to work a second job. Maybe it's for the prestige: there's a certain appeal to being a member of a group that even Delta Force and the Spetsnaz are impressed by. Maybe it's for the power-there's no doubt the Dreadnaughts are going places, and there's a lot of people out there who want to be on the winning team.

Regardless, you have one boss now: a man by the name of Belroth Daemond. Intelligent, charismatic, and a skilled strategist, he's carved the Dreadnaughts over the last nine or ten years into an elite group, and earned the respect of both his soldiers and world leaders alike in the process. An undoubtedly wealthy man, Belroth's origins are mysterious (the most that anyone has been able to deduce for sure is that Belroth was in some form of covert Cold War organization, and that he's in his fifties), likely because he changes his backstory every time he's asked about it. Belroth is a well-educated man who typically directs his troops from the front lines, normally overseeing his soldiers from a bird's eye view (aside from more sensitive, stealth-related missions, obviously), a stratagem which has proven to be unwise recently. However, he's certainly a skilled tactician, and is generally admired by the troops-but, given their paychecks, admiration is pretty damned easy to attain.

Some Frequently Asked Questions, Courteously Answered by the Dreadnaughts

But where would such a wealthy and professional mercenary organization set up their home base?

The Dreadnaughts' headquarters is located in the Alands Island in Finland. Belroth is attempting to negotiate the secession of the island from the Finnish government, to secure the islands as the Dreadnaughts' own private nation state, but there has been little progress on that front. They are, however, afforded a degree of semi-autonomy, as the Dreadnaughts' presence is both an (admittedly, minor) deterrent to the Big Bad Russian Wolf next door, and the copious bribes donations made to the Finnish government.

Do the Dreadnaughts have street cred with the United Nations? Don't they get get checked for human rights abuses and other silly things?

Belroth, through clever diplomacy, substantial donations to humanitarian organizations, and a strict policy on war crimes (any of his combatants that commit war crimes are extradited to their home country to stand trial) has managed to dissuade too much scrutiny from the United Nations. However, several bodies do routinely come by to check things out, but Belroth's superb management keeps things running smoothly. He may not be able to fight as he once could, but he's a handy administrator- owing heavily to the bureaucrats he's recruited as actively as he has soldiers and snipers.

Can I really be a soldier from ANYWHERE?

Indeed. Belroth has only two requirements of his soldiers-that they pull their own weight and that they leave any differences in nationality, religion, and politics at the door. Israelis and Palestinians, Indians and Pakistanis, all are held to the same standards. Provided you have a clean past (in terms of war crimes-depending on the crime and your skill level, Belroth is willing to consider felons, but he tends to reject rapists or murderers) and the necessary skill set, you're in. Be a US Marine, a Russian Spetsnaz, a Zimbabewean...whatever it is they have.

This deal sounds great, and in no way could possibly backfire, but I have to ask, what kinds of benefits are we looking at? Do you cover dental?

Belroth's insurance package is pretty generous. Owing to the exorbitant rates he charges and the several bankers he has keeping the Dreadnaughts' reserves constantly growing, your healthcare will be excellent. Similarly, Belroth can get his hands on whatever weaponry or gear you feel necessary for your job. If you want a 17th century rifle or one that, according to the CIA, doesn't even exist, he can find it for you. Again, this assuming you get the job done. As such, your character can be outfitted with whatever gear they feel is necessary (but, just for practical reasons, don't go crazy. If you have something idiotic, like twenty Desert Eagles and no clothes but a loincloth, I'm just gonna laugh when your character dies). Additionally, soldiers are allowed to opt out of missions they don't feel comfortable with, and there's considerable vacation time. Normally, you'll come in for a job, and then you're able to fly back home or stay at the HQ until the next job.

Any weapon, right? So I can use-

No. No katana.

But you said-

Fuck you that’s what I said. Look, I did say any weapon. However, be reasonable. If everyone starts going for purely Rule-of-Cool based weapons then, hey hey, you’re all going to get muskets and water pistols. Feel free to go with whatever your character would find the best tool to get the job done-but ensure it is, in fact, the best tool to get the job done. There is not going to be a situation where your character’s ninja stars or 2nd century weapon is somehow superior to state-of-the-art gear today. Likewise, if your character has two M60s, one for each hand, a flamethrower, and a portable railgun for their loadout, I’m going to be equally annoyed. Remember, you’re a professional soldier here (or maybe not). True badasses can make any weapon they use badass-Bruce Lee would be just as intimidating in bunny slippers as he would be in that yellow jumpsuit. Also, please don’t take that as an invitation to try and be the most badass person ever. Wow, I got derailed on this one. Next question.

This all sounds great, but what if I get stuck with a nightmare boss? You know, like Michael Scott?

The chain of command's pretty fluid. Given the expertise of all the parties involved, most are capable of handling themselves-especially given that missions tend to rely on small groups working cohesively and effectively. However, Belroth will appoint leaders on an as-needed basis: no one has a higher ranking than anyone else, save for the Big Man himself. As such, you may all get chances to call the shots, but it will likely settle on whoever has better Leadership and Charisma, or maybe who's more experienced and combat savvy. Or maybe you guys will have secret agent types, I dunno. Stop asking me questions. I'm tired.

Attributes

ATTRIBUTES

Attributes are the core values that determine your character's broadest capabilities. These, along with your bio, described skill set, and so on, will determine your SKILLS, which are more specific applications of your Attributes. Let me put it to you this way: martial arts would be a skill, something you hone and work towards, whereas your potential for effectiveness with martial arts would be determined by your physical strength and quickness. Actually, I think that just confused it more. Whatever.

Note that your Attributes should accurately reflect your character's abilities. This system is designed for you to be unable to be good at everything. If you want to be a physical juggernaut, buffing up Strength and Constitution, that's totally cool-but you're going to suffer accordingly. This is not to discourage you from making a specialized character-no one in life is good at everything. There's something that everyone sucks at, and even amongst the elites of the Dreadnaughts, you're going to have some weak points. I would, personally, avoid a jack-of-all-trades character, but also avoid having crippling weaknesses.

STRENGTH

Strength is an indicator of raw physical power. No finesse, no focus, just brute force. Someone with a lot of Strength would be best suited for wrestling or football.Those with high Strength will find tasks involving muscle and power much easier-this can range from carrying more ammunition (think: two belts, over your chest, like a boss, and you so swole you don't even feel that shit on you) to being able to pick up and carry your weaker, less-manly comrades when they get hurt. Why'd they get hurt? Because they can't lift half as much as you can. Because you're strong. Because you picked up Bane in one hand and Mike Tyson in the other. Because you piss pure testosterone. Need I go on? No, I don’t, because all these words are hurting your underdeveloped brain.

Strength, in short, will affect tasks that require brute force-melee and unarmed combat, how quickly your character fatigues, what weaponry they’re capable of using easily, etc.

DEXTERITY

Dexterity is a measurement of coordination, precision, and reflexes. Someone with Dexterity would be best suited for gymnastics, marksmanship, or, the most prestigious of all sports, parkour. Those with high Dexterity will find tasks involving accuracy or speed to be much easier-by the way, speed here is more like reflexes or moving quickly, not a faster mile time or anything. Dexterity will be necessary for gunslingers and infiltrators alike, and also anyone who wants to be able to help their squad win the Dreadnaughts Annual Beer Pong Competition. While your more sluggish, tortoiselike comrades are busy getting shot and suckerpunched, you'll be standing in the center of the hurricane, seeing the world in bullet-time.

Dexterity, in short, will affect tasks that require precision and reflexes-quick draws, marksmanship, and defusing bombs are examples of tasks you want to be Dexterous for.

CONSTITUTION

Constitution is a measurement of health, physique, and durability. Someone with high Constitution would be best suited for rope-a-dopeing their enemy in boxing, or maybe cross country running. Because college is not going to pay for itself. Those with high Constitution will find that they get tired more slowly, that those poison darts they just got hit with don't really seem to be doing anything, and that if you miss those vaccines you're supposed to get every few years, you'll still turn out okay. Constitution's important for anyone who doesn't want to get left behind during daily PT will want to invest a few points here. When your platoon gets hit with toxic gas, the little bitches you are contractually bound to call "squadmates" are gonna be passing out. You're the sort you can eat six steaks a day and not gain a pound, although maybe that has something to do with the twelve back-to-back three minute miles you run each morning.

Constitution, in short, will affect tasks that require physical wellness and toughness-resistance to disease, injury, and poison, your endurance, and your resiliency are all factors that are determined by Constitution.

CHARISMA

Charisma is a measurement of charm, social capabilities, and rhetoric. Those with high Charisma would be best suited for stealing your girl while you're busy playing football or running cross country. Those with high Charisma will find that they can smoothtalk even the most stubborn of adversaries, analyze the insecurities of the people they're talking to, and never go home alone after a night on the town. Charisma will influence your ability to win over others, boosting morale and subtly influence their behavior. After all, why get yourself shot when you talk some dumb bastard who dumped all his points into Strength into doing it for you? You'll be at the base, asking (read: ordering) Belroth for a raise while he shines your shoes

Charisma, in short, will affect interpersonal tasks: persuading others to join your case, selling elaborate lies off the cuff, and leading your flock of sheep-like comrades into the fray are all skills affected by Charisma.

WISDOM

Wisdom is a measurement of life experience, discipline, and sagacity. Those with high Wisdom would be best suited for being team captain of any sport, finding that they could apply themselves to succeed in any situation. While the Charisma guys are off making the chicks swoon and the Dexterity asshole is throwing playing cards into a brick wall, you'll be sitting in your room, quietly contemplating the nature of warfare. Is a mercenary's role just, or are you merely an extension of the military-industrial complex? Also, like, what if the color blue that you see isn’t the same as the one I see? Those with high Wisdom are patient, natural leaders, and unshakable in even the most high intensity of situations. They're the sorts of people that others turn to during stressful times. Also, they can say the most bullshit things ever, but as long as they stare off into the distance and say it in a really Zen way, people will totally buy it. Probably even get it tattooed on their chest or something, too.

Wisdom, in short, affects your calmness and clearmindedness-those with a high Wisdom are more resilient to psychological trauma, more capable of helping to calm others and keep them focused, and more disciplined and focused on the task at hand.

INTELLIGENCE

Intelligence is a mensuration of one's intellectual capabilities. Perchance the lesser combatants of the Dreadnaughts paramilitary organization lapse into monosyllabic churlishness when they endeavor to convey their eloquence and cognitive-okay, I'm getting sick of this shit. Intelligence. You might get your ass kicked by the football team, but you've got Ivy Leagues as your fallback schools. Those with higher Intelligence will have superior problem-solving skills, more knowledge to draw from, and unparalleled analytical abilities. Also, you'll be crippled by student debt, but fuck it, when you're a neurologist who serves as the President's translator on the weekends, you'll pay that shit off in no time. Maybe, in a combat situation, everybody else will be firing wildly and running for cover. You'll be sizing up your surroundings like a modern-day Napoleon, maneuvering through the battlefield like a shark maneuvers through a sushi bar. And you kick ass at Jeopardy.

In short, Intelligence affects mental and analytical skills-problem-solving, strategizing, and comprehending advanced concepts like internal medicine or engineering.

City of Gold OOC

May

The rain had begun to fall in Mendel. Murders? Rainstorms? And a small army of superpowered fucktards running amok.

Rain fell soft and slow on the black Thunderbird resting outside of Our Place. It had been there for a suspicious amount of time, unmolested by gangbangers or car strippers, unnoticed by the police. Perhaps two or three days, which was a subjective eternity to be motionless on the streets of Mendel. Still, this was a decent neighborhood to leave a vintage car. The sleek black steel was unblemished, not a single speck of mud or inch of rust. It was...out of place, to say the least, next to some beat up old jalopy and one of those awkward three-wheel motorcycles. The car sat silent, still, but almost alive, as it was a hibernating bear as opposed to steel and fiberglass. Someone watching very closely would perhaps notice the side mirrors twitch just a hair in either direction before the windshield wipers, stealthy as mute ninjas, squicked the front windshield totally dry. They settled back into place, the raindrops rolling off the car and keeping it far drier than it should've been under the circumstances.

It waited quietly, mirror-sheen polish glinting in the Mendel nightlight, an almost sad loneliness across the car's perfectly maintained exterior.

Cassidy May Lynn

That Whisper! A flash of irritation danced across Cassidy's features. Did Cassidy go over and interrupt Whisper's little gang games? No. No she didn't. Did she go over and whip out the sword from Whisper's sheath-and, in lieu of razor-edged steel, pull out a bouquet of flowers? No. She did none of these things. So why did the Vanguard's uppity little headmistress feel the need to interrupt Cass' fun? Besides, it wasn't like Titus had any chance of winning. Cassidy observed the confusion across his face, cobwebbed portions of his brain labelled "critical thinking" and "analysis" being forced to start up after many dormant decades of slumber. Bah. No. Fun. At all. No, maybe she wouldn't be staying in Mendel very long. These people may be interesting, but they certainly didn't have much in the way of common courtesy.

"Leave?" Cassidy Lynn murmured to herself. "The fun is just getting started." Cass reached over and grabbed the bottle, the little wedding ring (shh, lemme tell you a secret-it was made of plastic) fading away into nothingness as Cassidy's little conjuration trick wore thin without her active effort. She raised the bottle to the silent bar and said, just audibly, "To debauchery!" before placing it on her lips and taking another deep tug. Of course, things were about to get rather violent within Club 76, and Cassidy had rather had enough violence for one night. As Titus ( [/i]predictably, boringly, lamely-does no one value originality anymore? Theatricality, children, let's work on it a touch[/i] ) ripped out the table, things almost seemed to blur in slow motion for the lightning-fast Cassidy Lynn. One by one, the cards flipped in the empty air, falling down towards the ground. Six different Jokers-no business cards-swirled in the empty air, prolonging their fall so the wine glasses and spoon could have a chance to catch up. Lynn closed her lips, sealing off the bubbly champagne as Titus loosed the table.

Lynn closed her eyes and, for a heartbeat and a half, was not physically in the bar. Poof. Gone. Just like that.

A moment later she was back in her seat, the spoon and the cards falling lamely to the floor (Cass quietly nudged the spoon and flipped it back) and the wine glasses shattering, prompting a sigh from Cassidy as she lowered the bottle. There was nothing but total nonchalance across her features-a bored sort of frown on her face, emotionless eyes hidden behind equally distant mirrored shades. "Not that money's an issue here, but just on general principle, I can't pay for that. Making such a mess of things." Cass leaned over, vaguely aware of Whisper and friends probably about to engage in some well-choreographed fight scene around her, and ripped tablecloth off the table next to her. She draped it over the shattered glass, the playing cards and the silver spoon, and jerked it up quickly, leaving only an empty floor devoid of any mess behind. Cassidy, back in the days when she found gambling to be amusing (the appeal had long since worn off, as she could win rather effortlessly with the usage of her powers), was rather used to the escalation of tensions within establishments such as this. Or, as the layperson called them, bar fights. She'd found the best course of action-aside from, of course, just walking out the front door (and using the chaos as a cover to avoid paying) to be getting a front row seat to the whole mess. This, of course, ran the risk of you getting a glass bottle to the back of the skull or a haymaker to the nose, but you ran those risks walking down the street, now didn't you?

Cassidy Lynn leaned back in her seat, surveying the unfolding chaos with amusement. Really now, it seemed like resorting to violence so quickly was just barbaric. One fellow-admittedly, not a very bright one, could probably be talked into leaving without too much difficulty. She off-handedly wondered how the private investigator dame was going to react to all this-if she had the brains that PIs are generally known for, she figured that the detective would make like a tree and get the fuck out of there. But life wouldn't be any fun if everyone acted all sensibly and rationally-hence why Cassidy was enjoying sitting in the center of the hurricane. Whisper dis-and-re-appeared. Eh. Okay form, but Cassidy had seen smoother. The one fellow intercepted the flying table. That was chivalrous. He also wanted to come back and watch baseball. Baseball. Bleh. At least in football they had trick plays, or the occasional sneaky penalty kick in soccer. Baseball was far too monotone for Cassidy's liking.

"An oaf, a ninjess, and a ballplayer walk into a bar," Cassidy murmured to herself, taking a small sip of the champagne and rolling a quarter over her knuckles (hey! where did that come from?) idly. "And the barkeep says, 'I must be Mendel to serve these fools! Snare drums. Everybody laughs. Curtains."

City of Gold OOC

Cassidy Lynn Daniels

There are a great many types of games you can play. Chess, checkers, blackjack, poker...truly, Cassidy Lynn Daniels was only interested in playing one type of game: a skin game.

Cassidy Lynn sat alone, surveying the Club 76's patrons from behind her glasses. The only one she really recognized was Little Miss Whisper, who had built up quite the name for herself. Cass wasn't the sort to run around in gang circles-talented though those gangs might be-but she recognized the Vanguard's little ringleader. She was the quiet one. Demure. She had the presence of a leader-you could see it in the way everyone else glanced at her, as if for approval. People ordered food for her and gave it to her. Same for drinks. Presumably, they did the same thing with corpses when the Vanguards started to get bored. Cassidy didn't plan on staying in Mendel for very long-she'd do her tricks for a few weeks and ride off into the sunset, but there was a certain charm to this city. Not to stay in, never to stay in, but perhaps to extend her stay by a week or two. Two gangs, each on the brink of warfare? A whisper (pardon the pun) of a murder on the horizon? This city felt like the Cold War, and Cassidy wanted to be there when it went hot. She'd have a lovely little vantage point to see all the fireworks below.

A little grin tugged at Cass' thin lips. Whisper? She was gonna put on one hell of a show. But she wasn't gonna make it out alive. Cassidy stuck to magic tricks, mostly, but she'd always mused about going into the psychic business. You had to have a touch of it to really sell an audience, regardless...and while there wasn't anything metahuman about her hunches, she had a good feeling that Whisper was either going to mosey out of Mendel or die in the gutters like a rabid dog.

But she wasn't the only patron, was she? There was a boy floating around spare change (Oh, this one's the fool. Never show your hand, love. ) and another dressed almost half as fashionably as Cassidy was (But the star sunglasses really are pushing it too far ), both warring over a little dame sitting at the bar (I think she lives near me....yes, she does. Same floor. ) Mmm. Some insecure looking girl was passing something to Kiyoshi, and there were a few of Whisper's little lapdogs groveling around her. All in all, a pretty motley crew.

Oh, and the knuckle-dragger that followed Cassidy Lynn. She could hardly blame him. The Fox? Little Miss Trickster? THE Cassidy Lynn Daniels? Why, who wouldn't follow after her? Presumably seeking an autograph. Or, given the gaudy emblem splashed over his jacket, perhaps he was just after something a bit more primeval.

Regardless, there were quite a few different types at the bar.

Skin games were to be had. Cassidy Lynn stood up, took a brief moment to straighten her suit and casually strolled across the bar, which was really rather mellow. No boisterous types starting fights, no agonized screams of recently-bankrupted-gamblers watching a sports game play out. A few guys hitting on a femme fatale and a hint of inner city violence. Cassidy Lynn saw a powderkeg in a coal mine in the Club 76, and she was itching for a smoke.

She reached the bar with a dazzling smile stretched across her face, the light scar on her face barely visible in the dim light of the bar. "Barkeep," Cassidy purred as she drew out three hundred dollars in cash, placing it on the bar. "Could I please have something delicious from your top shelf, two glasses, and a spoon?" She batted her eyelashes, purple eyeshadow against dark mascara. "Pretty please?"

Her request, shall we say, was quickly met. Carrying the bottle of champagne in one hand and the glasses in the other, she strolled with perfect grace across the bar and sat across from Titus MacArthur at his table, a soft little smirk on her face as she poured him a glass and slid it to him, pouring herself an ample amount before taking a delicious swig straight from the bottle. She placed it on the right side of the table, positioning it just so. Behind her a little ways sat Whisper and her cronies. In front of her about twenty feet or so was the trio of young'uns trying to jump into each others' pants. And in the center, the very center, sat Cassidy with the unfortunate result of an elephant mating with a steroid-addled human. Cassidy drew out a deck of cards and shuffled them casually, her fingers performing the task with such innate ease, one would perhaps question if she was actually born doing it. She slapped the two perfectly even halves of cards on the table and with surgical precision, used her well-filed nails to draw out a business card from within her coat. "I didn't catch your name," Cassidy drawled, placing the business card face down on the tops of the decks. She reached over to the bottle of champagne and pulled it close to her mouth. Her tongue pressed against her cheek and she fumbled around within her mouth for a moment, jaw moving as her tongue probed some hidden cavity within her teeth. She opened up, holding a wedding ring inbetween her pearly whites and somehow managing to smile as she did so. She let the ring fall into the bottle of champagne where it promptly sunk to the bottom. "But I think we should have a little fun tonight. That's Jack Frost's wedding ring at the bottom of this delicious bottle. Covered in all sorts of murderous, murderous fingerprints. And I've got," She pulled out Jenna's business card, "The contacts of a lovely little PI over there. Did you know she was Jackie's little fling on the side? His wife," Cassidy nodded at the bottle with her head, "Had no idea. And she was right there when it went down. Saw it all happen. And with her little lover wasted like a Thursday night sorority girl, well, she'd be awful happy to see a young bull like you come a-knockin' at the door." Cassidy, with one hand, shuffled the cards, "But the thing is, she's skipping town on account of this whole mess. She's over there talking to Whisper for protection. You've got an hour to call her private line," Cass flipped the business card over to reveal a phone number scrawled across the back, hastily etched. Before Titus could read it properly, she flipped it back over and laid it on top of one of the halves. She slipped the other over it and, with one hand, deftly shuffled out the cards, slapping six cards face down. "Six cards. So what I wanna see is this. Do you want to drink this entire bottle of champagne and get some hard evidence of who eighty-sixed your friend," Cassidy tapped the bottom of the bottle with a nail and the ring shifted slightly. "Of course, I count six Vanguards in here. And they may not be as friendly as me if you got all drunk and defenseless." Cassidy tapped the table next to the six cards resting on the table, "Or...do you want the business card. I'll give ya three tries. Fifty fifty chance. Either way," Cassidy said, drawing back in her seat, a comfortable distance (one that was out of Titus' arms' reach, most importantly) from him, "Cheers." Cass lifted her glass and took a deep sip, watching Titus with anticipation.

See, when you're a performer, you get a knack for who's smart enough to figure out your tricks and who's not. Just by sizing somebody up. And Cassidy knew very, very well that Titus wasn't falling into that first camp. He'd smash the bottle or try and grab all the cards or something similar. Or maybe he'd play along. Maybe Whisper and friends would take the bait and get involved. Either way, she was going to enjoy her night. The spoon rested on the table, forgotten amongst all the other lovely little toys Cassidy wanted to play with. Oooooh was she going to enjoy it. Little games like this. They say variety's the spice of life.

"Oh," Cassidy said off-handedly, as if she'd suddenly remembered, "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Joanna Lee. But you can just call me whatever you feel like. Now, let's have some fun."

Skin games. Skin games were the only kind worth playing.

City of Gold OOC

Cassidy Lynn Daniels

Cassidy Lynn walked with a seemingly permanent smirk on her face. Not the sort of arrogant smirk that tended to annoy people. It conveyed no condescension or elitism, but rather, it very quietly and very subtly said that Cassidy Lynn Daniels was in on a joke that was going to leave everybody on the ground when the punchline hit. Her tailor-made purple suit clung to her form quite nicely, and while Cassidy Lynn wasn't the most shapely, by no means falling into anyone's definition of a bombshell, it certainly...

...suited her nicely.

Normally, Cassidy Lynn had her hair styled in such a way that part of it fell over one of her eyes, a little purple highlight cutting across her brown locks and over her right eye. Today, she'd merely opted to let her short-cut hair fall around the back of her head, a little ways down her neck, with a pair of mirrored sunglasses resting lightly upon her face. The playful child's smirk that flashed her pearly whites drew a small bit of attention to the little dueling scar on her left cheek. Nothing major. Nothing serious. Hanging from Cassidy Lynn's white leather belt was an empty sword sheath, which was presumably just there for stylistic purposes. Her well-polished shoes click-clacked across the sidewalk as she moseyed on at her own little pace, and one got the feeling she could tap dance, kick ass, or casually stroll about with equal ease in them.

One got a lot of feelings about Cassidy Lynn-most of them contradicting the others.

Cassidy Lynn didn't feel like engaging any passerbys as she walked down the street, contemplating how she'd spend her night. This, of course, is a rare little insight into Cassidy's psyche that most normally wouldn't get-from her expressions, her mannerisms, you would think Cassidy had rigged her entire life's schedule from the get-go, set up to play out just the way she wanted. The idea that the Fox still wondered about where she was getting dinner each night would've been a bit of a surprise to those who kept up with her persona-which was admittedly a small number of people. Most didn't follow magicians these days as celebrities, but in a few more years, they might. Everybody loves magic tricks.

And if not, hey hey, Cassidy Lynn would just make 'em disappear.

Cassidy Lynn, enjoying to be abreast of current issues (supposing she couldn't be two steps ahead of them) listened softly to the passing conversations around her. A few snippets here and there could usually amount you with something substantive. Usually.

"I swear, man, I was just fuckin' going over to look at the thing and the car doors swing open and knock my ass down! Nobody was in the damn thing! Must've-"

"Yeah. Blood all over the damn place. Ever since their kind started comin' in Mendel, we've just had-"

"I dunno, but Skeleton is gonna lose his SHIT when he hears-"

Oooh. Murders. Grisly. Cassidy Lynn supposed it was that cute little Whisper, yes she was the killer. It was her in the dining room with the candlestick. Whistling some old showtune to herself, Cassidy Lynn turned the corner, figuring she could take a bit of a shortcut and get to the Club 76 a little faster. They had decent food. Of course, the clientele was usually a little annoying-see, people who mark themselves as good guys, more often than not, tend to mark you as a bad guy if you don't fall in with their ranks. Cassidy Lynn didn't really fall squarely into either camp. What do you call somebody who's just in it for the hell of it? Cassidy Lynn Daniels. That's what you call them.

Cassidy turned the corner and came to a slow, controlled stop. One of the more minor effects of her supreme reflexes was that Cassidy Lynn was never caught off-guard. Sure, she might've been surprised as hell inside, but she had the control to recover from her shock at such a level it didn't even look like she was. A trench-coated man and two teenagers were just passing one another a bag of ice when she turned around. Cassidy Lynn's eyes, masked behind her shades, blurred between the three. Trench coated man. Suit's got tiny little bulges in it. He's hiding a lot under there. Tattoos barely peeking out from underneath. Probably gang-affiliations. Kids are wearing pants that are way too baggy. Can't catch up to me if I run normally, but these shoes aren't good for running. And the trench coat's got a piece tucked in his belt.

"Get lost," the trench coat snarled, recovering more quickly than the two teens that were glancing around at each other with wide-eyed surprise and confusion. What, was this their first show? "You feel like telling anybody what you saw, you're not gonna feel anything below the neck."

A faux pout masked Cassidy Lynn's face. "This would be a shame. But I'm afraid I need to get past you. I've got a date."

There was a moment of stunned "is this bitch that fucking stupid" on the three of their faces, and the trench coat started to inch his hand towards his piece, trying to assess whether Cassidy was the least subtle undercover cop of all time or just a hopelessly stupid bystander.

Not stupid. Crazy. Crazy like a fox.

The moment his fingers curled around the butt of the revolver, Cassidy let her right hand fall to her side, half a deck of cards slipping out of the suit (and, curiously, the suit seemed tailored rather too tightly for a deck of cards to be hidden up in here, so how had she...) and into her open palm. This sped up the trench coat's draw, and he had the barrel of the gun just barely clear from the front of his pants when Cassidy Lynn made her move.

In about half a second, there had been a gunshot and all three of them were on the ground. A small pool of blood was soaking through the front of the gunman's pants-he had made the very grave mistake of keeping his finger on the trigger while drawing the gun. The others were clutching their eyes, and may need to borrow some of their mothers' makeup to hide the bruises by tomorrow morning. Cassidy calmly walked over and rolled the screaming trench coat over with her foot, very careful not to get any blood on her. Blood. Ick. She tugged the trench coat off of him-the man offered no resistance, rather preferring to curl in the fetal position and comfort himself with denial. Cassidy dragged the trench coat along with her for a minute or two, the drug-lined pockets bulging for a moment or two. When she'd turned the corner, the trench coat was gone, as were the playing cards, and Cassidy Lynn continued on her way to the Club 76. her trembling fingers the only betrayal of how much damned adrenaline was running through her body.

She could put on a good show if nothing else. Cassidy Lynn calmly strode into the bar and took a seat in the corner, alone from everyone else. The Vanguard wasn't really her crowd. She figured they'd clear out soon-if they cared about the gunshot outside, for one, and if whatever was going to piss Big Bad Skeleton off was their doing, she figured a little gang war might be on the horizon. Cassidy Lynn wanted to be somewhere nice and high like the 76 so she could have a great view of all the fireworks going off.

Cassidy took off her sunglasses, folded them up and placed them across the table from her, and leaned back into her seat, one leg folded over the other. Waiting for a server to come by was no problem at all. She could always play solitaire or something if she got really, really bored.

May

Coming soon

City of Gold OOC

Cruiser, I'm just gonna be brutally honest and express some concerns I have about your characters

1) Your character's powers have no weaknesses. Limitations are not weaknesses. For instance, "I cannot run for twenty hours straight". That is a limitation. "Every time I run, I develop hemophilia". That is a weakness. Your characters have limits to their powers, but given that they don't have flaws that are more vulnerable than a vanilla human it's hard to describe them as weakness. It seems like they can use their (rather strong) powers with zero consequences.

2) Where did Zac learn to become an expert in assassinations and knife fighting, neither of which are things you can really learn quickly or easily? I also have trouble believing, regardless of powers, that he managed to run a prison from the inside. Doesn't matter how good you are, you can't keep your guard up all the time, and gangs in prison generally tend to have some proficiency with killing other guys in prison. Beyond that, once they noticed this dude was involved with several gangs being straight up wiped out, and that he tattooed their signs on his body with each one, he'd probably get hauled in for something else/put in solitary.

3) I am generally leery of any sociopath character. I am not accusing you of doing so, but generally speaking, they tend to be an out for the RP'er to avoid developing character and to dodge personality weaknesses. I could roll with cold and harsh but sociopath, coupled with his unexplained proficiency at several different kinds of killing and his no-weaknesses power makes me leery. If I had to take down your character, how could I? Does he have any weak points? You yourself said

"He became feared throughout the institution for his seemingly uncounterable power,"

4) Not to be a dick, I really don't get his backstory. His uncle raised them to be good kids and then turned and rapes their mother? And then he stabs his uncle and burns his mother to death? I don't understand why he did this. Sociopaths don't do violent things for no reason. They don't feel remorse over them, but that's not the same as doing violent things for no reason. They're still aware of the consequences of their actions, they don't get off on killing like serial killers do. He seems more psychopathic than sociopathic...and if he'd do something with such brutal consequences as that without a second thought, I'm worried about what he's going to do in this RP. Will he murder one of my characters for no reason the first chance he gets?

5) Not to be a dick, again, but there is literally no way he could accomplish wiping himself from all known records like that. I also don't understand why he would do this. Again, sociopaths don't feel remorse but that doesn't mean they do super illegal stuff without a motive. Why does he go to all that effort, risk further incarceration (which, given that metahumans have existed for a considerable amount of time in this RP, I have trouble believing he could escape as effortlessly as he did, as guards would likely be aware of them and able to contain them) and death by doing all this. Killing people tends to piss MORE people off, and burning down a federal prison would probably piss the government off. No matter how good he is, the government has infinitely more manpower, resources, etc, and once they linked this long series of murders, arson, etc, to him, they'd have Marshals, anti-meta squads, cops, etc, hunting his ass at every turn. Disappearing would not be possible. And if he killed everyone that knew his name, why did he let that dude with connections to the Skulls live? Surely he doesn't care about one random guy that's a gang member at the time, given that he's wiped out all the other gang members in prison...?

Sorry if this comes off as rude or overly critical, I'm just somewhat concerned about this sort of character being in the RP.

City of Gold Character Storage Vault

Basic Information

Name: Cassidy Lynn Daniels
Nickname/Alias/Etc: Cass. The Fox. Little Miss Trickster.
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Height: 5’6
Weight: 125


Appearance

Hair Color: Dark brown hair with a streak of purple.
Eye Color: One eye blue. One eye green. No, wait. They’re both green. No, hold up, they’re both blue. What? She must be switching out contacts or something.
Ethnicity: Caucasian.
Physical Appearance:

Cassidy’s slender. Her arms, legs, and torso are all skinny, albeit this is normally masked a bit by her ensemble. She’s visibly quirky, a mischievous and mysterious smile almost constantly tugging at the ends of her thin pink lips. Cassidy normally stands upright, solid posture with a smooth, flowing gait. She moves like she’s floating, sounding as if she’s tiptoeing even in a full sprint. Cassidy’s voice matches her gait, as a matter of fact: there’s a faint hint of a Southern drawl to her words, but they’re otherwise sounding as if she’d practiced her off-the-cuff remarks in the mirror for hours before saying them. She has the voice of a storyteller or orator-she talks and you just kinda naturally listen, because her voice is easy on the ears.

Cassidy’s eyes. Hoo boy. I’m sure your first thought, upon seeing “one blue, one green” was that she’s a Mary Sue. Well, that’s not quite true. She’s like the mother of all Mary Sues. No, but really, Cassidy’s eyes seem to change in color in-between blinks at times, or in-between appearances. This phenomena’s subtle, and given that Cassidy likes to wear glasses, masks, etc, rather frequently, this effect often goes unnoticed. Especially as it’s never an outright change, from neon green to sky blue. Rather, she skips around between the shades in-between.

Cassidy’s wasn’t blessed with the hourglass figure that beauty magazines stress as the ideal form. There’s a slight curve from her modest chest to her skinny waist, but, well, to put it crudely, Sir Mix-A-Lot’s anaconda wouldn’t want none. Her face is almost diamond shape, with a rounded chin and a mess of hair concealing this trait a bit. Her hair is something that Cassidy loves to play with and mix up: frequently, she goes for the “hair draped over one eye” look, styling her bangs down and at an angle to cover one eye or the other. Her hair’s fairly short, but long enough to pull off stunts such as this. I don’t know enough about women’s hairstyles to go into much more depth here.

Attire:

S-to-the-tylish. Ya dig? Cassidy enjoys suits. These are normally purple or blue, with a collar tie that’s typically a little askew or a teensy bit too loose, tucked underneath the vest. Yeah I’m fucking up all these terms I don’t wear suits that often. Completing the ensemble is typically an inverness coat and a top hat. While her style may be a century and a half late, you can’t say it’s not there. Her clothing is eerily clean. Occasionally, depending on the look she’s going for, she’ll carry her sheath on her belt, but it’s usually empty. On her left cheek is a small, diagonal dueling scar. The angle at which it’s positioned gives her an appearance of having an almost perpetual upturned grin, like she’s constantly (playfully) smirking at some joke she’s listening to.



Personality


Outward & Innate Personality:

Cassidy Lynn is the one who, as a child, took those stories about the fox outwitting the lion a little too seriously. She’s a trickster, a schemer, a devious planner and, above all else, someone with a great sense of humor. Cassidy lives for the thrills of life, the adrenaline rushes and needless risks. She’s very clever-the sort of clever that could never find the time to do homework but always found time to think of silly questions. Cassidy loves a good challenge, a bet, or a mystery of any sort: problem solving, gambling, and adventuring all hold equal thrill to her. Cassidy’s the sort who’d want to fuck in the middle of a park with no concealment, at midnight, just for the risk of it. She’s got a bit of an impulsive streak, and while her from-the-seat-of-her-pants planning style often compensates for it, she can often find herself screwing herself over with dumb decisions or rash choices. Cassidy’s also one who’s hard to rattle. She has a very Zen philosophy on life, and merely seeks to have fun. It’s tough to get her riled up or concerned over too much-she has too much fun. For Cassidy, there’s a joke to be found anywhere, a riddle to be sifted through in even the bleakest tragedies. This can often alienate some, as she’s the sort to be giggling at a funeral or something similar. She’s kind, but not goes-out-of-her-way kind. Cassidy doesn’t get caught up very often in humanitarian causes and whatnot, but she’ll gladly do a performance-if it happens to help someone out, all the better, but she’s not out to save the world. Cassidy has a remarkable sense of humor and finds pranks or insults directed towards her more amusing than anything. She’s a big fan of pranks and general mischievousness and will likely, if left to her own devices, find some way to mildly annoy someone. This playful nature has kept her from really getting mired down in Mendel with any one faction: she’s a nomad, a wanderer. Once a town starts to bore her, she meanders on to the next town, performing and such for money. She’ll probably stay in Mendel for most of the RP, but she’d rather not get involved too much with anyone side-she’ll definitely want to sit back and watch the fireworks, annoying both sides equally, turning a profit, and laughing all the while. Cassidy Lynn thrives off the aura of mystery that surrounds her-both as an individual and as a small-scale celebrity. She enjoys being thought of as an enigma, keeping her motives, capabilities, and personal life private. A skilled liar, Cassidy will often fabricate different backstories for herself, different names, wildly inaccurate reasons for whatever she’s doing. Cassidy’s in it for the sheer fun of it.

Hobbies/Interests:

She loves solving puzzles, reading, movies, books, and work involving her hands or anything in front of a crowd.


Skills/Talents:

An excellent improviser, Cassidy’ extraordinarily quick on her feet and quick-witted. She’s an excellent liar, has a wonderful poker face, and has plenty of experience staying cool under pressure from years of performing. Cassidy’s also good at feeling out a crowd-or individuals-and adjusting her act as necessary to get the best results. Her power lends itself towards anything dexterity-based, and she’s also very good at detecting scams and lies, given her own experience with them. Cassidy’s also a superb fencer, and coupled with her reflexes, one of her combat-ready gifts is being able to lunge and parry her skinny little ass off.

Prized Possession:

Probably her entire ensemble? Cassidy’s a roamer, and doesn’t have a whole lot to her name. She does greatly prize her colichemarde, which is exquisitely made. Written on the blade, in lettering going down the sword (rather easily read if it was stabbed through you) reads “The Last Trick”

Quote(s):

A twinkle in her blue/green eye, a tip of the hat, and a subtle prankster’s grin suffice better than any quote I could put here.


Relationships

Family: None.
Lovers: A lady never kisses and tells.
Marital Status: Single? Taken? She’d rather keep it mysterious, just like most of her life.

Abilities

Power Class: Spatial
Power:

Cassidy Lynn is capable of warping reality. Now, this power is obviously very, very powerful, so I’m going to go ahead and assuage your fears and what its limitations are.

First and foremost, think of reality as having inertia. Time and space have momentum. The chair you are sitting in will stay a chair until something with sufficient force comes along and fucks it up sufficiently to make it not a chair. That’s physics, bitches. Subsequently, Cassidy has to exert a tremendous amount of energy to cause even minor changes in how something works. And, something something uncertainty principle something something Schrodinger’s cat something something, she’s able to achieve this more easily if there’s no direct observation.

Sleight of hand. Misdirection. Confusion. This is how Cassidy operates. Where she is weak, she feigns strength. No one’s quite sure of what she can do-if she’s a metahuman or merely a very skilled human magician.

In other words, Cassidy Lynn won’t be doing anything very drastic. Doing so would nearly cripple her. Reality also wants to return to normal: so if she changes something, it’s likely to change back to normal when she stops focusing on it. Distracting Cassidy or incapacitating her is a good way to fuck up her trickery. She does, however, have several practiced, got-‘em-down-cold forms of space-time warping that she can do easily and effectively. They are as follows.

Teleportation. Cassidy’s not Nightcrawler. She’s not poofing off half a mile away, or even doing chains of teleportation to make her impossible to hit. Rather, Cassidy employs a very direct, very short form of teleportation. Again, this is made easier if she’s not being directly observed. She only bends things a bit-she darts around a corner, and when you turn to follow, she’s halfway down the hall. She closes a door behind her, and when you barge in to follow, she’s back out in the hall. Small nudges. Nothing drastic. Anything beyond ten feet is outside of her capabilities. She can “double jump” of sorts, but it’s a strain. If she’s not being actively observed, this is much easier.

Conjuration. From nothing, something. This is primarily done in the form of rabbits from hats and doves from hats. Really, Cassidy doesn’t do too much else with this, although she’ll occasionally conjure up very minor things. Again, this takes significant practice and is quite the strain, even for small objects. Cassidy has rabbits and doves down cold, however. She can’t command them, but she can produce a decent number of the latter quickly. They normally last for a minute or so before fading away unless she actively focuses on it. Conjuration’s tricky, and it’s hard to make the objects last. The exception is if she’s conjuring something and swapping it out so to speak. For example, Cassidy’s playing poker, and she has four 2’s. She can change those to four aces with ease because swapping out playing cards is nothing. Swapping out those playing cards with hammerhead sharks would be very difficult and also ruin Tuesday Poker Night.

Sleight of hand. Unless anyone else claims it, I’m marking Cassidy as the top dog in terms of reflexes and grace. Her ability allows her to perceive reality more naturally, and as such she can see cause and effect coming a little more easily. This is nothing so drastic as precognition-but rather, once something has happened, she knows about it more quickly. Much more quickly. Cassidy’s hand-eye coordination and dexterity are superb. She’s quite sneaky. No drawback here-this is Cassidy’s one solid, combat-ready power.

Mirror Mirror. Cassidy’s power draws on the existence of other universes, and the malleability of the one she’s currently in. As a result, mirrors, those lovely little reminders of ourselves, offer a unique vantage point for Cassidy. When in front of a mirror, Cassidy is capable of jumping into it, becoming her reflection in the mirror. She can bounce in and out rather quickly, which makes her an absolute bitch to find in a house of mirrors, but most importantly, it seems to let her vanish into thin air…if the mirror is shattered, Cassidy is exorcised. Painfully. She also has to hold her breath and such while in the mirror.

Cards. Cassidy’s a beast with playing cards, both in terms of card tricks, card games, and throwing cards. While most people can’t throw cards accurately, and basically no one can use cards as a weapon, Cassidy’s capable of doing so. Her power lets her put a bit of oomph into her throws, and her reflexes let her throw them and place them accurately. She can toss a playing card and have it hit with the force of a medium-speed fastball. Nothing that would kill someone, or even come close, but she can pepper her enemies with painful strikes to buy herself time to get away. Playing cards are easily deflected by strong breezes or anyone who’s not a hemophiliac.

Pocket dimensions. Cassidy’s capable of tucking objects away into a hyperspace of sorts, and retrieving them. This process takes energy relative to the size of the object, so trying to disappear an entire car would be next to impossible. But someone’s car keys? Well, that wouldn’t be anything at all.(“ Perhaps check under the cushions, I’m sure they fell down there…”) Strong blows can disorient Cassidy and open up the pockets, resulting in (comically) things seeming to fall out of nowhere around her.


Other:

Could kick Houdini’s bitch ass to the curb.

City of Gold Character Storage Vault

Basic Information
The original sheet was deleted after an hour’s work. This is a half-assed, angry second attempt.


Name: May
Nickname/Alias/Etc: May is a nickname. She doesn’t remember her real name
Gender: Female
Age: Impossible to determine. Acts like a mid-to-late teenager.
Height: Her avatar’s height is 5 feet.
Weight: Her avatar’s weight is 118 pounds.
Faction: Whoever’s nicest.

Appearance

Hair Color: Naturally brown. Dyed blonde.
Eye Color: Blue
Ethnicity: Caucasian.
Physical Appearance:

A knockout, a bombshell, etc. She resembles an old 40s pin-up model, and has that vague sense about her that you’ve seen her before, but you just can’t put your finger on who she is. May’s hair is wavy and flows smoothly, meticulously conditioned and cared for. She’s white, with a slight tan and a curvy, well-endowed physique. She has ridden out the tsunami of puberty rather gracefully, and if she ever hit the “parts of me are growing much faster than other parts of me” phase of adolescence, she has long since matured past it. May really does look like a movie star-she seems to have that “glow” about her. I don’t often make very attractive characters, so I’m content coming right out and saying May’s stellar in the looks department. She seems to be able to turn the “glow” on or off at will. When it’s off, her hair seems to fall a little more naturally, she walks with a hint of a hunch, and her face is normally passive. When it’s on, she’s ramrod straight, hair falling perfectly into place, a stellar, practiced-in-the-mirror smile across her face, and it’s so dazzlingly white and genuinely gleeful you can’t help but grin back. Her face is devoid of acne or blemishes, likely due to the eternal vigilance of May with skin products of questionable origin and even more questionable results. She walks gracefully, like she’s floating on air, and whatever form she assumes has that same grace and glamour to it. May’s a knock-out. Not much more to it. May’s voice isn’t tinny or squeaky, it’s rather lower for a girl-not in a masculine or “butch” way, but rather...throaty. Husky, sort of. She’s

Attire:

Her default outfit is a number 5 Yankee’s jersey. it’s too big for her and it hands down to her knees. Under it, she wears shorts. She goes barefoot. This is her “normal” outfit: she often changes her clothes to reflect the situation she’s in. If her host is at a formal gala, she’s wearing a dress gown, etc, etc. To this end, her wardrobe and makeup is capable of changing drastically and instantaneously.




Personality

Outward & Innate Personality:

May is a lovely little bundle of psychological fuckery. She has a great many issues, foremost of which is severe, severe loneliness. May is desperate for interaction, approval, and friendship. To this end, she is willing to sacrifice anything to achieve it. This is May’s driving goal. She is a good girl. She is nice, genuinely sweet, and likes others. However, if someone truly fucked up came across her path, she’d turn that way in a heartbeat if it meant getting a sliver of affection. She is vain to this end, her natural appreciation for gorgeous aesthetics intensified by the desire to be perceived as beautiful, hoping it would boost people’s opinions of her. Losing her physical form only worsened this. To clarify: May is naturally nice, honest, and caring. She is capable of being cold and cruel very easily if she receives affection for it. May’s perception of the world and perception of herself has become warped by many, many years (May is never really clear on the passage of time, and doesn’t really seem aware of what year it is) of isolation, and she is hell-bent on keeping that from happening again. May up-plays her silliness and frivolity and downplays her intelligence and serious nature to try and garner more attention. She believes these traits are easily to get along with-that of a pretty-to-look-at bimbo rather than someone smart who, originally, didn’t give two fucks about makeup and hair. May’s got a love for retro things, whether it’s 40s showtunes or just old school jukeboxes and such. She’s extremely clingy but genuinely well-meaning.

Hobbies/Interests:

Old-school schtuff. Acting. Movies. Music. All of these things, May is extremely well-versed in.

Skills/Talents:

May’s clever, perceptive, and has a very hit-or-miss repertoire of knowledge.

Prized Possession:

Her black, 54 Thunderbird. It is in superb condition. Inside the trunk are objects she guards fiercely: a Carcano 31/98 rifle, a white dress, three gold rings, and a hypodermic needle.

Quote(s):

“Hey! Hey Hey hey! Please don’t go! Keep your hand on the car! That’s right, right there. You wanna go for a ride! ohmigosh does that sound creepy? Please don’t think I’m creepy. I just thought you know maybe you’d wanna go see a movie or something. A drive-in movie. Because I’m in the car. Like I’m inside the car itself not like I’m sitting in the car. Oh I didn’t even say my name! How silly. I’m May. What’s your name? Am I talking too much? I don’t mean to like ramble or anything. Please tell me if I do. If I’m annoying you I can just shut up. Do you want to listen to some music? I get a bunch of stations. Oh, we could go on a road trip! Right now! Me and you! Best buds! Forever!”
Abilities

Power Class: Other

Power:

Okay, what was originally a very in-depth explanation of May’s abilities was wiped away. So we’re doing this shit in bullet point form.

-May is no longer in possession of a physical body. She now exists as a soul: a detached consciousness that’s cable of possessing objects or items.
-May can be killed if the “vessel” she is in is destroyed. Outside of that, she’s effectively immortal.
-May, while within a vessel, is capable of controlling it. This only applies to non-living things. With permission, she can control living things.
-May is capable of greatly boosting whatever her vessel is. She can improve tremendously upon whatever/whoever she possesses, removing normal inhibitors and making it far more efficient and powerful. She’s able to micromanage the functions of whatever she’s in, down to the molecular level.
-May’s psyche suffers the strain of these activities. Moving out from one person’s sway to another causes her to suffer light amnesia and psychological strain. Using her abilities too hard will have similar results.
-May can only make changes with proper permission. As a result, she is restricted to a pure “spectator” position if her host doesn’t want her doing anything. Similarly, if the host wills her away, May will be pushed out of her host’s body and have to move into a vessel nearby.
-While May can greatly improve the properties of the object she’s in, May can’t fundamentally change that object. She may be able to make the Thunderbird crazy fast and ridiculously fuel efficient, but she can’t make it fly.

Other:

May occasionally seems to lapse into 40s and 50s jargon. No one who has ever encountered her was fooled into believing she was doing alright, mentally. May’s currently possessing a Thunderbird.

City of Gold OOC

I'll post my sheets soonish.