Tyler

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

Posted. You'll notice I changed Matthieu's backstory in the post so that he's been living in The Shallows for a little longer than his character sheet implies. He's now entering his second term at NLCA rather than his first. Frankly, I really couldn't be arsed with the whole "Look at me, I'm the new kid" thing. Hope this is OK.

Also, if anyone wants to add me on Skype, I'm at facebook:upsetboulevard.

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

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6:00AM - THE SHALLOWS
Tuesday 8th September, 2015

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A bead of sweat, glistening in what little light was able to pass through the filthy window, slowly slid down Matthieu's exposed forehead, his dark hair pulled up into a loose topknot. His vertebrae crunched and popped as he drew his arms up high, then twisted to the side and opened them in a wide, welcoming embrace. He had practiced yoga for several years, and this Dancing Warrior sequence was always his favourite part of the routine. It required a lot of balance and he felt it was a good mix of physical exercise and mindfulness.

His morning proceeded the same way it always did. After rolling up his mat, he took a long, hot shower and then got himself dressed for the day ahead. Taking the heat into consideration, he pulled on a thin black vest with a Ouija board print, paired with a long flowing cardigan and skinny jeans that lead down to a pair of deliberately battered combat boots. He pulled his hair back into a tight bun to keep it out of his face, grabbed his bag and headed out the door.

There was a welcome breeze as he stepped out into the street, but it brought with it the stench of the marshland on the outskirts of town. He wrinkled his nose in disdain and found himself marching double-time towards the bus stop. As he rounded the corner of the block, he dug into his pocket for any loose change he was carrying. Matthieu was a fan of routine, and part of that routine involved offloading his unwanted shrapnel to a local tramp. He was basically a fixture in this neighbourhood, propped up against Del Rey's Convenience with his tin can morning, noon and night. That was, until this morning.

Matthieu stopped for a moment, pondering the situation with a quizzical look on his face. In all his time here, Matthieu could not remember a single instance where the tramp had not been in his spot. Where was he? Matt hoped nothing bad had befallen the old man, before the repugnance of the swamp filled his nostrils once more and he hurried into the convenience store.

"The usual, Matt?" came the thick drawl of Del Rey, the business' proprietor. He was fat, balding and Hispanic; his old shirt was, like most things in this part of town, tattered and stained. Matthieu nodded politely, taking a pack of gum from the shelf.

"Yes please, Mr. Rey," he confirmed, placing the gum on the counter as Del poured Matthieu a large black coffee in a paper cup from a coffee machine at the rear of the store. "Say, Mr. Rey, where's ze old guy?" he asked, his French accent slipping out a little stronger than usual and alarming himself. Del seemed not to notice; Matt assumed that other people just accepted he had an accent, and when it came across strongly they didn't notice the way he did.

Del just shrugged. "No clue, my friend," he said, a smile on his face. "As long as he ain't making my shop front look messy, I ain't bothered." Matthieu nodded, declining to comment that the tramp's presence was the least scruffy element of the store's face. "That'll be two bucks." Matt paid the money and headed out the shop, sticking the tab of the plastic lid on his coffee down with some chewed up gum. An old trick but one that worked well. He paused outside the store to light up a cigarette and eyed the spot where the old man would usually sit. Something unnerved him about this...

He enjoyed his first cigarette of the day as he walked what little distance remained to the bus stop and sipped his beverage as he waited for its arrival. He pulled out his phone; it was an iPhone 3GS, which was not the most modern model by any means but it served him well... He wasn't broke, but he didn't have extra money to be spending on the latest gadgets. With no job and his savings gradually dwindling, he had to watch his money. As he flicked through various social networks, he soon discovered that there was to be a party down at the park that evening. It looked pretty major; heck, it seemed like every platform was saturated with endless promotion for the event.

As the bus arrived, Matt flashed his travel pass to the driver. As he sat on the torn seat that would take him to his second term at the New Lilith College Academy, Matthieu tossed the idea of attending the party around his head. Maybe it could be fun. Nah, it'd be full of douchebags from Bayside. He could just see them now, an endless sea of clones fistpumping to some low-grade dubstep under the bridge...

He looked down at the Facebook event on his phone. His thumb hovered over "Can't Go" for a moment, before he hesitantly hit "Maybe". It could be fun...

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

@Tyler Looking forward to it!

@Lord Wraith

Hopefully you won't find my character too much of a self-insert fuckboy. I'll do my best.

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

| NAME: |

Matthieu Olivier Lacroix

| NICKNAME(S): |

Matt

| ALIAS(ES): |

Tempest

| ABILITIES: |

Invisibility & Forcefield Projection
Matthieu is able to render himself completely invisible. Whilst in this state, he cannot be seen by humans or animals, nor will he show up in photographs, video recordings or reflective surfaces. He is only undetectable by sight, and thus his location can still be identified or estimated by use of sound, heat or simply by observing the environment for clues such as footprints. He does not cast a shadow. He may be detected by the abilities of some hyperhumans, particularly psychic types.

He can only stay invisible for short periods before he begins to experience pain. This manifests as a severe burning sensation all over his body. Though it causes no physical harm, it is enough to break his concentration quickly and force him to return to visibility. With time, he will likely learn to remain invisible for longer periods of time, as well as turning other people or objects invisible.

He will also develop the ability to project forcefields. These orb-like constructs are near indestructible and are impervious to most energies. However, there is a great amount of mental strain involved with maintaining a forcefield and this is intensified in accordance with the amount of physical force used against it. Great amounts of force or prolonged exposure will likely cause Matt to fall unconscious and the forcefield will dissipate, leaving him vulnerable to attack. Energy-based attacks are 'absorbed' by the forcefield and whilst they do not strengthen it, Matt does not feel the same strain from these as we would a physical attack. Matt is not protected from mental or psychic attacks by his forcefields.

Forcefields are static constructs and thus, when Matt is inside one, he cannot move. This can be problematic as it binds him to one spot, meaning that some opponents may simply wait for the forcefield to eventually dissipate, at which point Matt is completely vulnerable. This is an inherent drawback of his power that he cannot overcome; he will never be able to 'learn' to roll around in a forcefield, for example. He will, however, learn to exert great control over his forcefields. This can include projecting forcefields around other people, protecting them or trapping them as he sees fit, as well as causing forcefields to burst outwards as an aggressive attack.

| SAMPLE POST: |

A blur of grey slowly consolidated, introducing more tones and hues as the image became clearer; then inched back into blurred territory. Matthieu tutted in frustration, and twisted the wheel back in the opposite direction ever-so-slightly, bringing the dull seascape back into focus once more as dark grey waves crashed unforgivingly against the cold, hard rock. Click.

Matthieu had always loved photography, but as he checked the snap on the screen of his camera he sighed loudly and scowled at the image. To an impartial eye, the photograph would have been magnificent; the sea was captured mid-air, roaring upwards as though reaching for the sky as it collided with the cliff. The pale beam of a solitary lighthouse in the distance was caught by the encroaching fog, giving the image a certain element of drama. But all Matthieu could see was the way one of the seagulls' wings was blurred as it flapped vigorously in the wind. He deleted the image.

He'd been trying for a good twenty minutes to get something he liked; something that made him feel. The biggest inconvenience of being a crippling perfectionist was that nothing ever seemed to satisfy him. He closed up his camera and let it hang solemnly around his neck in defeat, as he took a piece of his long, brown hair that had blown loose in the wind and tucked it up into his bun. He struggled to light a cigarette in these coastal conditions, but managed eventually and placed the thin white Menthol between his lips, inhaling deeply as he wrapped his dark fur coat tightly around his slender frame.

| NOTES: |

Matthieu is of French origin and lived in Paris for most of his life. He speaks great English but has a definite accent. He is very much a "riches to rags" story: after relationships with his wealthy family broke down, he crossed the pond alone and has found himself living in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of The Shallows. He doesn't mind it too much as he finds the surrounding cliffs and swamps very photogenic. He is about to start his first term at the New Lilith College Academy. He is not 'gothic' or emo or whatever (he doesn't really subscribe to any subculture), but he does wear a lot of black and dark colours purely out of preference for darker tones. Contrary to his image, he is not really a dark and brooding type and is fairly laid back. He likes to keep his cards to his chest and even if he is feeling down will put on a cool and untroubled facade.

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

@Tyler All good to me. throw it up in the character tab!

@Lord Wraith

Excellent, thanks. I'll get an IC post up soon.

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

First thing that came to mind was something about if he's in contact with the ground but if he flies through use of his power then he's kind of always grounded without access to his abilities. But perhaps certain material or materials block or hinder his abilities.

@Lord Wraith

His power shrinks his dong.

@Mr Allen J

Both interesting suggestions, but I chose to change his power entirely. It took me twice as long because after I first wrote it up, I accidentally hit 'Cancel' whilst previewing the edit. Because I'm kind of a genius like that.

Please let me know if you prefer this edit.

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

<Snipped quote by Tyler>

I'm torn on this sheet. What bothers me the most about it is that I can't help but feel that an ability with such a wide range of applications should be better fleshed out and limited. While you have weaknesses and some limits stated, outside of tiring Matt in battle, none of them are really exploitable. I think I'd like to see that fleshed out more before accepting.

@Lord Wraith

Understood. I not only agree with your critique but expected it. I was hoping that I might get a little more direction with what you'd like to see as an exploitable weakness, because I struggled writing some for this power to the point where I almost changed to invisibility & forcefields; but faced the same problem. If you or any accepted players have any pointers or recommendations (for either power, I'm open to switching), I'd be grateful. Because I've hit a bit of a wall.

VIGILANCE: To Whom Much Is Given (~RECRUITING~)

"Matthieu Lacroix" [+]

| NAME: |

Matthieu Olivier Lacroix

| NICKNAME(S): |

Matt

| ALIAS(ES): |

Tempest

| ABILITIES: |

Invisibility & Forcefield Projection
Matthieu is able to render himself completely invisible. Whilst in this state, he cannot be seen by humans or animals, nor will he show up in photographs, video recordings or reflective surfaces. He is only undetectable by sight, and thus his location can still be identified or estimated by use of sound, heat or simply by observing the environment for clues such as footprints. He does not cast a shadow. He may be detected by the abilities of some hyperhumans, particularly psychic types.

He can only stay invisible for short periods before he begins to experience pain. This manifests as a severe burning sensation all over his body. Though it causes no physical harm, it is enough to break his concentration quickly and force him to return to visibility. With time, he will likely learn to remain invisible for longer periods of time, as well as turning other people or objects invisible.

He will also develop the ability to project forcefields. These orb-like constructs are near indestructible and are impervious to most energies. However, there is a great amount of mental strain involved with maintaining a forcefield and this is intensified in accordance with the amount of physical force used against it. Great amounts of force or prolonged exposure will likely cause Matt to fall unconscious and the forcefield will dissipate, leaving him vulnerable to attack. Energy-based attacks are 'absorbed' by the forcefield and whilst they do not strengthen it, Matt does not feel the same strain from these as we would a physical attack. Matt is not protected from mental or psychic attacks by his forcefields.

Forcefields are static constructs and thus, when Matt is inside one, he cannot move. This can be problematic as it binds him to one spot, meaning that some opponents may simply wait for the forcefield to eventually dissipate, at which point Matt is completely vulnerable. This is an inherent drawback of his power that he cannot overcome; he will never be able to 'learn' to roll around in a forcefield, for example. He will, however, learn to exert great control over his forcefields. This can include projecting forcefields around other people, protecting them or trapping them as he sees fit, as well as causing forcefields to burst outwards as an aggressive attack.

| SAMPLE POST: |

A blur of grey slowly consolidated, introducing more tones and hues as the image became clearer; then inched back into blurred territory. Matthieu tutted in frustration, and twisted the wheel back in the opposite direction ever-so-slightly, bringing the dull seascape back into focus once more as dark grey waves crashed unforgivingly against the cold, hard rock. Click.

Matthieu had always loved photography, but as he checked the snap on the screen of his camera he sighed loudly and scowled at the image. To an impartial eye, the photograph would have been magnificent; the sea was captured mid-air, roaring upwards as though reaching for the sky as it collided with the cliff. The pale beam of a solitary lighthouse in the distance was caught by the encroaching fog, giving the image a certain element of drama. But all Matthieu could see was the way one of the seagulls' wings was blurred as it flapped vigorously in the wind. He deleted the image.

He'd been trying for a good twenty minutes to get something he liked; something that made him feel. The biggest inconvenience of being a crippling perfectionist was that nothing ever seemed to satisfy him. He closed up his camera and let it hang solemnly around his neck in defeat, as he took a piece of his long, brown hair that had blown loose in the wind and tucked it up into his bun. He struggled to light a cigarette in these coastal conditions, but managed eventually and placed the thin white Menthol between his lips, inhaling deeply as he wrapped his dark fur coat tightly around his slender frame.

| NOTES: |

Matthieu is of French origin and lived in Paris for most of his life. He speaks great English but has a definite accent. He is very much a "riches to rags" story: after relationships with his wealthy family broke down, he crossed the pond alone and has found himself living in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of The Shallows. He doesn't mind it too much as he finds the surrounding cliffs and swamps very photogenic. He is about to start his first term at the New Lilith College Academy. He is not 'gothic' or emo or whatever (he doesn't really subscribe to any subculture), but he does wear a lot of black and dark colours purely out of preference for darker hues. His favourite drink is coffee and he even takes that black. Contrary to his image, he is not really a dark and brooding type and is fairly laid back. He likes to keep his cards to his chest and even if he is feeling down will put on a cool and untroubled facade.

The Coming of Tuska [Conor & Tyler]

Selene's journey to the Capital had been one of swiftness and relative ease. Teleportation magic was highly advanced and required a group effort, but there was no shortage of skilled mages on the Lunar Isle. She had scoffed upon her arrival, finding herself in a wooded area a good distance from the Capital Gate. "All this power, with so little skill." she quipped to herself, and began to dream of the days where she alone could teleport herself anywhere at will - and with a good deal more precision than her Ancestors, it seemed.

The walk to the Capital took her about thirty minutes. It would have taken any average person a great deal longer, but Selene floated effortlessly above the rich earth and her dainty legs did not tire. She had few belongings with her, save for an ancient-looking staff, emblazoned with icons of the moon and dripping with feather accessories, and a ridiculously large hat that covered her soft, entrancing features. It was typical of the Moonclan; even in old age, they seemed to enamour weaker-willed men without even trying. She pulled her tattered fur shawl around her; although it was a pleasantly warm day, the pale witch was cold.

Selene arrived at the gates and waited in line until it was her turn to be addressed. The process was tiresome, but it was one she understood. They couldn't just have anyone walking into the Capital; there was bound to be someone who would abuse the apparent crisis that lay ahead.

"State your name," ordered a guard.

"Selene Miakoda." she replied, politely.

The guard raised an eyebrow as he spotted the woman's feet hovering casually. "Miss, I am going to have to ask you to be grounded for the remainder of this exchange." he ordered.

Selene frowned. "Sir, that won't be possible." she said, trying her best to remain pleasant. "My people are of the Moonclan. You may not have heard of us. We tend to keep to ourselves." she explained. "We inhabit the Lunar Isle in the far North. The one shaped like the moo--"

"Enough!" the man barked, interrupting her. There was a pause as he scribbled something on the list. "You may pass. Next!" he called out, as Selene was ushered through the gates. As she proceeded, she paused briefly, noticing some sort of squabble erupting between another guard and an unknown man at another of the city's entry points. Selene shook her head. The Capital really did need to teach its guards how to behave respectfully... Especially in times like this.

A friendlier representative of the Capital awaited her inside, and directed her to a vacant building in which she would be staying until the Realm Forum the following day. It was on the outskirts; away from the hustle-and-bustle of the city and was quite poorly looked after, but it didn't bother Selene too much. It was only for a night. The interior of the little house was quite bare, with a ladder leading upstairs to what she assumed would be a bedroom.

Making herself at home, she proceeded to the kitchen area, and waved her hand in the direction of a nearby tea-set. It was cracked and dirty through neglect, but it didn't seem to affect its magickal conductivity as it leapt into the air and danced towards Selene. She smiled as the teapot filled itself with water and flew over to the fireplace, which ignited itself and began to boil away. She looked out the window as she waited, and watched a man be roughly escorted to the house opposite. It was the same man from before.

Selene wondered, should she offer him tea? She had never seen a man in person before, but since coming to the Capital she had seen many. Their features were shape and angled, their hair unkempt, their voices deep. Selene would almost be intimidated if she didn't know what she herself was capable of. A cup of fresh tea landed in her hands. She sipped from it and smiled.

The man across the road could make his own tea.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

I've just got back from a holiday in Canada. Apologies for the late response.

As it stands, we don't really have any players, so we don't really have a roleplay. Of course if people rediscover interest for the RP I am willing to carry on, but at this point it seems unlikely.