Xandrya

Seeking male and female writers for a total of ~12 characters marooned on an island (current day)

@ItIsJustMe that's not a problem! I will catch up on reading what there is so far and submit a post after.

Seeking male and female writers for a total of ~12 characters marooned on an island (current day)

What I have so far, should finish her background in the next day or so!

WIP

Dr. Annelise Jennings, Cardiothoracic Surgeon

Female, 36 yoa

Image

Marital Status, Sexual Orientation: Widow, heterosexual

Physical Description: 5’3 in stature. Used to exercise regularly and although not bulky, her body is clearly toned. No tattoos or major scars.

Psychological Description/Personality: A kind-hearted individual by nature. At times feels she must right any wrongs and bring justice to light, which has gotten her into trouble quite a few times in the past. Often quiet and pensive, and if caught, will apologize and smile for her lack of presence. Though the tragedy that struck nearly a decade ago brought her to her knees and left her bedridden for days, she’s since improved. Needless to say, she does to this day have nightmares and if triggered just right, she may hallucinate for a very short period of time. This happens if someone she comes across has the same, or very similar mannerisms as her husband.

Education: University of Florida alumni. Attended the college from freshman year up to medical school where she was awarded her MD upon completion.

Family/Friends:

• Marcus Jennings, Husband - Deceased
• Raquel Peters, Mother
• Nathan Peters, Father
• Stacy Dorman, Best Friend
• Chris Jennings, Brother-in-Law

Background: Pending

Other: Annelise doesn’t take any medication per se, but she does have trouble sleeping. Since her husband’s passing, she’s sleepwalked a few times, but she has not been all that active and does go back to sleep in less than five minutes.

Direction for your Character: Survive and get back home. She will help to the best of her ability but understands her limitations. Having a good friend or two wouldn’t hurt. She’s not looking for any romantic involvement at the moment, but she does desire for intimacy and physical contact, though this is not evident.

Game of Masters (a twisted game of survival that takes d&d too far)

Sign me up!

Teen Titans: New Beginnings

@Master Crim

Sign me up!

The Last Avatar

Recruit Training Command - Great Lakes, IL

---

Nana, I miss you.

Tears welled up in her eyes as Jennifer stared down at the ring sitting beautifully on her middle finger. It’d been a gift from her grandmother, Diana. Sometimes she would absent-mindedly play with the ring, spinning it in place with her thumb. Today hit a tad harder once she caught herself in her habit because it would have been Nana’s 88th birthday. Her first heavenly birthday now...if there was a heaven.

“GIU23, show my arrival on scene.”

The dispatcher acknowledged her transmission, and her status changed in her mounted laptop, beeping once accordingly before it was closed shut. Jennifer didn’t want to leave the warmth her vehicle was providing, but her couple of minutes were up. Pocketing her phone, she exited her undercover unit and walked into the security building.

“Detective?”

Some balding and slightly overweight serviceman greeted her almost immediately, extending his hand as he approached her. Jennifer glanced at the anchor on either collar of his uniform. “Chief, I’m Detective Jenkings with the General Investigations Unit,” she introduced herself, shaking his hand. “I’m here to take your statement.”

“Of course, right this way.”

She followed him into an office on the far end of the hall, not bothering to remove her coat. The case was quite simple and so she wouldn’t be there long. Some recruit possibly not adjusting to all of three weeks in boot camp felt the need to off himself in front of the others all while making a statement about life at home in the city. In Chicago, that is. He wasn’t far; he was a quick drive away. But it was done, and now she needed to follow up and type up some reports to have them turned in by the end of the week.

Home

---

The advertised product looked promising, in a science fiction maybe. Even Sienna saw right through it. She shook her head, rolling towards the edge of the bed to plant her feet on the ground. She left her phone on the bed and lazily walked towards the ensuite bathroom, dragging her slippers across the hardwood. Reaching the doorway, her hand stilled on the light switch when she picked up on some ruffling from behind the curtains.

Sienna listened for what seemed like an eternity before finally taking a silent step forward. She readied a flame from her palm and as she was ready to pull the curtain aside, her mother called out to her.

“Sienna, honey, come out here please.”

With a gasp, the girl quickly pulled on the curtain and looked in the bathtub to see none other than her yorkie messing with one of his toys. “Milo, really?” she exhaled, closing her hand and dropping it by her side. Sienna left him there, even as her dog barked in protest to such an abrupt invasion of privacy.

“We need to give him his own room, seriously.” There was no context needed; her mom was well aware of what Sienna meant.

Laughing it off, Elizabeth walked an envelope over to her daughter’s dresser. “This arrived for you, looks important. Also, we have dinner with the Dunns tonight.”

“Mom—”

“Your father isn’t taking no, why are you surprised? Go on, wash off the sleep from your face. Don’t take too long, you have an hour.”

She watched as her mother left her alone in her room. Tonight would be torture, and that was no secret to anyone in the Callahan-Henley household.

The Last Avatar

[@Renny]
Love it, move it over one tab. And thanks for pointing out the typo! I'll fix it soon.

@Vlad Tepes
Appreciate the commitment!

Let's get this show on the road. Feel free to post at your leisure, I'll go ahead and make my intro post after I get some work done today.

The Last Avatar

Update!

@Sanity43217 @sail3695 and last but not least, @Vlad Tepes,

I'm waiting on potential interested RPers to submit a CS. Early on this week coming up, I will make an initial post and whoever has an accepted character can also post, so be on the lookout for that!

If the interest is not there anymore, not a problem! Just let me know. If the RP doesn't pan out, I may scale it down to a 1x1 or I may move the storyline to the appropriate forum (Off Topic I believe) and write it out solo. I'm just really interested in the premise... 😅

But we'll see where we end up. Happy weekend!

Firefly - Second 'Verse

No Flyin’ Solo

JP/Collab between @wanderingwolf and @Xandrya. Scene set sometime prior to the galley meeting.

It’d been a spell since that fateful night on Pelorum–he’d put it completely out of his mind. In fact, he hadn’t touched mango wine at all for fear of the specters it might conjure. No, instead, the Captain had decided nothing but whiskey, scotch, and bourbon would do–and it would do just nicely to drift off into oblivion when his head and his heart were at odds. There was only one person there who stood as witness, one shoulder who had stood resolute and made calls he was in no fit state to make.

He’d been meaning to express his thanks, served cold as they were these many ticks later, to the woman herself, and that’s the very reason which drew the Captain to the infirmary. His knuckles rapped on the door frame, their custom and his motorized memory. Cal strode into the infirmary to find Imani there, busy with something or other, and that suited him just fine. When he’d hired her on, he had in mind the particular feats of strength she’d shown full-boar in that bar-brawl-turned-tussle that she could handle herself, replete with a knife to boot. He cocked his head to the side just to take in a general assessment of how many sharp objects might be within reach of the abundantly capable woman. Pure curiosity. Nothin’ he was going to say ought cause ire, but he’d never really drawn a bead on what put a woman in a state.

Cal cleared his throat, “Imani, might I have a word?” he asked, sidling opposite her, the treatment bed between them.

"Uh oh," she smiled, not diverting her gaze away from her still arm laid out in front of her and now pointing towards the captain. Imani was currently applying disinfectant foam to a cut that'd occurred maybe 20 minutes prior. Some scrap of metal she wasn't paying much mind to slashed her as she went on by. Given the stitching was expertly done already, she now was focusing on the final touches. "If it's bad news just give it to me straight, don't beat 'round the bush." His tone of voice was neutral; no use reading into it. "If it's 'bout me dirtying up yer boat with a drop or two of blood, well she started it,"

Imani placed the bottle aside and looked up at Cal. "How may I be of assistance?"

“No bad news, least not today. Now, wouldja look at that! Looks like a mean cut. You say the Doll gave you that? Oughtta get Elias to smooth out what caught-ya.” He clicked his tongue as he leaned in a mite to take a look. Cal’s brow raised when, to his surprise, the lack of medic aboard hadn’t resulted in a Frankenstein-esque array of stitches, but a neat row of tightly-tucked laces on Imani’s forearm. He whistled, “Where’d you learn to stitch yourself up like that?” Cal asked, lips pursed.

“Hold on, before you answer that, I actually came down here because it’s been a tick since Pelorum, but I haven’t forgotten.” He stood up straighter now, to look Imani in the eyes. “What you did for me back there is somethin’ I’m not likely to forget. Thank you. Made a call when I couldn’t, and your gut steered you right. Even got me to the China Doll in one piece.” He leaned over her arm again, “Now as to why she’d want to go and do a thing like this, I’m vexed.” Idly, his hand reached for the bottle Imani had set aside to read the label. Disinfectant, he mused, she knows her way around both sides of a knife, I wager.

“Losing a partner’s only accompanied by a great deal of pain, especially when it’s sudden, no warning…no nothing. Just figured ya needed the support during such unfortunate circumstances.” Imani, then satisfied with the work on herself, pulled the bandaged arm closer to the rest of her. “And just so you know,” she added, shifting the conversation. “since you’re ‘er captain, I’ll hold ya to this not happening again.”

That got a chuckle from Cal as she eyed him. He raised his hands in surrender, “Ship’s alive, in more ways than one. You got to square with her yourself.”

Imani got on her feet to clean up after herself. "Very keen eyes you got there too." Imani had her back to him putting away some items she'd used. Somehow, she was feeling reluctant to let him know another one of her skills. She felt it to be a touchy subject given the doctor's recent passing. "I apply no drunk stitches ‘cause I've been trained not to. I'm no means a doctor, but I can do more than slap a bandage on your pi gu. Cal, if you’ll allow it, I can fill in here until you find yourself another doctor…whatcha say?” Imani turned to face him.

That request caught him out, eyes frozen where he was looking, mouth agape–but only for a moment. Recovering, the Captain circled the infirmary, checking the state of things. The space was clean and orderly, tools and tinctures were in their places; Imani had kept things clean since… since their last medic. That’s what she was becoming now, Alana, the ship’s last medic. It was less complicated that way. Cal turned toward Imani.

“The place looks good,” he paused. “Said you’ve been trained, whereabouts?” He leveled his eyes with hers.

“Ah, well, I did my time as a squad medic for a few years.” She came back around, settling across Cal once more. “A lieutenant of mine gave me plenty of training and I gained some field experience but course, I could never measure up... If needed, I’m able to fix someone up temporarily, though any extensive and long-term care is out of my reach I’m afraid.” Imani let her gaze fall to the deck. “Never brought it up cause there was no need, y’know?”

“We got need now. Squad medic, huh? Was that with the Brown or the Purple?” his eyes were steely.

“I was a browncoat,” Imani responded, feeling almost as if she were in the hot chair. Clearly the captain held strong beliefs, and who could blame him.

Strand nodded, “Either way, folk need to be stitched up, and lookin’ at your work, I reckon you’ve got the chops. If you do this, it’ll be on top of what you got on your plate, you hear? When a body needs fixin’, you’re Jane-on-the-spot, otherwise, it’s business as usual. Shiny? Talk to Yuri and he’ll settle your share, plus extra as you’re needed in here.”

“I’m glad you’re open to this, just figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a temp until we find a proper replacement…and I promise not to overstep. If I may just ask for your complete trust when I make my decisions, I’d be beyond thankful. I’ve gone on with full blown arguments and it nearly cost a life therefore I’d rather not repeat.”

Complete trust–he shook his head. Such a thing Strand reserved only for his own two hands. “This here’s my boat, and on my boat I reserve the right to question, veto, and kibosh anythin’ I cotton to. Since you’re fillin’ in on stitches and scrapes, here, that’s your wheelhouse. When the ante gets upped, and there’re lives on the line, you pull in a body. You don’t fly solo, hear?” Cal’s face had hardened, but now he arched a brow, “That Sister; I reckon she might have some experience. Ask her to help you out.” His brown eyes were still on hers, watching for comprehension.

“I meant-” a sigh of defeat replaced the words that would follow. Imani thought on what he’d said for a moment, knowing his mind was fixed on his decision. She had no blame to place on him, the loss of Alana had hurt him beyond suffering the loss of his love. “Two heads are better than one if she happens to have the right kinda knowledge. I’ll chat her up with the idea, I’m sure we’ll make a mighty fine team here in the med bay.”

Imani couldn’t conjure up what else to say, anything to ease him up. She began to make her way towards the door to go searching for Sister Lyen.

The Captain watched Imani’s back fade from the infirmary. He’d come to say thank you; he’d come to say he’d been a leaf in the stream at that moment, and she was the wind; he’d come to put his hat in his hands. He pursed his lips and tilted his head.

Whether he’d communicated any of that, he wasn’t sure. Imani was bright. No doubt, she’d make a good medic. No doubt, he could trust her. So why did he sour her ask? Because he was the Captain of his own ship. Because, now and probably ever, he could only trust himself. Because it was easy to grandstand, if he was being a mite honest.

And so it was to an empty medbay that Cal straightened his lean, alone with the ghosts, and uttered, “Dismissed.”

The Last Avatar

If I may...

My Character

"So, what you got for me?"


"Yeah, yeah. All hail the fuckin' emperor."

---

---

youtu.be/FIqPrn8vjFI?feature=shared

CHICAGO POLICE DEPT. CASE FILE 776230

Name:
Nero Castigionie Jr.

Age:
34

Sex:
Male

Physical Description:
Caucasian of Italian descent. Stands at 6'0'' and weighs around 189 lbs. Athletic build. Arms covered in tattoos of various origins, most of them gang-affiliated. Tattoos on his back and chest as well. Dark brown hair, short and often slicked back. Dark brown eyes. Scars on his upper torso, left shoulder, right cheek, and right forearm.

Element:
Air

Occupation:
Captain of the Castigione Crime Family

Personality:
Brash, vulgar, hot-headed, sarcastic, cynical, self-righteous, absolutely cold towards his enemies, not afraid to get his hands dirty...or bloody, rarely shows his softer side, values honor and loyalty above all

Background:
*TAPE 276-B - CASTIGIONE, NERO*

TRANSCRIPT:

*lights up a cigarette and takes a drag*

"Look, I'm a busy guy, so let's get this over with. I was born here in Chicago, the youngest of three brothers. My oldest brother Antonio is currently serving life in prison for murder and my other brother Francis, God rest his soul, died from drugs in 2011. That just left me. My mom passed away from cancer in 2015, not that I remember much of her because she and Pops split back in '01 when Pops got caught bangin' the maid. Either way, she's dead. What you gonna do, huh?

So...as for my Pops, well you oughta fuckin' know by now who my Pops is, Nero Castigionie Senior, head of the Castigionie Family, or "the Boss" as he likes to be called. He's an arrogant, fat, womanizing piece of shit and he's also the second most powerful man in Chicago next to, I don't know, the fuckin' governor of Illinois. Anywho, with Tony locked up for life and Frankie six feet in the ground, he figured it was up to me to be his successor. At first, it didn't sit right with me. I tried to get out of the life and live normally, but bein' the son of a mob boss, that's pretty tough.

*pauses and takes another drag*

I left Chicago back in 2014 and joined the Army just to get away for a while. You thought life on the streets was tough? Shit! Afghanistan made it look like a walk in the park! I saw some nasty shit over there, but I was used to it, you know. I didn't come home fucked up like the rest of those guys, but I still had dreams about it. Ain't the first time I saw a guy's head get blown off his shoulders or a fuckin' kid with a grenade blow himself up. Blood is blood, if you ask me.

Anyway, I took some shrapnel after our lead humvee blew up during a routine patrol in Kabul, an IED they called it. I lived, but the rest of my guys were dead...there were pieces of them everywhere I looked. They patched me up and sent me home, gave me a Purple Heart. I was discharged and came back to Chicago after serving four years. By that time, our family had beef with the whole goddamn city. The Russians and the Irish were muscling in on our turf. Then you had these other mamalukes, the Valentino Family, tryin' to get in on the action. Pops needed help, so reluctantly, I stepped in. I never cared much for the guy, but he was still my father. You have to respect your family, you know.

*Takes another drag, then crushes his cigarette in the ashtray*

So me and the boys drove out the Valentinos after we whacked their boss and a few of their made guys. Pops was impressed, to say the least, and made me a captain. There I was again, back in the life...for good this time. I can't complain. Bein' made has its perks, but you still gotta watch your back every fuckin' day. If it ain't the Russians or the fuckin' Irish I'm dealin' with, then it's the CCB breathin' down my neck.

Oh yeah, that reminds me. The bendin' thing. I don't know what you call it: a power, a gift? I call it a fuckin' curse. I didn't know I had this ability 'til I was in the sixth grade. There was this big fat kid, Charlie I think his name was. Real fuckin' ugly kid, lotsa freckles on his face, had red hair so you knew he was a piece of shit. Anywho, this kid would always fuck with me every day after school, so's finally I had enough. Now I wasn't big by any means, not like I am now. I was probably around ninety to a hundred pounds back in those days, real string bean. So one day, fatso throws a mean hook and busts my fuckin' head open. He's on top of me punchin' me while his two fuck buddies are behind him eggin' him on. I don't know what happened then, but somehow, I threw this fat fucker all the way across the street and into a fence. His friends took off runnin' and I just sat there blown out of my mind.

Oh the kid, Charlie? Yeah, he lived, but he didn't fuck with me anymore after that. Neither did his two shit-heels.

Anyway, what I do remember is it felt like the wind just picked up all of a sudden, like a huge gust of air just lifted this kid right off me, and it felt like it came from my hand. I was weirded out by it, to be honest. I thought I was some kind of freak. I ran home and told my Pops. At first, he didn't believe me, but when I showed him, he laughed, 'Look at that, fellas! My boy's a fuckin' superhero!'

It was cool, you know, to think of it that way. Well...unfortunately the CCB didn't think so. I remember when those guys came into Chicago, Pops was freakin' out. He told me under no circumstances to use this...power of mine, so I kept it hidden. There were some times I did use it, mainly to fuck some guy up real good or make his buddies shit their pants, but I made sure the boys kept their mouths shut about it, lest they wanna give the old man a heart attack or end up floatin' in trashbags down by the docks.

I've managed to lay low for a while now, just doin' business for the family here and there, but the heat's ampin' up every day. Sooner or later, I know these bastards are gonna get me. When they do, they're gonna have hell to pay, cause I don't go down without a fight.

I sometimes wonder if there are others like me out there that have these bendin' powers, if they're scared the CCB's gonna nab them too.
Maybe we oughta band together and show these assholes who they're fuckin' with, but then again, they probably got some kind of technology shit that can neutralize your powers. Always gotta have kryptonite when Superman comes knockin' at your door, right?

Well anywho, I've said enough. Can I go now, or are you gonna bother me with more questions? Hurry it up, cause I don't like waitin' around. I got places to be and shit to do."

*TAPE END*

Miscellaneous:
Drives a black 1968 Chevy Impala SS around the city and is always carrying his custom-engraved Beretta 92 FS Inox and a switchblade knife. Under the back seat of the Impala is a compartment holding a Benelli M4 Super 90 shotgun, a Sig Sauer MPX, M67 fragmentation grenades, and a military-grade survival machete.

@Vlad Tepes

Love it. Move this sucker right over to the character tab.

Guess I should have subscribed to my own thread from the get-go 🤦‍♀️

The Last Avatar

Sienna Callahan-Henley

Name: Sienna Callahan-Henley

Age: 18

Sex: Female

Physical Description: Dark brown eyes and blonde hair with porcelain skin. Sienna is a 5'2 "natural beauty", or so that's what some family friends and members of the family classify her as. Her skin is nearly flawless and she never really cared for tattoos nor piercings, which is simply a preference of hers.

Element: Fire

Occupation: Student

Personality: As shy and timid one can imagine a girl raised by overprotective parents can be. Sienna is a bright girl, but she doesn’t externalize it. She’s often apologetic, even when she has no reason to be, just to avoid an escalation in the situation. She's super friendly and loyal to the core, leading her to at times be somewhat naive.

Background: Born into an extremely wealthy family, Sienna had all the privilege the typical rich kid has. The only child of Marcus and Elizabeth, Sienna was always within sight of a responsible adult, mostly someone paid to look after her. Sienna was born in New York City but the family has moved around quite a bit since, eventually settling in Chicago right after the young girl turned seven.

Growing up, Sienna was signed up for various activities such as ballet and some sports in an attempt to get her to be more active. She eventually settled on tennis after going through a list of prior sports, and she loved it enough to play for years both in and out of school and even winning a few local and state competitions. Currently, Sienna is in her freshman year of school. She decided to stay local (for the first year at least) due to her parents constantly trying to convince her to just attend the University of Chicago. Marcus wants his only daughter close, and Elizabeth, her and Sienna share a secret: they are both firebenders and no one else knows.

Miscellaneous: Theme song pending.