The Mad Hatter

Hope's Harbinger [Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy]

I am currently working on my race and although I am by no means an artist, I have made some sketches to show the appeance of the creatures. One of males (front, side and back view) and one of females (front, side and back view, too). I made close-up sketches of their eyes (both males and females), their tongues (they have split tongues), their teeth (really can't easily describe this one) and their ears (pointed, so yeah).
As I said, I am no artist, but you can tell what is what and all that.

Now, will I have to write desciptions of these things as well, or will the illustrations be enough? Same goes for other stuff I will be sketching later (aritfacts, ruins and such).

Hope's Harbinger [Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy]

Consider this a "Reservation" where my character will be posted.

.:EDIT:.

Namavaren Sketches

The Namavaren Race

Name:
Namavaran [nah-mah-vah-rahn]
Namavaren in plural [nah-mah-vah-een]
“[singular]A namavaran”, “[plural]Two namavaren”, “[the race]The namavaren race"

Average Lifespan:
Females live an average lifespan of 120 years.
Males live an average lifespan of 100 years.

Appearance:

Average Height:
Females have an average height of 5'2”.
Males have and average height of 5'8”

Average Weight:
Females have an average weight of 88 pounds.
Males have an average weight of 110 pounds.

Eye Color:
Females eye color varies between reds, pinks, purples and blues.
Males eye color varies between greens and yellows.

Hair Color:
Namavaren do not have “hair” in the typical sense. They have feathers.
Females have very colorful feathers, in yellows, greens, reds and blues.
Males have white feathers. As a rare occurrence, some have silvery feathers.

Skin Color:
Females have brownish, “tanned”, skin. Females have Yellow scales.
Males have light gray skin. Males have black scales.

Average Body Type:
Females are very small, very thin and very fragile looking. They have very protruding shoulders, hips and ribs, almost as if they are dangerously underfed. They tend to not have any “feminine shapes”, in the sense of bust and butt.
Males are not very large, either. They are, however, quite different in build. They have tight, almost see-through skin that stretches over developed muscle structure. These muscles are very lean, though, and they still give off a “thin” vibe, though not in the underfed section.

Physical Traits:
Females
-Rather small, colorfully feathered tail.
-Feathers instead of hair (“Bald Top”)
-Feathered lower arms (top).
-Feathered lower legs (outer side).
-Scaled lower legs.
-Very long, pointed ears.
-Split tongue.
-Weird teeth.
-”Angry Eyes”.
-”Bird” feet.

Males
-Rather small, half feathered – half scaled tail.
-Feathers instead of hair (“Feather Mohawk”).
-Feathers down spine.
-Feathered lower arms (top).
-Feathered lower legs (backside).
-Scaled legs.
-Scaled upper arms.
-Pointed ears.
-Enlonged canines.
-Split tongue.
-”Angry Eyes”.
-”Lizard” feet.

Society:
The World Before:

Intelligence:
Despite the fact that they live rather primitive lives, namavaren are by no means unintelligent. They are capable of planning their hunts like it was a game of chess and are great strategists. They do not believe in currency, jewels or trade. Gold and gems are nothing but shiny, useless things and they have no desire for it.
They have just as great comprehension of emotion as humans and are just as, if not more, empathic. They truly feel for one another and believe in all for one and one for all. They do, however, not have a “fight or flight” instinct, but will always fight if they are threatened, simply to eliminate the threat and protect others from potential harm.
Namavaren are quite literate, when it comes to writing. Many books have been written with the sharp, primal signs of the namavaren runes.

Languages:
Namavaren mainly speak namaneese. Most tribes are taught the human tongue, as well, simply for the ease of being able to speak to travelers.
The namaneese language is not as much words as they are noises. Females, in particular, have a hard time actually speaking, due to their tongues and teeth. It is not unusual for a namavaran to growl at threats, purr at their mates, hiss at unruly children or make meowing or barking noises as a form of conversation.
Namavaren rely greatly on body language, “tone” and aura to understand one another.
Namavaren have their own alphabet, or something of the sort, at least. It is vaguely reminiscent of the Viking Runes, but sharper and more “primal” in nature. Each rune has it own namaneese sound and anyone but a namavaran might as well give up before even trying to read it out loud.

Religion:
Namavaren do not believe in any God or Goddess in the sense that we usually think of a deity. They believe in a higher power, much like Gaia, Mother Nature or whatever you wish to call it. They worship nature as a deity in itself and will make sacrifices in the name of the earth. They call this deity of nature “Lrehe'Tphe” which roughly translates into “The Great One”.
Although “she” does not have a body and thus no face, namavaren villages usually have a shrine of some sort in “her” honor, made from pelts, furs, branches and rocks.

Living Arrangements:
Namavaren villages are quite the sight to see. They live only in mountainous areas with volcanic springs for them to hatch their young. They usually live in tribes of 15-30 namavaren and rarely have their huts more than a few feet apart.
The namavaren males build these huts and take care of the upkeep, as well. They are usually assembled from rocks and stones, coated with a cement-like substance made with saliva and volcanic dusts.
The huts are rarely anything fancy, though some males do go to extremes to please their females. They are usually a one room nest, made from furs, feathers and dried vegetation for soft and warm sleeping arrangements.
Namavaren usually live with their parents until they have found a mate, whereas the male will then build a hut.
Namavaren villages all have but a few fireplaces, for cooking their food. The males will craft “clay” bowls for them to cook their meat in and the more bowls there are, the more fireplaces there will be.

Mating and child caring:
Despite their small size and fragile build, namavaren females are very dominant by nature, whereas the males are actually quite docile. It is the natural order of their society that the females rule and the males just do as they are told. This does not, however, mean that the males are any less intelligent than the females.
As the dominant part of the mating process, the females are also the one who has to attract a mate, much like you will see a male bird doing during springtime. The males usually choose the females with the most colorful, or prettiest colored, feathers and the largest claws, as large claws mean they are better at hunting. The females will find the largest, most impressive prey to try and woo the male they have set out for.
During the mating process itself, the female is the dominant part and decide both how and when it happens. They have a stronger sexual drive than the males as well as a very strong “mothering instinct” that makes them want to breed.
After the mating, the parents go on as normal. If the mating was not successful and a child has not been conceived, they couple will try again and again, until they succeed. If successful, the mother will carry the child for little more than three months of “pregnancy” before laying an egg about the size of a human newborn.
The father is usually the one to care for the egg, as the mother is the one to go hunting. A namaraven egg does not require a lot of attention. Their “nests” are made in volcanic springs, where they are warm and cozy without any actual attention from the parents. The males are just around to keep them safe from scavengers. The eggs hatch about a year after they are laid.
After the eggs are hatched, both the mother and the father, as well as other, single, namavaren of this particular tribe, care for the child. The males play with them during the early morning and feed them meat riped in the volcanic springs. The females return from hunts in the early afternoon and will then play with the young while the males sleep. When night comes, the females will go to sleep and leave the young with the males once again, where the males feed them some more riped meat.
If the child is a female, it will join its mother for hunts once a week once it starts growing teeth. If it is male, it is taught the basics of keeping their villages primed and protected.

Male to Female Ratio:
An egg has an equal chance of becoming a male or a female, as long as their hatching requirements are met. If the proper requirements are not met, the egg will assume that the tribe is in need or danger and will become a female.

Eating Habits:
Namavaren are a carnivorous breed; they eat only meat and prefer it to be boiled.
An adult namavaran of average size and build will eat approximately their own weight three times a week. They eat once a day, just before nightfall.
Namavaren young eat twice a day and since their teeth has yet to grow, they are fed with riped meat; once in the morning, by their father, and once in the afternoon, by their mother.

The Weeping World:

Intelligence:
After the Worldbane, the namavaren had to change their way of life. They are still just as intelligent and their strategic skills are still far from average, but their entire idea of a self-sustaining community, and thus their disinterest in transaction and trade, has been eliminated.

Languages:
Although it is common knowledge that namavaren once had their own language, to spare the females from trying to actually speak, it does seem that the noises have been forgotten.
The males usually speak the human tongue and serve as translators for the females noises and body language in times where it is needed.

Religion:
Although they no longer remember the name they once had for their deity, namvaren still worship the might of the earth itself. They no longer build shrines or make sacrifices, but it is not uncommon for a namavaran to make a prayer to The Earth or swear in the name of Nature.
They see the Chasm of the Light and all of its deities as “Fake Gods” and will frown upon any who worships one of them.

Living Arrangements:
With their volcanic springs dried out and their volcanic dusts scattered by the wind, namavaren was left without a place to build their villages. As such, they followed the herds of other creatures that were now left without a home and settled down in the villages build upon the old cities.

Mating and child caring:
Since the Worldbane, the females of the namavaren race has become far less dominant. Although they still have their claws and teeth to make them excellent hunters, skills such as crafting and creation was far better skills to have in this new world and the males quickly took over.
Not many namavaren young are born, anymore. The females still have the stronger sexual drive and the instinct that urges them to breed, but the poor state of the world makes most females choose not to act on their instincts. They simply do not find a mate, because they do not wish to reproduce.
The females that do find a mate, usually tries to woo the males who are best at crafting, as these are the ones with the highest chance of success. Just like before, the males are attracted to the most colorful of the females and the ones with the biggest claws, as bigger claws means better preys. The females will still attempt to woo their preferred male by bringing them edible gifts, while the males, unlike before, tries to woo their preferred female with crafted gifts.
Although namavaren mate for life, it is no longer unusual for a male to have up to five females, as there are far more females than there are males, due to their far from optimal living conditions.
Once an egg has been laid, the mother usually sticks around to hatch it and abandon her duty of whatever job she has to care for the egg, in the hopes that it might be a male. The males will attempt to make elaborate nests for the eggs and females, to increase the chance of having a male.
After the egg has hatched, both parents will care for the young. The female will start “working” again, leaving the young with the male in the mornings and the male will care for the young while he works. When the mother returns in the afternoon, she, and any other females that the male might have, will care for the young while the male focuses on his work.
Once the young reaches a certain age, it will be integrated in the community. If it is a female, it will go with its mother for work and a male will go with its father.

Male to Female Ratio:
After the Worldbane, the volcanic springs, in which the namavaren hatched their eggs, dried out. With no place for them to hatch the eggs the way they used to, they now do it manually. Without the constant heat of the volcanic springs, the eggs, rightly, assume that their tribe is in need and will in far most of cases hatch as a female.

Eating Habits:
Though they are still carnivours, it seems that the namavaren no longer eat exclusively meat. They eat both meat and greens, as meat has become considerably harder to gain. Since they need to eat as much as they do to stay healthy, their diet had to be changed.
Namavaren young are still fed with only riped meat, which is kept in a jar of salted water.

KtharThre - Character Sheet

Name:
Kthar'Thre

Age:
Thirty years of age

Gender:
Male ♂

Nickname:
Names are a special thing to namavaren, as they believe that their names are destined to them by the force of nature itself. However, it is not unheard of for namavaren to be called by either “part” of their name.

Race:
Namavaren

Skills:
-Kthar'Thre is quite capable of handling a hammer and after years of crafting tools and weapons from hot metals, he has quite a bit of upper body strength to swing it with.
-As the only son of the only namavaren metalsmith in the area Kthar'Thre has had plenty to do at the shop ever since he was of age. This has made him quite the craftsman in the field.
-As per tradition in the namavaren society, it is the males that cook. The better a breakfast you can serve, the higher are your chances of landing a, or several, good female. Kthar'Thre's father made sure he knew how to cook a decent meal.
-With all the other kinds around, it has become necessity for the namavaren to wear clothing. It is a male's duty to keep his females and young clothed, so Kthar'Thre was taught how to sew, knit and crochet.
-Although it is a skill mostly taught only to the females, Kthar'Thre learned how to fare the wilderness properly from his half-sister's mother. She also taught him how to track, hunt and kill a prey, although he has never actually done such things.

Profession:
Metalsmith
A metalsmith is a craftsman that creates tools, weapons and/or pieces of art out of metals.
As the son of a metalsmith, Kthar'Thre did not have much choice than to become one himself once he came of age. He has had several opportunities to change his field of work since then, but he enjoys his job and plans on doing it for the rest of his life.

Religion:
Like most of his kin, Kthar'Thre worship the Earth itself. Although he is not a firm believer in the idea of a decided fate or destiny, he does believe that everything happens for a reason and tries to see the best in the worst.

Equipment:
-As per old tradition, from when the males guarded the village and young while the females were out hunting, all male namavaren carry a weapon on their person at almost all times. Kthar'Thre's weapon of choice is also his tool of trade; a hammer. It is, in fact, a large, sledgehammer-like war hammer, perfect for knocking down walls, shaping white-hot steel or smashing skulls and other bones to dust.
-Although some of the other races of the world find it hilarious that the namavaren males are the ones that carry purses, Kthar'Thre almost always has a satchel with oddities somewhere close by. It has some obvious necessities, such as a water flask, some bandages, a few pieces of dried meat and a small hunting knife. In this satchel, he also carries a sewing case, which is just a metal case with a few needles, some thread and a couple of patches.
-Obviously, Kthar'Thre has the clothes he is wearing with him. As namavaren were originally built to live in warm places near volcanoes, they tend to bundle up with lots of clothing when away from these warm areas.

Personality:
-Kthar'Thre is ever the optimist and will always try to see the silver lining in a situation, no matter how dark the skies may seem.
-Namavaren mate for life, have friends for life and they take care of those they care for. They are deeply loyal and will in most situations have no qualms at putting themselves in danger to keep others safe. Kthar'Thre is like this, too.
-Despite it being quite against his nature, Kthar'Thre is rather adventurous. Although tradition and instinct tell him to stay by his tribe and keep their village safe, Kthar'Thre dreams of a better world somewhere over the horizon.

Backstory:
It was during the spring, when Kthar'Thre's egg hatched. They say that namavaren have the best memories of all the humanoid species and although this is not a certain fact, Kthar'Thre remembers the day he burst through the dark shell that had kept him safe while he grew till he could fit no more. He remembers the overflow of sensations he was met with as soon as the darkness that had surrounded him for the past year shattered around him. He remembers the feeling of his mothers warm hands when she first picked him up and the smell of rotting meat that met him once he breathed in fresh air for the first time.

At least, he claims to remember.

He grew up alongside his sister, Mitcht'Lhre, and they were taught together for the ease of it. Their father, Muth'Phra, taught them the art of metal smithing, how to sew and how to cook, while Mitcht'Lhre's mother, Phrylch'Che, taught them how to survive, track and how to hunt.
The childhood of any namavaren is never to exciting, as they never leave their village and rarely even leave their hut. The most exciting to ever happen during Kthar'Thre's childhood, was the time Mitcht'Lhre had accidentally plucked a handful of his feathers.

Even his teenage years and his life as a young adult was boring. He never left the village, even though he dreamed of the green grasses over the horizon and the great adventures, like the ones in the books, that awaited before the destination. The travel to get there was far more exciting than the actual paradise, to him. But he never went. He never even [i]really wanted to.

By the time his father started pestering him to find a mate, Kthar'Thre had grow far more than just tired of his boring old life. He wanted excitement. His instincts told him to stay where he was; where it was safe and he could find a mate to reproduce with, but his heart told him that the paradise he had been dreaming of for so long was out there, waiting for him to find it. Would that not be far better than sticking to what he knew and never getting anywhere? Going out beyond the limits of his imagination and living the life that he s longed for? Finding a place where he could bring his mate and never have to worry about a thing? A place where safety was not gained, but something you simply had; where the females could easily bring home prey as big as themselves and volcanic springs for the eggs to hatch in. Just like the books.

Having made up his mind, Kthar'Thre informed his father of his decision. He gave a promise of returning to his village once he found paradise and set out on his journey, bringing nothing but the clothes on his back, his satchel of necessities and his weapon.[/i]

Additional Info:
Kthar'Thre's father, Muth'Phra had three females. Kthar'Thre's mother, Jehla'Vhre. Kthar'Thre's sister, Mitcht'Lhre,'s mother, Phrylch'Che. And one female that he was not successful at breeding an egg with, Krche'Mhu.
Jehla'Vhre, Kthar'Thre's mother, was the female with the largest claws in the village when Muth'Phra, Kthar'Thre's father, mated with her.
Mitcht'Lhre, Kthar'Thre's sister, is little over a year younger than Kthar'Thre.

The Ark: A New Dawn

Forced and rushed post is obviously forced and rushed. But it is there.

The Ark: A New Dawn

Planes were just about the most horrific thing that had ever been invented by mankind. If humans were supposed to fly, they would have wings, or something. Sitting in a giant steel box, thousands of feet off of the unrelenting ground that was just waiting for the plane to return to where it belonged, well, Owen did not like it one bit. It was not is first flight, though. The first time had been when he was sixteen. He had been going to Germany for a photo shoot. He had had to be doped up something terrible; he was freaking out that bad. Luckily, he was handling it better this time, with all the things running through his head.

He felt like he had been cheating. Being a model was all fine and dandy; he liked his job just fine and he was darned good at it. If he was only this handsome because of his abilities, well, it was cheating. It was worse than doping for professional athletes. Then again, it would not be cheating if he was just naturally handsome, right? Well, he was. He was just naturally able to change his looks to be handsome. Right? He could not exactly help having these abilities.

Owen scoffed at himself and shook his head lightly. Only he would be in a situation like this and still be thinking about his looks.

His mother had warned him about a hundred times that this might be a trap to capture him and his siblings. He had frozen up when she called them his siblings. He had always considered Emily his sibling, his sister, even through all of these mental accusations against his parents. He did not think of them as his “real” parents, but he had still thought of Emily as his sister. It was a little weird. His mother had gone on to warn him about these people that wanted his powers. He had told her that his powers were probably not all that great, compared to what the others might be able to do.

“Really?” his mother had said, looking at him with a look between disappointed and annoyed, “So you don't think that, say, taking the place of a government official is a nice trait to have. You could impersonate anyone perfectly, Owen.”

He could see her point in how his powers could be dangerous in the wrong hands. For the purpose of saving the world, though, they seemed pretty useless. What would he do? Morph into a little girl and start crying so the bad guys would feel bad for him? Yeah, right.

---

Ground, sweet ground! After finally returning to the surface of the planet, rather than hovering high above it, getting his luggage and retrieving his bike from cargo, Owen started by getting himself some overpriced airport food. He was starving. He had always eaten a lot and he only ate more when he was nervous or excited. He was kind of both, right now. After consuming his own weight in sandwiches and coffee, he was on his way.

Looking at the address at his hand helped just about as much as singing a carol would have; he had no clue how to get there. He was already straddling his bike, his birthday gift to himself the year before. He had three options in a situation like this. He could hop off of his bike and go ask someone for directions. He could drive around for hours, hoping to find the right place. Or he could call his mother. Asking for directions was out of the question. He had no idea who here was a good guy and who was not. He could risk putting both himself and his “siblings” in danger by talking to strangers. Calling his mother was a risk, too. She might come get him. Driving around for hours it was, then.

Surprisingly, it did not take him as long as expected to get to Malupo Industries. The fact that the e-mail had mentioned it to be the central of the place really helped. It only took him an hour, rather than several of them. His heart felt like it was attempting to break through his ribcage and onto the floor, though.

He parked his bike and took a deep breath. This could be his last moments. He could be captured, tortured and who knows what. It was best not to think of those things. Bad thoughts usually lead to bad actions, his father always said.

Once inside, he felt a bit more at ease. Everything looked normal. It looked sort of like the agency where he got all of his modeling jobs. There was a front desk and a receptionist and all. Actually, it looked more like the place his father worked than it did the agency.

“Uh, I...” he began as he stepped up to the reception desk, earning the attention of the man sitting there, who quirked a brow at him, “I'm here for... the job interview?” he almost questioned. It sounded wrong, to him. Did he remember it right? That was what he needed to say, right?

“State your name, please,” the receptionist all but ordered, though he sounded very bored with the whole thing.

“Owen,” he said, a little too fast so it came out sounding like a cough or something, “Uhh, Owen. Owen Bright, sir.”

The receptionist gave a curt nod, “Have a seat. Someone will be here for you in a moment.”

Owen just nodded dumbly, standing around for a moment before he actually went to sit. He sat at the edge of the seat, looking around worriedly. He wondered how many of the people passing through were his “siblings”. Some others were there for the Job Interview, too, so he guessed that they, at least, were. If it was a trap, it was a big one. Nice.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, but were probably just a few minutes, a man in a suit came up to him, “Right this way, sir,” he said and headed off, seemingly without giving a damn if Owen followed or not.

Owen headed after him quickly, probably looking like a lost puppy following the closest resemblance of safety it could find. They entered an elevator, where the man pushed the button to the twenty-third floor. They walked around a bit before they came to a seemingly random room, where the man stopped. There were lots of doors, here. And a lot of little machine-thingies that he had only seen in movies; they looked like fingerprint scanners. He silently wished that his mother was there to tell him.

“Place your finger on the scanner, sir,” the suited man instructed, gesturing towards the machine-thingy with a flick of his wrist.

Maybe they would steal his identity and make a non-super clone of him to take his place in the world and just dispose of him. Bad thoughts, bad. He pushed all bad thoughts away and silently placed a finger on the contraption; his face turned the other way and his eyes squeezed shut as if something terrible would happen.

Nothing did. The door simply opened.

Inside was a room. At the end of the room was another door. For a few moments, nothing happened. When something did happen, it was utterly anticlimactic. He did not even have to do anything; the door simply opened.

Looking back at his suited friend, he realized that he was supposed to go on on his own. The man was simply standing by the first door, waiting patiently for him to get the idea. When he seemingly did not, the man nodded and headed over to the second door, standing beside it.

“Right this way, sir,” he stated, gesturing to the open door next to him.

Owen wanted to roll his eyes and the dude for thinking he was an idiot. He did not, though. He just went through the door as he was told. The door clicked shut behind him. Now, if this was a setup or a trap, there were two doors, a maze of hallways, an elevator ride and another door between him and his bike. He had virtually no chance of escape and his odds were not very good from the start. He felt a little bit screwed.

“State your full name, please,” a female voice suddenly sounded over the speakers and Owen nearly jumped out of his good skin. In fact, he sort of did. He shrank a little bit, on instinct, as if trying to hide in plain sight. He always had been easy to startle, but he usually got angry in those situations. Right now, he was too freaked out to do anything, really.

“Owen!” he practically squeaked out, sounding like a scared little mouse, “I – Uhh, my name is … I mean...” he jumbled around, trying to catch his heart and put it back into his chest; metaphorically, of course.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “My name is Owen. Owen Bright,” he stated, “but before my parents named me, mom said I was Subject-087.”

The Ark: A New Dawn

The first time Owen Bright listened to the audio logs of Doctor Blackburn and the one entry by the Ghost, he was confused to the point where he was sure he had heard it all wrong. Super babies was just too far fetched for his brain to wrap around it. Him being one of them was downright ridiculous. He was nothing special, after all. He was a bit spoiled, he would admit that, but that was about it. And the thing with his hair; but growing out your hair could not possibly be considered “super-human”.

The second time he listened to the audio logs, he started thinking a bit more about his life. Had anything supernatural happened to him that he did just not think about? A few instances came to mind. Like that one time, during P.E., while they had been playing Dodgeball and Evan, that assholeish bully, had thrown the ball straight at his face. It had bounced off without any pain and just went straight back at Evan and hit him square on the nose. He had gotten a nose-bleed and Owen had been lectured about not aiming for the face.

The third time he heard the audio logs, he was really listening. Maybe his science classes were good for something anyways. He really wanted to try and understand. Had he learned of this Ark earlier, while it was still up and running, he and his friends would have been protesting outside. But it had shut down about the same time he was born. If he really was one of those super babies, it would mean that one of his parents were most likely some scientist person that had helped “make” him. His father could barely figure out how the stove worked, so he would put his money on his mother. She had always helped him with his homework, too.

The fourth time he listened, he started to realize what all of this meant. If he really was some super human, he would have to go and help with those enemies that the Ghost was talking about. Sure, she had said that he did not have to, but it sounded like when his mother said he did not have to help her do the dishes. He had a choice, but not going was a bad one and would mean he wound not be getting dessert.

The fifth time was the charm. He finally just sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and resigned to his fate. He would have to talk to his parents first, of course. If he presented them with this evidence and all that, they would have to tell him the truth. Maybe he would be able to learn something that the audio logs did not tell him; like what it was he could do. Yeah... He would definitely have to talk to his parents first.

---

It was a couple of hours after he had made up his mind. Dinner had been served, eaten and cleaned back up. It was just Owen and his parents, since Emily had long since moved out and found an apartment of her own. Owen was nervous, though. As much as he hated his parents sometimes, he loved them, too. He was not quite ready to lose them, yet and having them tell him that he was basically stolen from some government project was pretty much losing them.

“Mom..?” he finally mustered up the courage to all but whimper while they were watching some cooking show on the TV, just chilling after dinner.

His mother, Denise Bright, started at the sudden, utterly heartbreaking sound of her sons voice. She turned in her seat immediately and looked at him with wide, worried eyes, “What's the matter, baby? Does anything hurt?” was her immediate response.

Owen felt his heart break at the look on his mothers face. She was genuinely worried about him. He had never before doubted that his parents loved him. Why would he doubt it now? Even if they had stolen him and were not his biological parents, they had always been there for him. They had never treated him bad or done anything but love him like their own.

“Mom,” he began again, drawing in a shuttering, nervous breath. He could tell his mother was holding herself back from smothering him in worried hugs and kisses. “Mom, I got an email today. From a girl called Sarah Blackburn.”

His mother stiffened up at the mention of the girl's name. Her face went cold and her shoulders tensed. The very mention of her obviously scared her shitless.

“She told you, then?” was her clipped reply. Her expression did not change. She did not want to reveal anything.

Owen sank to try and relieve the lump that was forming in his throat. His mother was going to hate him after this, “In a way. She sent me a file that gave me access to some audio logs from the Ark. Most of what is going on has already been explained.”

“Good,” his father butted in with a calm, soft tone, “Then you understand that we took you in voluntarily, to protect you and give you a normal life?” he inquired with a lifted brow.

Owen nodded dully, his mouth dry as sandpaper. He really did understand. He was just scared, right?

“So...” his mother began, her voice a bit warmer, but laced with a tone of hurt, “What do you want to know? You have a reason for bringing this up, yes?”

“Yeah,” Owen said, not really thinking it through before he said it, “What can I do?”

---

After a long talk with his parents; his mother telling him about his supposed abilities and them telling him a bit more about what had happened back at the Ark and his mother trying to explain to him how it all worked, Owen went to bed with his head spinning with information. Well, he went to his room, anyways.

He was looking at himself in the mirror. He was a good looking guy, he decided to himself. He found himself wondering if he had made himself a good looking guy. Had he unconsciously molded himself into his image of what a good looking guy looked like? Was it the genes used for the project that were just naturally good looking, to ensure that the future super-humans would be attractive, or something. Maybe he had just gotten lucky.

He held up a hand in front of his face, so he could no longer see his reflection. What if he thought about looking different? Would his appearance change to match? He took a deep breath and held it, eyes shut tightly and lips pressed together into a thin line as he concentrated all that he could on trying to be someone else.

He felt nothing.

After a few moments of standing there, feeling silly for even trying, he opened his eyes back up. The sight that met him in the mirror made him jump a bit as he let out a startled squeak. He had breasts. Wide hips, breasts and long, dark hair. His eyes were no longer that powder blue color that they had (supposedly) always been, but a deep green. He reached out one of his thin-fingered hands, with the manicured nails and touched his own reflection gently. He looked just like Michelle. Michelle wearing his clothes, but he looked like her, nonetheless.

Something was not quite right, though. He was certain that Michelle's lips were not quite that plum and her breasts certainly were not that big. Her eyes were not as bright as his were and her hair was not that long. As he realized these things, they changed. It was not disgusting to look at, like Mystique from the X-Men movies or something. It simply changed. His lips shrank, his hair grew shorter, his breasts got smaller and so on, until he looked exactly like he imagined Michelle.

“Cool.”

---

“You're really going to go?” his mother asked him with worry etched into her every feature as she stood awkwardly in the door opening while he packed a few things into his duffel bag.

“Yeah...” was his distracted reply while he stuffed a few pairs of clean boxers into the bag. Neither he, nor his mother commented on the pink ones.

His mother sighed and ran a hand through her graying hair, pushing it out of her face, “There are so many others, dear, and so many of them with powers more fit for something like this.” she rationalized.

Owen stopped to turn and look at her with one brow raised and the other pushed down, “And what if they think like that, too? No one will go. Someone has to do something, so why not me? If what you said is true, I can't really get hurt, right? I reflect stuff, or something, right?”

“It's still dangerous,” his mother squeaked, “Even if you were immortal, I wouldn't want you to go.”

“I'm going, mom,” he deadpanned, shoving his favorite sweatshirt into his bag with a rather aggressive movement.

The conversation ended at that.

The Ark: A New Dawn

I think I should probably warn you in advance; I suck at first posts. I'm on my fifth attempt at giving it the right feel, but it just won't pice together right. Damned first posts...

.:EDIT:.
Nevermind that... My post was done faster than expected.

I give thee: Whispers in the Walls!

This reminds me of that old game, Corpse Party... Cool.

I guess it could get interesting.

The Ark: A New Dawn

I saw the first IC post was up and I was like:

The Ark: A New Dawn

Reaper said
I apologise for the lack of news or updates.. I've been grinding on World of Tanks and hanging out with friends the past few days.

IC post should up over the weekend!

@MadHatter: You, sir, are most appreciated. Have cookie.

Life comes first, of course.

Magnificent! We await your literary masterpiece with held breaths.

*elegant, respectful bow* Always of service, my Lady.

The Ark: A New Dawn

I made a list of accepted characters with links to their character sheets and the players profile for you:

Alma, The Professional played by Synthorian

Demetrius played by Callthecops

Jin Yensid played by Sage

Merlin and Arthur played by TheMasterNarrator

Owen Bright played by The Mad Hatter

Sarah Blackburn played by Reaper

(To see (and copy) the codes and such, click the "View Raw" option at the top right of the post)