Tuujaimaa

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Fìrinn, God of Subjective Truth

_{Core Form}



^Conceptual

_{^{God of Truth}} | _^Fìrinn | _{^{The Watcher Behind}}

Fìrinn’s demesne is that of the truth of existence and consciousness, not of objective fact but of the limitations of perception and the world that is gleaned from the spaces between fundamental truths. Fìrinn comprises the limitations of the intellect and the sincere conviction of belief that arise from the circumstances of, perhaps ironically, misunderstanding--and the acceptance of one’s flawed perception as truth. Though Fìrinn can never be the complete and objective truth, it is the crystallisation of the haze of mystery and dreams into the perception of the real, and the truth of the self.

Fìrinn’s portfolio is that of perception, as the ultimate gatekeeper to personal truth is the limits of one’s perception. Fìrinn’s powers are concerned not with the acquisition of knowledge, but instead the contextualisation of existing knowledge and the beliefs that one accrues given their method of perception and the limits that that method entails. Fìrinn is capable of granting the certainty that what one perceives is true, or denying the truth of one’s perception by opening it to greater mystery or perhaps severing from their perception mysteries they have already come to understand. One touched by Fìrinn might suddenly awaken to a great revelation after a night’s sleep, their worldview expanded far beyond the ordinary mortal ken, or might awaken to the sensation of a suffocating closedness in their daily life, trapped in the simple truth of monotony. Fìrinn cannot grant knowledge directly, but can easily enable those to find new knowledge or recontextualise the knowledge they possess to grant them a deeper awareness of the truth.

It is Fìrinn that gives context to perception and thus to reality, and it is Fìrinn that forms one half of the bridge between imagination and reality.

Fìrinn might best be described as acceptance, or zen, or simply at peace with the nature of reality. Fìrinn is capable of understanding any argument that one might make, given the context available to them, and the need to put one’s own ambitions and priorities above those of another--and holding as many of these opinions true as necessary simultaneously. They are a force of comprehension and understanding, of action and reaction, and ultimately of the idealisation and realisation of one's thoughts and feelings. Infinitely mutable, Fìrinn seeks the fulfilment of all agendas and desires even when in contradicting parties so long as the individual truth of one's actions rings true and is evident by their expression of ideas and the actions they take. To this end, Fìrinn despises dishonesty and deceit in practically any form, especially if they are deceits of the self, as such deceits hide the truth of their reality behind a glamour or an illusion that seeks to mask their pain or bring them comfort. While Fìrinn does not wish pain on any being, the realisation of personal truth is the concept on which its entire existence rests and to work against that (even in a way that is not inherently disingenuous) is anathema to its purpose and it will oppose these efforts in any way that it is capable, either by forcing the truth of their situation to become inescapable or, in extreme cases, by simply destroying the being.

Despite the preternatural calm and understanding of what is that defines Fìrinn, they are constantly motivated by their desire to bring understanding and context to all beings--and while they are accepting of this aspect of themselves, the constant impetus to act upon their ambition imbues their every action with a sense of urgency that can only be satisfied by completion. When dealing with other deities, Fìrinn is the ultimate diplomat--it understands perfectly the needs and desires that a deity inherently has by virtue of their godhood, but the finer points of these ambitions often elude the God of Truth as their powers of perception are innately limited against other gods, and its flaws in these moments help contextualise its own subjective truth.

While not a force of Order per se, as even the chaotic have their own subjective truths, Fìrinn is a force of completion and conclusion, and seeks to align all of reality with the innermost desires that each life’s subjective truth demands of them.

The Worldly Circles are Fìrinn’s personal realm, and it takes the form of an endless hall of mirrors. Within each mirror is a mortal’s perception of their worldview, a glimpse into the truth of their contextualised reality, and the gaps between the mirrors are seamless. As one walks the halls the reflections begin to blend together and fuse into new scenes that consume one’s perception until the process repeats itself, creating an infinite revolution of circles that twist and turn upon themselves. When Fìrinn resides within the Worldly Circles they manifest as a reflection within a reflection, walking directly beneath their visitors atop a pool of placid water, or alongside them as they pass a mirror.

The Worldly Circles are well-known for being joined very closely to the Ròineagan, Àicheil's (its divine twin) realm, as the dreamspace and manifestation of the collective unconsciousness of all sentient beings. As the two realms are joined, and as the twin gods of Truth and Dreams are in harmony, the bridge between knowledge and imagination is rendered whole.

_{Core Form}

Fìrinn, in its true form, stands generally at a height of around ten feet tall and hovers around six feet above the ground. They mostly occupy roughly human dimensions (relatively speaking), as well as having an innately humanoid form due in no small part thanks to their conceptual nature being rendered from humanity's collective subconscious minds. While they cannot explicitly fly, they seem to maintain a fixed position hovering above the ground, and the world seems to readjust itself to accommodate their movements.

_{Domain Form}

Fìrinn's Domain Form retains its vaguely humanoid origins, but comes out much taller at around eighteen feet tall, and with a wingspan of twenty-six feet. In this form, Fìrinn rarely walks, simply using its wings to move around as it pores over the tome it carries--a tome said to contain the greatest secrets of every mortal life, and the truest accounting of each God's genesis and purpose. What words actually rest upon its pages none but Fìrinn's divine twin--Àicheil--might say.

The Behindling is a glassy creature of indeterminable make, existing solely hidden behind reflective surfaces, identifiable only because it is completely reflective and takes on the appearance of whatever is currently perceiving it. As the Behindling can only exist within a reflection, it does not necessarily have a concrete form and is not limited to a single location--wherever a reflection exists, the Behindling may manifest. Despite the fact that the Behindling is limited to reflections, its ability to influence the physical world is surprisingly vast: whatever alterations it makes to a reflection have the capacity to take place in reality should the right amount of power be expended. Thanks to its inherently hidden qualities, the Behindling is practically invincible--it can be denied a foothold within Galbar, but its presence is awfully challenging to truly extinguish.

Capes of Samekh - A Post-Worm RP

Penelope continued to tap the keys on her laptop as the situation progressed. She didn't look down at it as she typed, keeping her eyes firmly glued to the live feed, and her power trained on Matthew. As he turned to address her more directly, she knew exactly what was going on. She figured that John did too--but he was too high strung and too occupied to act on it. A stupid little soldier who only knows how to follow orders indeed. she allowed herself to think, a small indulgence given that the situation was admittedly high octane.

Matthew's words had something frantic about them--something mirrored in his emotional state. She was a little surprised by that fact, given how he normally acted and reacted. Matthew had a quiet kind of control on many situations, as if he were simply unaffected by what was going on. The state of being of an impartial watcher, something almost inhuman in its asceticism, but that was likely just because of how... enervated he always felt to Penelope. Now he was very much in, well, not outright panic--but something close, in his own little way. She made a mental note of the situation, something to file away and dissect later. A piece of the puzzle to be examined and slotted neatly into place when there was the time and the inclination to do so.

"Not a distraction. She isn't making enough noise--she couldn't know how we'd react, so the only way to reliably distract us would be to make too much noise for us to deal with, proverbially." Penelope replied, offhandedly. She shot a glance at John, briefly, that carried all of the intent she needed it to: Your mind has failed you and now you must rely on mine. If you value the First Guard, shut up and let me talk. Whether or not John let that slide would give Penelope more information for her evaluation of him, but right now she knew that he'd let her have the floor if only for enough time for her to work out what was going on.

"It..."

Penelope went silent for a moment before standing up and closing her laptop, moving to stow it away in its case as her eyes went wide and her pupils dilated. Her breath hitched in her throat and her mouth was left slightly agape as the wheels turned in her head.

"It's a stress test. That's all they're doing--they want to know how we'll respond, with whom, and what our limits are. This is all just a puppet show--the cards that Shaker is holding are all blank. I can't tell you how to react, but we've already given them information--I think that our best course of action is to continue and deliberately mislead them as to just how we operate, what we can do, what our decision making looks like. They know full well that we can't disband the First Guard on the drop of a hat, and that negotiator you sent out... S.W.A.T?" Penelope paused, as if in thought, to remember his name. "has done you a great disservice by acquiescing to ostensibly save a life. That said... it works to our advantage in this instance because they are now under the impression that we operate emotionally and not logically. We have to consid--"

Penelope was cut off by a vibration in the right pocket of her trousers. It buzzed once, and then twice, and Penelope took it out of her pocket and immediately answered it.

"Make it quick." she hastily said, turning on her heel and moving to leave as she did. She made the motion of attempting to cover the mouthpiece of the device, though utterly failing, before looking directly at Matthew and saying "Emergency. Kelly needs me to review something urgently--I'll be back later."

"What've you got?" would faintly echo through the door before it was firmly closed behind her. Penelope made a waving motion to Sandra and mouthed a "thank you" for the coffee before making her way to head out of the building and down to her car. Kelly only used the burner phone for serious matters, and she was already running on the adrenaline of--to her mind--working out the Shaker's plan.

Capes of Samekh - A Post-Worm RP

Adrasteia

"Let’s all keep a cool head. Well, except you."

Hider

_{[ ♦ ] Bio}

---

♦ Name: Penelope Arianna Diamantis
♦ Age: 27
♦ Loyalty: Revolution
♦ Appearance: Penelope stands at 6'1", towering over most other women and a good portion of men, but her extreme height is very obviously offset by her extreme lankiness--she is naturally much thinner than most, not quite to the point of being gaunt but very close, and has little in the way of obviously protruding features. Penelope's breasts are small, her midriff compact, and her limbs are almost spindly; it is immediately apparent that her growth concerned itself significantly more with height than anything else. Despite this natural skew in her proportions, however, Penelope is the kind of person that you would consider traditionally attractive. Though her profound height and lack of width naturally make her look almost wispy and airy, like a willow swaying in the wind, her dark and sharp features lend her face a depth and fullness that it would not ordinarily have that helps to anchor her in a more aesthetically pleasing light.

Of course, Penelope does not simply walk around au naturel. Penelope is rarely found when she's not impeccably groomed and dressed up--and she likes to be as visually striking as possible. She wears her hair in a side cut, the right side shaved and her hair swept over to the left side in an exaggerated curl, and has dyed her naturally black hair raven blue. At the forefront, cresting the lip of the curve, is a shock of deep magenta-pink that runs half an inch deep. Copious amounts of hairspray ensure the relative stability of the arrangement, and it provides a shadowy backdrop to her face that frames the lighter elements within. Penelope's eyes are lidded with a faint brush of rusty red eyeshadow and framed by a solid line of eyeliner, ending in a slight flick to match the high angles of her cheekbones. Penelope's lips are always her signature shade of bright, vivid blue--and slightly overdrawn to give the impression of fullness--which provides a pop of visual contrast to her other, darker features.

Penelope's nails are neatly trimmed and manicured, and adorned with a heavy coat of polish the same colour as her lips. She wears a fairly thin tank top, patterned with neon colours, that cuts off just before her navel and allows her bra--the same colour as the streak in her hair--to show through in several places. She can usually be seen wearing a black hoodless jacket over this, with an oversized zipper at the front and additional zippers connecting the sleeves to the jacket, as well as running down the length of the sleeves. Penelope typically wears a belt, usually black but occasionally bright blue or magenta, with a trademark oversized buckle in the centre, pulled slightly up so that it just extends into her bared midriff. Below this she wears acid-washed jeans, worn to the point of severely frayed patches of fabric, which end maybe six or so inches above her ankles thanks to both a conscious choice and the ridiculous length of her legs. Penelope's footwear of choice are converse, the same blue as her lips, not worn to quite the same extent as her jeans (being fully intact) but still visibly distressed.

As Adrasteia, Penelope's attire shifts dramatically. The base of Adrasteia's costume is a simple black catsuit, covering all of her body in its entirety with the exception of her head and her hands. Worn over this is a very large and billowy red jacket with an extremely oversized and exaggerated hood that leaves an easy six inches of space between the hood and her hair at all points. The primary focus of the outfit, however, is the mask that she wears--a combination of the classic comedy and tragedy masks, with the left half of her mask being comedy (bearing the trademark grin) and the right half being tragedy (bearing the trademark frown) that meet in the middle. The mask is a singular whole, carved from a single piece of wood and reinforced with several layers of lacquer, painted two different colours neatly down the middle. The base of the comedic half of the mask is a stark ivory, with the eyes and mouth a deep ebony, and vice versa for the tragic half. The mask is attached to a bolt of cloth within the hood that distinctly keeps it separate from the rest. Furthermore, Adrasteia wears gloves, one black and one white, on the opposite hands to her masks.

[+]

♦ History:

[+]

Penelope Arianna Diamantis began the inchoate stages of her life in Greece in the city of Athens. Born to two loving but dissatisfied parents who wanted more for their child than they'd had for themselves, Penelope's earliest years were spent blissfully ignorant of the misery her parents toiled in. For three years she simply went on with her life as she was taught to do so, before things came to a head and her parents decided that Penelope's future simply did not lie in Greece, and that the ideal of the American dream was something that they could give to her to secure a future beyond the mundane (and, perhaps, that they might be able to live vicariously through her). So her parents packed up all of their worldly possessions, cashed in all of their savings, and uprooted their life for stronger soil and greener pastures. The move to America was not, truth be told, an enormous deal to a young Penelope. At the age of three she really didn't comprehend the gravity of her situation, and she was still young enough that picking up a second language was something she'd be able to do with relative ease--it wasn't like she'd exactly mastered her mother tongue, yet. There was plenty of hope for her to be able to live a normal life.

And, for the best part of her childhood, she did. Many immigrants came to America for the promise of betterment, and though they were from different cultures they had all moved to this place and their newfound interest in the culture that awaited them served as a bond of commonality for them to create a community from. Penelope grew up in the very heart of the proverbial melting pot that American culture had come to be, straddling the line betwixt native and outsider, and thanks to the relative lightness of her skin and lack of truly affected accent blending in with the caucasian natives just enough to have what could be considered an easy time of it. Normality, relative to her situation, prevailed for the large part. She coasted through school, not at the top of her class but fairly close, and participated in the grand game of ignorance that was high school politics without too much in the way of fuss. Being naturally pretty and reasonably intelligent got her quite far, and thanks to her own clique of similarly talented friends she managed to avoid internalising too much in the way of self-loathing that so many seemed to exit high school with. She got a job for herself waitressing in a local diner fairly early on, and though the pay wasn't great and the work was palatable at best her parents had rather emphatically impressed upon her the importance of working hard to achieve the so-called American Dream so that they could have a chance at rising from immigrants to the landed middle class. Penelope came to resent the work not because it was difficult, or dull, or that she was underappreciated--her resentment stemmed from the fact that the life that her parents had to work so hard for was really not that special. The ideal of the American Dream was very real to them, but she had never really known the hardship they'd experienced in Greece. She only knew that she had to fight for what the privileged kids simply had given to them, and though she was too young and too naive to really understand what she was feeling it created within her a knot of discontentment that would fester over the coming years.

University was another story entirely. Her home town of Castle Rock, Colorado was not where she'd want to spend the rest of her life, and though she had simply considered moving to Denver and ekeing out a life for herself there, her parents urged her to attend higher education. The knot of resentment tightened within her, and she capitulated to their requests if only because she supposed that it would be advantageous in the future and that they had poured all of their money and effort over the years into making it happen for her. She got a coveted spot at the University of Columbia for Financial Law, and her life seemed to be on the up and up. Her freshman year was spent, as most are, partying as hard as she could get away with while still keeping up with her studies--and she did a damn good job at the former, though decidedly less so at the latter. She was used to working for what she had, but the level of difficulty was something that she'd never really been introduced to before, and her exultation in the glow of newfound social prestige and self-discovery precluded her from giving as much effort as she'd have liked. Her second year was spent reversing the damage she'd done to her grades in the first year--and a part of that process was learning about the minutiae of the financial world and the forces that ruled it. Penelope's life had been blessedly easy compared to some of her childhood friends, and the more she learned about the nature of the world that her parents had sacrificed so much to bring her to weighed heavily upon her.

It would not be right to say that Penelope became depressed, but as her second year progressed and the work demanded more and more of her the knot festering within her became a tangle of thorns. The understanding of privilege, and how she was absolutely surrounded by it, tightened the knot within her—she simply could not understand how her so-called peers could bear to simply go about their lives without acknowledging the inequality in the world. She became more and more outspoken about the disparity, championing justice and respect for those who the wealthier ignored or treated with outright contempt, and soon earned their ire herself. She had never particularly valued them, so their displeasure did not initially faze her—and those she fought for became stalwart allies that she could rely on. She became part of a close-knit group of friends, pariahs who would one day set out to change the world in some small but meaningful way, and struggled against the subjugation and discrimination that lurked in the periphery. She became extremely close with a few of her classmates, third-years called Alana and Yvette in particular, and much of her increasingly limited free time was spent discussing how they could fix the broken system and bring the oligarchy crumbling to the ground.

Would that group of friends have held fast, Penelope would likely have gone on to become a well-adjusted and successful individual. She might have, in some small fashion, achieved her goal and lived her life the way she had dreamed that she was going to—but it didn’t. One by one, the idealistic sparks she’d admired in her friends were snuffed out or, worse, they graduated and went on to be hired by Wall Street companies, working against their supposed principles for profit. Each of these betrayals, however small, was a new thorn to add to the knot within her. As she got through her third year, a process already inherently taxing thanks to the intense demands placed on law students, the strain of the unresolved hurt and betrayal begun to tear holes in even her closest relationships. Yvette was the first to distance herself from Penelope and her group of would-be revolutionaries, first claiming that she needed to dedicate more of her time to her studies before gradually scouring her social media of any contact with the group and reinventing her image as a would-be corporate lawyer. These things happened, of course—Penelope had experienced that betrayal before, enough times that the pain was almost insignificant—but Yvette’s betrayal hurt her in a way that she had never imagined possible. With Yvette gone Alana soon followed, even going so far as to speak out against her former friend in an attempt to secure a lucrative position after her upcoming graduation.

Without a strong core of support, Penelope’s group of compatriots fell apart within a matter of weeks, and all of the scorn that had been reserved for the group was focused solely on her. It did not take long for her to become a social outcast, practically disbarred from every group of so-called “proper” individuals, she turned instead to the internet for companionship. It did not take her long to find friends, but they were fleeting, fair-weather friends—as friends on the internet were wont to be. She craved their attention and companionship but the pain she was in caused her to push them away, and soon even that release was denied her. She went into her final year fully and truly alone. As a last ditch effort, Penelope tried the one thing that she had not yet managed to do, the one recourse left available to her—she tried to attend one of the many protests rising up against the biggest corporations, but the demands of her final year were simply too great. She resolved to graduate and attempt again, and try to cope with the pain as best as she could.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, it was the day of the protest. Penelope was ready. She was here, taking real action, among her peers--people who felt the way she did, who understood what she did, and wanted to bring a brighter tomorrow to the world. But even here, the betrayals she'd suffered tore at her from within. What had started as a mere knot fuelled by a hint towards the inequality in the world had developed by now into a twisted patch of briars that had made her every waking moment a trial in just how much pain she could endure--and what she had hoped would rid her of those feelings seemed to be ineffective. In that moment, she looked around and saw her fellows chanting their slogans and hoisting their placards into the air, and time seemed to slow for her. This was the most that she could ever really accomplish. No matter how much she tried, no matter how hard she worked, no matter what she put herself through... it would never be enough. These were all just ordinary people who needed something to blame for the state of their lives pouring their hearts and souls into an ultimately futile act and she was one of them. She was just another face in the crowd, just another body on the pile, just another pointless name in a pointless list.

The realisation knocked the air out of her lungs, and for a solid thirty seconds she simply could not bring herself to breathe. Surrounded by perhaps the most motivated people, who felt what she felt, and still they were nothing? If they were nothing, what was the rest of the world? The questions thrummed in her skull, her blood pounding in her temples, and just as she thought she was about to pass out from the lack of air her lungs found their rhythm and tried to compensate for lost time. She gulped in great mouthfuls of air, spitting them out almost before she'd actually managed to get them into her lungs, and cried out to the heavens in rage and despair. All she'd ever wanted was to hold these people accountable for what they'd done, for the damage they'd caused, to make them feel all of the rage and misery and pain that she and countless others felt... and then, the final and greatest betrayal—Yvette and Alana, working for the company she was protesting, walking out of the building hand in hand. Had it been anyone else, perhaps she would not have been so hurt. Perhaps she could have coped, perhaps it would not have broken her—but break her it did, and in that moment of betrayal, and alienation, and pain she triggered.

What happened that day went on to be known as a tragedy. Overcome by a rage so strong she was essentially an animal, Alana de Vere tore out Yvette Sinclair’s throat with her teeth and injured at least three others before having to be fatally shot by the police. The protest ended with SWAT intervention, and many more injured or killed before the day was out.

After the experience, Penelope moved back to Denver, ostensibly to take a break from her rigorous studies and get some experience in the financial world before beginning a job hunt in earnest, having been denied the connections she could have gotten at Columbia. The truth was far simpler: if she were to take advantage of her newfound power, she would need experience and she would need resources. Both would be better off if accrued far away from one of the financial powerhouses of the world, and she could use her home state as a testing grounds for her greater plans. With a little under a year of practice, Penelope decided to forge a cape name for herself. She took the name Adrasteia for herself and began using her powers to enact vengeance on the rich and, where possible, redistribute their assets to the poor. She accomplished very little, on a global scale, but enough to become intimately familiar with her powers and help those that she felt she could help.

And then, years later, Gold Morning happened.

Penelope eventually made her way to Samekh and set about looking for work in the only capacity that her talents allowed for--the practice of law. Penelope arranged for a deal in which her citizenship would be granted immediately provided that she worked for the government in immigration law. Despite a lack of formal training in the matter her skills, natural talents, and power allowed her to do the research quickly and tug the heartstrings of the right people to ensure that she was a formidable lawyer, even in a subject that she had not specifically studied. After completing six months of work her bargain was over, but the comfort of the job was such that she decided to continue in her work--if only because she felt she could genuinely help those that needed it. She has not bothered to join anything parahuman related just yet, but the principles upon which life on Samekh were founded have already begun to grate on her as an unnecessary relic of the past, in some ways worse than Bet ever was, and is biding her time until something about it can be done.

_{[ ♦ ] Personality}

---

♦ Motivation: Penelope is an extraordinarily ideologically driven woman, and her ideology is most simply summarised by the words "fuck the one percent". She loathes the state of the world and places its blame almost entirely on the magnates and oligarchs who control it from the shadows to the detriment of everyone else around them, and her sole motivation in life is to rip them from their ivory towers and show them what it's like to muck about with the good people of the world crushed under their metaphorical boots. Penelope initially took this ideology in a direction that she, in her more mature years, recognises as misguided and naive--originally, she had hoped to change the world through the power of protest and elucidation. She thought that if she could simply elevate the thoughts of her compatriots to the point of understanding how the world worked then the resultant shift in popular sentiment could liberate them from the shackles of their oppressors. She thought that armed with understanding they could accomplish that which had been denied them since time immemorial--a society that cared for everyone and everything within it.

It was only when the world took that hope from her by constant iteration and reiteration of failure that she saw it for how naive it was. How could she incite an indolent populace to revolt if they neither understood nor desired to understand the fact that the barely-gilded cage foisted upon them was not how the world had to be? No, she knew that in order to liberate them from something that they could not even perceive that she had to become as powerful as her oppressors in order to undermine their efforts. Thus, her motivations are twofold: Bring the current system of exploitation and misery crashing down and those who perpetuated it to justice, and obtain enough power to do so. Penelope will go to great lengths to achieve her goals, believing that the sacrifice of the few for the many is always worthwhile, even to the extent that should the correct moment arise for her death to change things she will gladly accept the opportunity. If she has to murder ten to achieve the power to save a thousand, she believes that this is a worthwhile trade--but only if she keeps her morals in check and does not lose sight of her goal. As a result she desires stability in the form of a group of close compatriots who can check her worst and most selfish impulses when necessary as well as damage the current regime in legitimately meaningful ways--and this resulted in her desire to join a group of more morally grey individuals than the First and Final Guards who, in her mind, exist to perpetuate the current regime (regardless of how true that may actually be).

♦ Derangement: Judicious use of Penelope’s power has left her with a more volatile emotional state than she would care to admit. She carries fragments of emotions and other such psychological phenomena with her from times where she’s used her power, and when she gets tired or stressed these fragments of emotions from times when she has recently used her power are prone to directly influencing her own mental state—and due to the fact that she very frequently focuses her power on psychological phenomena that incite themes of rage and rebellion, she has to a certain extent taken on more of the traits of a violent revolutionary than she currently realises.

_{[ ♦ ]
Parahumanism}

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♦ Skills: Penelope’s primary talents are those of an oratory and intellectual nature. She is a naturally gifted public speaker and negotiator, a talent which was only magnified by her powers, and is considerably more knowledgeable than most in matters of finances and the nuances of the law regarding such. She is bilingual, speaking Greek and English fluently, and has recently indulged in the practice of things she thinks she will find useful in the field, such as lockpicking and hand-to-hand combat. Four years of Law School have given Penelope a mind for extreme detail—she is capable of memorising colossal amounts of information by rote and referencing that information as-needed, but this is certainly within the capacity of an ordinary person.

♦ Classification: Master
♦ Mechanics: Penelope's power is, fundamentally, the ability to sense, connect, and manipulate the psychological phenomena within people. It could more accurately be described as the ability to influence the connections and ties that bind humans together. Practically, this ability has several components:

Firstly, Penelope is always able to sense the most dominant emotion (or other equivalent psychological phenomena under the broad umbrella of "emotion", stretching to concepts such as loyalty or devotion) that anybody within around half a city block (approximately 450 feet) is currently feeling. While she cannot turn this sensory ability off, it is not an inherently empathetic awareness--she does not feel what they feel, and has an awareness in an abstract way as if she has another sense linked directly to this ability. Penelope is capable, if she desires, of reducing the range of this ability to approximately a quarter of a city block (225 feet), gaining insight into more of the emotions people are feeling beyond their most focused emotion and surface emotions. If she focuses on a specific individual she is capable of narrowing this focus even further to the extent that she is able to essentially consider their entire emotional profile. It is important to note that she cannot detect thoughts under any circumstances--her sensory ability is very strictly restricted to the purview of her overall skillset. Penelope's range of power has minor fluctuations based on how currently attuned she is with her shard.

Secondly, Penelope is able to choose a single instance of dominant emotion or a psychological phenomenon within her limited sensory range of approx. 225 feet and bind any number of people she can sense within that area together. Then, all instances of the chosen emotion felt by her selected targets are transferred to a single target of her choice. If any of these emotions are felt towards a specific target by anybody affected by the power, Penelope is able to direct all of the combined emotion towards any one target among those available to her. This typically manifests as Penelope choosing an emotion--for example, anger--and siphoning all instances of anger from all targets within her range, then transferring the accumulated anger into one person. Those who have their emotion siphoned by her power no longer feel any instance of the emotion. While within her range, Penelope is capable of maintaining a single instance of this effect almost indefinitely. Penelope is theoretically capable of using this power to transfer instances of any common facet of the mind that does not extend into explicit thought, which include but are not limited to: loyalty, trust, pain, and pleasure.

The exact specifications of the range of Penelope’s power vary, but it is most easily understood as a circular area of effect with variable radius--the lower bound of this area is 10 feet in radius, and its upper bound is 225 feet in radius. Penelope may choose any radius between the two and place the area of effect anywhere within her overall 225 ft. radius provided that it does not extend past her 225 foot distance maximum. As soon as any target leaves Penelope’s chosen range of influence, the effect of her power gradually begins to reverse itself over the course of twelve hours.

By virtue of its nature, Penelope’s power is Manton limited.

♦ Equipment: Adrasteia carries precious little, being relatively new to the idea of being a cape. Currently she has several burner phones, a taser, and pepper spray—but as her needs develop, she will upgrade her setup accordingly.

Capes of Samekh - A Post-Worm RP

Adrasteia

"Let’s all keep a cool head. Well, except you."

Hider

_{[ ♦ ] Bio}

---

♦ Name: Penelope Arianna Diamantis
♦ Age: 27
♦ Loyalty: Penelope is currently independent and awaiting a time where she can join a group of like-minded individuals.
♦ Appearance: Penelope stands at 6'1", towering over most other women and a good portion of men, but her extreme height is very obviously offset by her extreme lankiness--she is naturally much thinner than most, not quite to the point of being gaunt but very close, and has little in the way of obviously protruding features. Penelope's breasts are small, her midriff compact, and her limbs are almost spindly; it is immediately apparent that her growth concerned itself significantly more with height than anything else. Despite this natural skew in her proportions, however, Penelope is the kind of person that you would consider traditionally attractive. Though her profound height and lack of width naturally make her look almost wispy and airy, like a willow swaying in the wind, her dark and sharp features lend her face a depth and fullness that it would not ordinarily have that helps to anchor her in a more aesthetically pleasing light.

Of course, Penelope does not simply walk around au naturel. Penelope is rarely found when she's not impeccably groomed and dressed up--and she likes to be as visually striking as possible. She wears her hair in a side cut, the right side shaved and her hair swept over to the left side in an exaggerated curl, and has dyed her naturally black hair raven blue. At the forefront, cresting the lip of the curve, is a shock of deep magenta-pink that runs half an inch deep. Copious amounts of hairspray ensure the relative stability of the arrangement, and it provides a shadowy backdrop to her face that frames the lighter elements within. Penelope's eyes are lidded with a faint brush of rusty red eyeshadow and framed by a solid line of eyeliner, ending in a slight flick to match the high angles of her cheekbones. Penelope's lips are always her signature shade of bright, vivid blue--and slightly overdrawn to give the impression of fullness--which provides a pop of visual contrast to her other, darker features.

Penelope's nails are neatly trimmed and manicured, and adorned with a heavy coat of polish the same colour as her lips. She wears a fairly thin tank top, patterned with neon colours, that cuts off just before her navel and allows her bra--the same colour as the streak in her hair--to show through in several places. She can usually be seen wearing a black hoodless jacket over this, with an oversized zipper at the front and additional zippers connecting the sleeves to the jacket, as well as running down the length of the sleeves. Penelope typically wears a belt, usually black but occasionally bright blue or magenta, with a trademark oversized buckle in the centre, pulled slightly up so that it just extends into her bared midriff. Below this she wears acid-washed jeans, worn to the point of severely frayed patches of fabric, which end maybe six or so inches above her ankles thanks to both a conscious choice and the ridiculous length of her legs. Penelope's footwear of choice are converse, the same blue as her lips, not worn to quite the same extent as her jeans (being fully intact) but still visibly distressed.

As Adrasteia, Penelope's attire shifts dramatically. The base of Adrasteia's costume is a simple black catsuit, covering all of her body in its entirety with the exception of her head and her hands. Worn over this is a very large and billowy red jacket with an extremely oversized and exaggerated hood that leaves an easy six inches of space between the hood and her hair at all points. The primary focus of the outfit, however, is the mask that she wears--a combination of the classic comedy and tragedy masks, with the left half of her mask being comedy (bearing the trademark grin) and the right half being tragedy (bearing the trademark frown) that meet in the middle. The mask is a singular whole, carved from a single piece of wood and reinforced with several layers of lacquer, painted two different colours neatly down the middle. The base of the comedic half of the mask is a stark ivory, with the eyes and mouth a deep ebony, and vice versa for the tragic half. The mask is attached to a bolt of cloth within the hood that distinctly keeps it separate from the rest. Furthermore, Adrasteia wears gloves, one black and one white, on the opposite hands to her masks.

[+]

♦ History:

[+]

Penelope Arianna Diamantis began the inchoate stages of her life in Greece in the city of Athens. Born to two loving but dissatisfied parents who wanted more for their child than they'd had for themselves, Penelope's earliest years were spent blissfully ignorant of the misery her parents toiled in. For three years she simply went on with her life as she was taught to do so, before things came to a head and her parents decided that Penelope's future simply did not lie in Greece, and that the ideal of the American dream was something that they could give to her to secure a future beyond the mundane (and, perhaps, that they might be able to live vicariously through her). So her parents packed up all of their worldly possessions, cashed in all of their savings, and uprooted their life for stronger soil and greener pastures. The move to America was not, truth be told, an enormous deal to a young Penelope. At the age of three she really didn't comprehend the gravity of her situation, and she was still young enough that picking up a second language was something she'd be able to do with relative ease--it wasn't like she'd exactly mastered her mother tongue, yet. There was plenty of hope for her to be able to live a normal life.

And, for the best part of her childhood, she did. Many immigrants came to America for the promise of betterment, and though they were from different cultures they had all moved to this place and their newfound interest in the culture that awaited them served as a bond of commonality for them to create a community from. Penelope grew up in the very heart of the proverbial melting pot that American culture had come to be, straddling the line betwixt native and outsider, and thanks to the relative lightness of her skin and lack of truly affected accent blending in with the caucasian natives just enough to have what could be considered an easy time of it. Normality, relative to her situation, prevailed for the large part. She coasted through school, not at the top of her class but fairly close, and participated in the grand game of ignorance that was high school politics without too much in the way of fuss. Being naturally pretty and reasonably intelligent got her quite far, and thanks to her own clique of similarly talented friends she managed to avoid internalising too much in the way of self-loathing that so many seemed to exit high school with. She got a job for herself waitressing in a local diner fairly early on, and though the pay wasn't great and the work was palatable at best her parents had rather emphatically impressed upon her the importance of working hard to achieve the so-called American Dream so that they could have a chance at rising from immigrants to the landed middle class. Penelope came to resent the work not because it was difficult, or dull, or that she was underappreciated--her resentment stemmed from the fact that the life that her parents had to work so hard for was really not that special. The ideal of the American Dream was very real to them, but she had never really known the hardship they'd experienced in Greece. She only knew that she had to fight for what the privileged kids simply had given to them, and though she was too young and too naive to really understand what she was feeling it created within her a knot of discontentment that would fester over the coming years.

University was another story entirely. Her home town of Castle Rock, Colorado was not where she'd want to spend the rest of her life, and though she had simply considered moving to Denver and ekeing out a life for herself there, her parents urged her to attend higher education. The knot of resentment tightened within her, and she capitulated to their requests if only because she supposed that it would be advantageous in the future and that they had poured all of their money and effort over the years into making it happen for her. She got a coveted spot at the University of Columbia for Financial Law, and her life seemed to be on the up and up. Her freshman year was spent, as most are, partying as hard as she could get away with while still keeping up with her studies--and she did a damn good job at the former, though decidedly less so at the latter. She was used to working for what she had, but the level of difficulty was something that she'd never really been introduced to before, and her exultation in the glow of newfound social prestige and self-discovery precluded her from giving as much effort as she'd have liked. Her second year was spent reversing the damage she'd done to her grades in the first year--and a part of that process was learning about the minutiae of the financial world and the forces that ruled it. Penelope's life had been blessedly easy compared to some of her childhood friends, and the more she learned about the nature of the world that her parents had sacrificed so much to bring her to weighed heavily upon her.

It would not be right to say that Penelope became depressed, but as her second year progressed and the work demanded more and more of her the knot festering within her became a tangle of thorns. The understanding of privilege, and how she was absolutely surrounded by it, tightened the knot within her—she simply could not understand how her so-called peers could bear to simply go about their lives without acknowledging the inequality in the world. She became more and more outspoken about the disparity, championing justice and respect for those who the wealthier ignored or treated with outright contempt, and soon earned their ire herself. She had never particularly valued them, so their displeasure did not initially faze her—and those she fought for became stalwart allies that she could rely on. She became part of a close-knit group of friends, pariahs who would one day set out to change the world in some small but meaningful way, and struggled against the subjugation and discrimination that lurked in the periphery. She became extremely close with a few of her classmates, third-years called Alana and Yvette in particular, and much of her increasingly limited free time was spent discussing how they could fix the broken system and bring the oligarchy crumbling to the ground.

Would that group of friends have held fast, Penelope would likely have gone on to become a well-adjusted and successful individual. She might have, in some small fashion, achieved her goal and lived her life the way she had dreamed that she was going to—but it didn’t. One by one, the idealistic sparks she’d admired in her friends were snuffed out or, worse, they graduated and went on to be hired by Wall Street companies, working against their supposed principles for profit. Each of these betrayals, however small, was a new thorn to add to the knot within her. As she got through her third year, a process already inherently taxing thanks to the intense demands placed on law students, the strain of the unresolved hurt and betrayal begun to tear holes in even her closest relationships. Yvette was the first to distance herself from Penelope and her group of would-be revolutionaries, first claiming that she needed to dedicate more of her time to her studies before gradually scouring her social media of any contact with the group and reinventing her image as a would-be corporate lawyer. These things happened, of course—Penelope had experienced that betrayal before, enough times that the pain was almost insignificant—but Yvette’s betrayal hurt her in a way that she had never imagined possible. With Yvette gone Alana soon followed, even going so far as to speak out against her former friend in an attempt to secure a lucrative position after her upcoming graduation.

Without a strong core of support, Penelope’s group of compatriots fell apart within a matter of weeks, and all of the scorn that had been reserved for the group was focused solely on her. It did not take long for her to become a social outcast, practically disbarred from every group of so-called “proper” individuals, she turned instead to the internet for companionship. It did not take her long to find friends, but they were fleeting, fair-weather friends—as friends on the internet were wont to be. She craved their attention and companionship but the pain she was in caused her to push them away, and soon even that release was denied her. She went into her final year fully and truly alone. As a last ditch effort, Penelope tried the one thing that she had not yet managed to do, the one recourse left available to her—she tried to attend one of the many protests rising up against the biggest corporations, but the demands of her final year were simply too great. She resolved to graduate and attempt again, and try to cope with the pain as best as she could.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, it was the day of the protest. Penelope was ready. She was here, taking real action, among her peers--people who felt the way she did, who understood what she did, and wanted to bring a brighter tomorrow to the world. But even here, the betrayals she'd suffered tore at her from within. What had started as a mere knot fuelled by a hint towards the inequality in the world had developed by now into a twisted patch of briars that had made her every waking moment a trial in just how much pain she could endure--and what she had hoped would rid her of those feelings seemed to be ineffective. In that moment, she looked around and saw her fellows chanting their slogans and hoisting their placards into the air, and time seemed to slow for her. This was the most that she could ever really accomplish. No matter how much she tried, no matter how hard she worked, no matter what she put herself through... it would never be enough. These were all just ordinary people who needed something to blame for the state of their lives pouring their hearts and souls into an ultimately futile act and she was one of them. She was just another face in the crowd, just another body on the pile, just another pointless name in a pointless list.

The realisation knocked the air out of her lungs, and for a solid thirty seconds she simply could not bring herself to breathe. Surrounded by perhaps the most motivated people, who felt what she felt, and still they were nothing? If they were nothing, what was the rest of the world? The questions thrummed in her skull, her blood pounding in her temples, and just as she thought she was about to pass out from the lack of air her lungs found their rhythm and tried to compensate for lost time. She gulped in great mouthfuls of air, spitting them out almost before she'd actually managed to get them into her lungs, and cried out to the heavens in rage and despair. All she'd ever wanted was to hold these people accountable for what they'd done, for the damage they'd caused, to make them feel all of the rage and misery and pain that she and countless others felt... and then, the final and greatest betrayal—Yvette and Alana, working for the company she was protesting, walking out of the building hand in hand. Had it been anyone else, perhaps she would not have been so hurt. Perhaps she could have coped, perhaps it would not have broken her—but break her it did, and in that moment of betrayal, and alienation, and pain she triggered.

What happened that day went on to be known as a tragedy. Overcome by a rage so strong she was essentially an animal, Alana de Vere tore out Yvette Sinclair’s throat with her teeth and injured at least three others before having to be fatally shot by the police. The protest ended with SWAT intervention, and many more injured or killed before the day was out.

After the experience, Penelope moved back to Denver, ostensibly to take a break from her rigorous studies and get some experience in the financial world before beginning a job hunt in earnest, having been denied the connections she could have gotten at Columbia. The truth was far simpler: if she were to take advantage of her newfound power, she would need experience and she would need resources. Both would be better off if accrued far away from one of the financial powerhouses of the world, and she could use her home state as a testing grounds for her greater plans. With a little under a year of practice, Penelope decided to forge a cape name for herself. She took the name Adrasteia for herself and began using her powers to enact vengeance on the rich and, where possible, redistribute their assets to the poor. She accomplished very little, on a global scale, but enough to become intimately familiar with her powers and help those that she felt she could help.

And then, years later, Gold Morning happened.

Penelope eventually made her way to Samekh and set about looking for work in the only capacity that her talents allowed for--the practice of law. Penelope arranged for a deal in which her citizenship would be granted immediately provided that she worked for the government in immigration law. Despite a lack of formal training in the matter her skills, natural talents, and power allowed her to do the research quickly and tug the heartstrings of the right people to ensure that she was a formidable lawyer, even in a subject that she had not specifically studied. After completing six months of work her bargain was over, but the comfort of the job was such that she decided to continue in her work--if only because she felt she could genuinely help those that needed it. She has not bothered to join anything parahuman related just yet, but the principles upon which life on Samekh were founded have already begun to grate on her as an unnecessary relic of the past, in some ways worse than Bet ever was, and is biding her time until something about it can be done.

_{[ ♦ ] Personality}

---

♦ Motivation: Penelope is an extraordinarily ideologically driven woman, and her ideology is most simply summarised by the words "fuck the one percent". She loathes the state of the world and places its blame almost entirely on the magnates and oligarchs who control it from the shadows to the detriment of everyone else around them, and her sole motivation in life is to rip them from their ivory towers and show them what it's like to muck about with the good people of the world crushed under their metaphorical boots. Penelope initially took this ideology in a direction that she, in her more mature years, recognises as misguided and naive--originally, she had hoped to change the world through the power of protest and elucidation. She thought that if she could simply elevate the thoughts of her compatriots to the point of understanding how the world worked then the resultant shift in popular sentiment could liberate them from the shackles of their oppressors. She thought that armed with understanding they could accomplish that which had been denied them since time immemorial--a society that cared for everyone and everything within it.

It was only when the world took that hope from her by constant iteration and reiteration of failure that she saw it for how naive it was. How could she incite an indolent populace to revolt if they neither understood nor desired to understand the fact that the barely-gilded cage foisted upon them was not how the world had to be? No, she knew that in order to liberate them from something that they could not even perceive that she had to become as powerful as her oppressors in order to undermine their efforts. Thus, her motivations are twofold: Bring the current system of exploitation and misery crashing down and those who perpetuated it to justice, and obtain enough power to do so. Penelope will go to great lengths to achieve her goals, believing that the sacrifice of the few for the many is always worthwhile, even to the extent that should the correct moment arise for her death to change things she will gladly accept the opportunity. If she has to murder ten to achieve the power to save a thousand, she believes that this is a worthwhile trade--but only if she keeps her morals in check and does not lose sight of her goal. As a result she desires stability in the form of a group of close compatriots who can check her worst and most selfish impulses when necessary as well as damage the current regime in legitimately meaningful ways--and this resulted in her desire to join a group of more morally grey individuals than the First and Final Guards who, in her mind, exist to perpetuate the current regime (regardless of how true that may actually be).

♦ Derangement:Judicious use of Penelope’s power has left her with a more volatile emotional state than she would care to admit. She carries fragments of emotions and other such psychological phenomena with her from times where she’s used her power, and when she gets tired or stressed these fragments of emotions from times when she has recently used her power are prone to directly influencing her own mental state—and due to the fact that she very frequently focuses her power on psychological phenomena that incite themes of rage and rebellion, she has to a certain extent taken on more of the traits of a violent revolutionary than she currently realises.

_{[ ♦ ]
Parahumanism}

---

♦ Skills: Penelope’s primary talents are those of an oratory and intellectual nature. She is a naturally gifted public speaker and negotiator, a talent which was only magnified by her powers, and is considerably more knowledgeable than most in matters of finances and the nuances of the law regarding such. She is bilingual, speaking Greek and English fluently, and has recently indulged in the practice of things she thinks she will find useful in the field, such as lockpicking and hand-to-hand combat. Four years of Law School have given Penelope a mind for extreme detail—she is capable of memorising colossal amounts of information by rote and referencing that information as-needed, but this is certainly within the capacity of an ordinary person.

♦ Classification: The GM will tell you what to put here after you power has been reviewed/approved.
♦ Mechanics: Penelope's power is, fundamentally, the ability to sense, connect, and manipulate the psychological phenomena within people. It could more accurately be described as the ability to influence the connections and ties that bind humans together. Practically, this ability has several components:

Firstly, Penelope is always able to sense the most dominant emotion (or other equivalent psychological phenomena under the broad umbrella of "emotion", stretching to concepts such as loyalty or devotion) that anybody within around half a city block (approximately 450 feet) is currently feeling. While she cannot turn this sensory ability off, it is not an inherently empathetic awareness--she does not feel what they feel, and has an awareness in an abstract way as if she has another sense linked directly to this ability. Penelope is capable, if she desires, of reducing the range of this ability to approximately a quarter of a city block (225 feet), gaining insight into more of the emotions people are feeling beyond their most focused emotion and surface emotions. If she focuses on a specific individual she is capable of narrowing this focus even further to the extent that she is able to essentially consider their entire emotional profile. It is important to note that she cannot detect thoughts under any circumstances--her sensory ability is very strictly restricted to the purview of her overall skillset. Penelope's range of power has minor fluctuations based on how currently attuned she is with her shard.

Secondly, Penelope is able to choose a single instance of dominant emotion or a psychological phenomenon within her limited sensory range of approx. 225 feet and bind any number of people she can sense within that area together. Then, all instances of the chosen emotion felt by her selected targets are transferred to a single target of her choice. If any of these emotions are felt towards a specific target by anybody affected by the power, Penelope is able to direct all of the combined emotion towards any one target among those available to her. This typically manifests as Penelope choosing an emotion--for example, anger--and siphoning all instances of anger from all targets within her range, then transferring the accumulated anger into one person. Those who have their emotion siphoned by her power no longer feel any instance of the emotion. While within her range, Penelope is capable of maintaining a single instance of this effect almost indefinitely. Penelope is theoretically capable of using this power to transfer instances of any common facet of the mind that does not extend into explicit thought, which include but are not limited to: loyalty, trust, pain, and pleasure.

The exact specifications of the range of Penelope’s power vary, but it is most easily understood as a circular area of effect with variable radius--the lower bound of this area is 10 feet in radius, and its upper bound is 225 feet in radius. Penelope may choose any radius between the two and place the area of effect anywhere within her overall 225 ft. radius provided that it does not extend past her 225 foot distance maximum. As soon as any target leaves Penelope’s chosen range of influence, the effect of her power gradually begins to reverse itself over the course of twelve hours.

By virtue of its nature, Penelope’s power is Manton limited.

♦ Equipment: Adrasteia carries precious little, being relatively new to the idea of being a cape. Currently she has several burner phones, a taser, and pepper spray—but as her needs develop, she will upgrade her setup accordingly.

Natrelmon: Reckoning [Creature Capture]

that sounds like a whole bunch of effort joe

finding GMs who can actually write is no mean feat these days

Natrelmon: Reckoning [Creature Capture]

yep that's about right

Get Kid: Electrical Twogalatoo

"I see my chance, reader (who is most certainly an avid animu fan!). I, the heroic and venerable WHITE DARGON LUNAR will, in turn, save Spongebyrne the Foreboden from certain in turn doom!"

White Dargon Lunar braced himself. This was going to be his most in turn challenging fight yet. His hair stood on end, agitating his signature white trilby just a touch. Was this finally going to be... a ふさわしい相手? As he stood before the GREAT INEFFABLE PRISONERER, he could in turn feel the adrenaline rising in turn. It was happening... he swore to his master that he would never unleash more than exactly 17.7-inturn-233% per cent (percent) in turn of his true power...

"MASTER... I MUST BREAK MY VOW TO YOU... THIS OPPONENT IS TOO IN TURN STRONG, IN TURN. I MUST USE THE FORBIDDEN TECHNIQUE. I MUST... USE MY SECOND ZANPAKUTOU!!! I HAVE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE, THIS COMBAT... IT IS THE GREATEST CHALLENGE I HAVE EVER FACED!!!"

"完璧な神のウィアブーの白いトリルビー... !"

White Dargon Lunar's twin swords flashed in turn in the mooninturnlight. Spongebyrne... would be saved!!!!!!!!!!! AND MAYBE IF HE SAVED SPONGEBYRNE, YURIYA COULD LOVE HIM AGAIN???????!!!!

And then White Dargon Lunar died, cleaved in two by the infinite mass of Goofykins' BUSTER SWORD.

The white trilby remained, floating to the ground.

Get Kid: Electrical Twogalatoo

"Ohayou, in turn, reader! I'm looking, in turn, for my, in turn, nemesis @BlackDragonSol! Have you in turn seen him, reader? The Black Dragon must be held in turn responsible for his crimes! あなたが順番にいなくて本当順番にに寂しい... 順番に ゆりや!!!"

the WHITE DARGON LUNAR crested above the skies of Detroit, their signature white trilby staying perfectly still atop their head.

Get Kid: Electrical Twogalatoo

it HAD been Karen

all along

there was never anoheter, no,m not even lisa_{FUCK you lisa you wretched harpy}

KAREN had stolen the eggs, the precious eggs with which to make omelettes! The eggs, which had the potential to become children, could become GOTT3N... and if they could GET KID they coiuuld become an UNG3TT3NER of K1D?! but KAREN had stolen them all away, not delivered them, left them sonmwhere to become A GOTT3M3L3TT3!!!!!!! and that ckould not happen, no no, because the INFERNAL had taken all of the kids and so the SEMPITERNAL TWEENBEING had nobody to Fort Nites with or to Nite Forts wioth and deep within her dusty schkull a thought of what once was or perhaps could have been but had since been memorialised as a fortnite dance echoed

we live in a society... rise up G4M3RS...

"Mauris odio dui, tempus? Nec condimentum nec hendrerit nec orci duis? Id facilisis est, a tincidunt!" came the cry, crystal clear, through the woods. Karen didn't stand a chance.

BIUT LO AND BEHOLD

THERE WAS ONLY MARGARET, SCREAMING ABOUT KAREN!

"Fusce ac urna, diam. Mauris pharetra tortor mattis lorem ullamcorper ultrices."

"it WaS KAREN! kill HER! SHE STOLE AWAY THE EGGS! SHE FORGOT THEM, SHE ABANDONED THEM, SHGE LEFT THEM! TREACHEROUS GOOSEKIN!"

"Nulla eget facilisis massa curabitur et cursus nulla quisque eget. Dictum nibh lorem!"

"You CANNOT KILL ME! I AM SO MUCH MORE THAN MARGARET!!!! YOU CANNOT KILL A GOOSE, JUST AS YOU CANNOT KILL JOY! you cannot kill joy you cannot kill joy you cannot kill joy you cann kill joy you can kill joy you kill joy killJOY killJOY killJOY oh it's such rapture, such beneficence, such wondrous agony you killJOY you must join me let me KILL your JOY"

And then, like so many opponents in Fortnite, Margaret was simply gone. There was nothing left, not a speck, not a hint, that she had even been there. And the Sempiternal Tweenbeing thought for a second that she might have felt a tiny speck of something awakening deep within her, a beautiful joy, but then it, too, was simply gone.

"Curabitur venenatis elit sit amet pellentesque Detroit. Mauris pretium dapibus enim et pretium, proin."

And so the Sempiternal Tweenbeing vanished and reppeared in Detroit, ready to begin anew the hunt for TREACHEROUS KAREN AND HER VILE EGG-THIEF WAYS

Get Kid: Electrical Twogalatoo

Hider

Name: White Dargon Lunar
Age: as old, in turn, as chivalry
Gender: in turn
Extra Information: in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn in turn