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Old 11-06-2017, 04:15 AM
Verdant Glitter's Avatar
Verdant Glitter Verdant Glitter is offline
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Character Application
General InformationName: Kariena
Nation of Origin: Unknown.
Gender: Female.
Age: Debatable; either several thousand years old, or she was native to a realm where time flows differently.
Height / Weight: 11'3, ~4,100 pounds.
Fur color: A dark earthen brown.
Eye color: Forest green.
Appearance & Personality: It's a wolf. A very large wolf. If one saw a timber wolf, they would say, "Whoa, that's a big wolf." But if they saw Kariena, they would probably be too busy running in the opposite direction for any glib comments.

Massive, strapped with muscle, and sheathed in a plush pelt of a dark, earthy fur, Kariena bears all the appearance of a physical manifestation of raw, bestial strength. Every movement surges her voluminous pelt, the thick muscle rolling powerfully beneath her hide. For all that she could be a terrifying sight, her demeanor and airs is more that of a puppy that is happy, and eager, to dive head-first into any fray. She is exceptionally nice, if a bit simple, and if she can speak it doesn't show - She always communicates via rumbling, growls, and barks.

She may be attractive, if you're into that kind of thing. She is towering, healthy, certainly has huge... tracts of land, but when one figures in the range of tons she weighs and the fact that she stands in excess of ten feet, it tends to be unavoidable. Her sole garment is a wide leather collar around her throat, worn smooth and featureless but for the faded imprint of her name; there is no latch to the collar and though it doesn't choke or discomfort her it is too snug to slide off of her head. She's sleek, clean, and well-groomed, too, with the shaggy expanse of her fur providing adequate modesty.


Biography“It is said they came from the deepest regions of the desert, where the blaze of the sun shrivels the soul and burns the flesh, where no creature whole and natural lives, where even the Bedouin refuse to travel – Creatures of black and fetid skin, of fangs and claws crafted of tangible hate, immune to the fiery sun and impervious to any sword or spear or arrow made by human hands. The survivors are scarred by wicked cuts and great bite marks, and most will not live out the week. I do not know how they managed to flee their homes, carrying with them such horrors, but I must admire the determination they have shown to reach the city.
“King Sulaymān stated we would leave upon the rise of the sun. With one and one-hundred men we marched, the King bringing no weapon and no armor but his faith and several of his famous seals. For a day, a night, and a day and night we marched, following the lead of our King into the most blistering depths of the sands until we feared we would be forever lost to the heated sands. He gave no warning or sign when he bade us into a circle around him, spears held in reverse as we faced him at our center - Eyes to the feet of our King, our spear's heads behind us. We heard and felt the storm behind us and around us. Whatever spell the King cast seemed to work. For an hour he wove his magic, and for an hour we stood defiant to the cacophony around us, before finally the demons were banished. I approached him later and asked what had happened. He said to me that the hunters of men's souls are wayward, and as with all things lost, require guidance. Even if their path would take countless lifetimes, he said, it is a good man's duty to show where to place one's feet." -- Account translated from the memoirs of Sharik Al-Bajur, c.954 BC.

"I was sent, by my brothers, to investigate the small village of Brenlan-on-the-Moor; a youth had stumbled into our monastery one night claiming bewitchment and devilry, a pox visited upon his home by a wicked hag. When we managed to calm him down, he stated that the Devil's dogs were being led by a witch around his village, and that we were the closest of God's men who could help. I have been witness to very few instances of true deviltry, for the men of this land are superstitious and given to heathen legend, but nonetheless I brought with me the writings of our Lord, water blessed by my brethren and I, and, through the grace and kindness of the Abbot, the knuckle of Saint Cuthbert.
"I could see and feel at once what alarmed the poor girl so. A gravid pall hung over the small village, and those that remained spoke of terrifying shrieks and animal snarling in the nocturnal hours. Most of the townsmen had fled for fear of their lives. None had been killed, though an old man had died seemingly of fright in the first night; his widow spoke of massive hounds and unearthly horsemen. I bade them all to the strongest building while I sanctified the village square. The fall of the sun carried with it a great weight. I believe the Devil held no sway there, but in the air lingered a melancholy as thick to choke a man. In my prayer I could catch little more than the shadowy and earthen fur, the great lupine forms, the antlered riders and the screeching crone, and a simple man in flight from them all. Saint Cuthbert taught kindness and generosity, and in my invocation of him and the Lord I could detect the recalcitrant nature of these creatures - Or, at least, some of them. There were those four-legged beasts that stopped and strained at their leash, and I could discern the crone in pursuit of the huntsmen, who in turn were distracted from their quarry, theirs a baleful and malicious appearance. The hag chased the fleeing man, and both vanished from the village streets. By the rise of the sun the spirits were gone.
"I stayed for a week yet, but no haunting troubled the village another night, yet I fear that this mad and perverse hunt will continue in other villages, in other lands. In my time staying there I learned of the drowning of a local fisherman, whose death coincided with the appearance of the nightly revelry. The widow told me tales of the Night Mallt, who chased erstwhile spirits to the afterlife. I am left to wonder, then, at the baying and howling of the leashed wolves I witnessed." -- Account translated from Libri Spiritualis Proeliis, scribed by a Brother Francisco, c.1127 AD.

"The pale men from across the sea claim the land as if they could own it, and from their stories we have learned of their hunger and their ambitions. Across their land, across the sea, their cities spread unending and unstoppable as their greed. When they landed upon the island, we offered to them our aid and companionship. They laughed at us, and said they owned this land with their great walls and their cold homes of stone and wood. We watched them, as one watches the foolish child of another, eager to help but knowing it is not our place. They hunted for yellow gold that did not exist, for glittering stones that did lie under this earth, for soft furred animals in which their only interests lay in the value of their fur. They did not respect the land. The land would not respect them, nor would their nature.
"The change came in the night, as it often does. We could hear the screaming across the water. The hunters and braves prepared to fight, and the old and wise among us danced to placate the spirits of our woods and ask them for protection from the evil beasts that assailed the others. When we went to their wood-and-stone village, we found no sign of their people and no sign of a battle, but we did find a boy who had crept from our village to see the wickedness that the men had brought with them. We knew that they had become Wendigo, but the boy said no, that it had been deer shaped like men leading a wild pack of wolves the size of mountains. We knew that the men had become dark ghosts of their own ravenous hunger, but the boy said no, that the horned ghosts held the hearts of the pack to hunt what they hungered for. We knew that the men had devoured each other until none was left, but the boy said no, that the hunters were far worse than any Wendigo. He begged with the elders, until they agreed to the wiindigookaanzhimowin to ward off the evil spirits. Then he begged with the elders, until they agreed to the dance of calming the dead, and the ritual of companionship.
"What came that night, to the beat of our drums and the chant of the elders, was no Wendigo. If it was, it was the king of all Wendigos that had-been and will-be. Its hunger could swallow all of man and animal and the forest and hills and mountains, its thirst could drink away the rivers and the seas and the rains. Its pack of mountains-as-wolves snarled and growled and fought our hunters while the elders chanted, straining on chains of metal. Three were crushed beneath paws the size of tree trunks, several more split by claws larger than our hatchets. Their bodies and their blood were taken by the deer-horned men of glass eyes and shadowed skin. We did not believe before. We believed then.
"When the elders burned the incense for their rituals, the dark hunt disappeared from our eyes. We do not know where they went or why they came. When the elders asked the boy how he knew the dances would work, he said that some bindings could only be loosened bit by bit. He passed away the next day, calm and in his sleep." -- Croatan story passed down by word, c.1590 AD.

"The doctor said that it would help to talk about it. I don’t know about all that. How does going over something traumatic help one overcome the nightmares? I suppose it might be some psychological, ‘accepting that it happened’ first-step something or other. Writing it down doesn’t help, it just makes me replay what happened over and over in my head. Nathaniel, Benjamin, Father Mortimer. The screaming, the claws, the eyes as hollow as an empty room but you know there’s still something in there sucking at the air as if a window were open – But hungry. Guess I should start at the beginning.
“The consulate in India had been getting odd reports. The natives were saying that wild animal attacks had taken a sudden spike, but not from beasts one would expect. They spoke of terrible ghosts and of Lord Shiva traveling from village to village, striking down any that saw him and his host and devouring their body. We figured it to be some blood cultists to one of the darker local religions or violent bandits with trained animals or the like. It wasn’t a particular concern until the men dispatched to investigate didn’t report in. Eight well-trained, well-armed soldiers do not simply vanish. They could have been killed, but their route left no blood. They had to have been taken alive, thus confirming our suspicions for the aggressors to be men, not monsters. How wrong we were.
“The only habitable locale was a village close to where the patrol had disappeared. There were a surprising number of ramshackle hovels to it, but far too few inhabitants remained. They were gaunt, empty-eyed, and when questioned by our translator, mumbled further about the parade of Shiva and its inevitable return to claim more couriers and attendants. An old swami living there was the only one who disagreed with this belief but his thoughts were no more believable, insisting instead that the cursed spirits of immortal kings and their enslaved servants had risen up to run rampant across the land. Hell broke out while we searched the village for signs of our missing men.
“I used to like dogs. Loyal, protective, faithful… Had several when I was younger. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to like them now, not after that. The baying was familiar, but it was wrong, like a truck had decided to try howling like a dog instead of rattling like an engine – Too deep and loud and, I don’t know, too thick. I swear that the jungle exploded with these things, all animal muscle and claws and fangs, ripping and snarling and biting, chains at their necks rattling. I’ve seen big fellows, veritable giants of men, but they would be children next to these things. I guess the truck analogy makes sense, then, because each one was at least as big as a truck. Our rifles didn’t really bother them, I don’t think. I’m not sure they even noticed that they were being shot, if we even managed to hit any of them. I’ve been in large battles, seen kids getting their legs blown off, wandering around stunned with an arm missing, shot in the gut and bleeding out and crying for their damn mother, but this, this was terrifying, and when those riders came it turned into something else completely. They were skeletal, I think, or it might have just been armor they were wearing… I honestly can’t say. It’s like when you cross your eyes at something close to your face, and you get two images of the same thing, except one was different from the other yet I knew both were correct. I don’t know if my mind had just checked out at that point and was making things up or what. They even had antlers. Not sure if I’m going to like deer any more, either.
“So, the swami. I’m not familiar with religion too much – My mother was way into it, and living with her kind of turned me off on that – but they say powerful faith can move mountains. I don’t know if it was faith, or some of that mysticism you hear about sometimes in stories about hermits and monks in the mountains and the like, but he starts shaking all the talismans and necklaces he’s got around his neck, chanting and pointing at the riders. Those monsters they had chained up ignored the old man, favoring us, but those things looked right at him and, since I was unfortunately next to the guy, me as well. I slipped into a river once, when it was winter. I think that was warmer than the feeling of those things staring at me. If you’ve ever seen a puppet or doll with glass eyes, the really well-crafted sort that looks good but you know it’s fake and it gives you a creepy feeling like it might actually be watching you? It was like that. Just… Hungry. As though it drank in the very air I was breathing. Didn’t bother the swami none. He actually broke off one of his necklaces and swung it around, throwing beads all over. That’s when the fighting just… stopped. Those monsters, for all that I could tell, looked confused and some acted as if they were just noticing the chains on their neck, and the riders reared up. Then they were just gone.
“I have no idea what happened, what those things were, or what the swami’s damn name even was. One of the bodies that were left over was the translator. The higher-ups labeled the incident as a wild animal attack. Animals, my ass. Thirty-two men go out, six come back, four dead, twenty-two missing? I don’t know if this WAS animals, or some kind of secret weapon being tested, or if it was goddamn ghosts. All I know is I can’t sleep, I don’t eat deer, and I can’t stand dogs anymore.” – Excerpt from the therapeutic journal of Lieutenant Benjamin Freehold, c.1922 AD.

“To say this creature is an enigma would be an understatement. I’ve read a number of esoteric tomes, old journals, research notes, and mythological case notes, and I’ll be buggered if I can readily deduce her origin. Near as I can tell, she does indeed have supernatural origins, but the extent of which is beyond the ken of myself and my peers – Where, when, what, and why. We’re tentatively assigning her a ‘who’ though – The Wild Hunt.
“Many cultures across history have similar myths, that of otherworldly and inhuman hosts, parades, or hunts that revel across the countryside; generally, their appearance is always negative, as signs of doom, wars, disease, death, or other portents of catastrophe and malady. Witnessing the Hunt, as a standard, entails the viewer either joining the cavalcade or becoming the prey of the Hunt. Depending on the culture, most of which is confined to the European territories, the entities could be anything from the restless dead to fairies to minor or major gods. If this creature belong to the Wild Hunt, it would be difficult to deduce which, if there were indeed more than one, as the number of cultures and the spread of the legend would dictate.
“In appearance, she is a wolf, mostly. Digitigrade legs, a hunched stance when standing erect, comfortable upon all fours when in locomotion, thick brown fur, long bushy tail. She possesses more notable mammalian traits as well, however, as her front limbs easily double as arms with manipulative digits (which do end in very sharp claws, which she controls with a surprising amount of clarity and precision,) a physique or at least silhouette that could be mistaken for humanoid if she weren’t quite so tall, and, I suppose I should note, more human-like breasts than her feral cousins would possess (At her size, very notable, and I imagine distracting, if you’re into that sort of thing – At least the thickness of her fur keeps her modest.) She possesses no hair-like growths though the thick hackles about her nape and the ruff about her throat might serve as a proxy decoration, and her countenance – Muzzle and all – is quite emotive, aided by the position of her ears (rudimentary familiarity with canines helps – Ears forward is interest/happiness, ears back suggest submission/threatened/threatening, ears otherwise relaxed.)
“General personality is that of a puppy, to be honest – She is easily entertained and distracted, and is very upbeat, friendly, and happy for something that legends dictate hunts down souls and people; as well, personality tests suggests her to be very kind, besides, with mortification expressed at more criminal acts (Exposure to high-violence movies were a trifle amusing after we managed to explain to her that it was fake, but the same exposure to the evening news proved awkward.) That said, she has an extreme predilection and aptitude towards fighting, namely for sport – Her eagerness for hand-to-hand (hand-to-paw?) melee, her amicable personality, and astounding resilience toward blunt-force trauma, cutting weapons, and even low-powered firearms (Extended testing In this venue would be extremely unethical but I am inclined to believe that even high-powered firearms would have difficulty in stopping her) suggests she would serve excellently as any sort of front-line fighter.
“The only hindrance is her inability to speak; her thoughts are conveyed with a sort of pantomime and the growls, yips, barks, and howls of a wolf woman in excess of nine feet of height and a ton. She is, at times, perplexed by modern technology but seems to adjust rapidly, if not in familiarity with devices then at least being unperturbed them (She has a particular liking for music. Music and the savage beast, et cetera,) and her trusting nature can border on the naďve – But, she has a propensity for detecting less savory natures; I doubt any villainous individuals would be able to trick her into working for them.
"I'm fortunate enough to have a number of contacts and liaisons with various law enforcement precincts of Unity City; when those situations arise that prove far more esoteric than the standard human can contend with, they have no qualm with contacting me. This is how I came into contact and, I suppose, stewardship with the creature. The official report dictates that the Skulls, a gang of some ill repute, had been attempting to illegally smuggle an exotic and large breed of wolf to a private buyer, and it had broken loose of the cage it was being transported in. The reality is that by the time the police managed to respond to the civilian calls, she had already incapacitated the vast majority of them after they had apparently attempted to execute her when she had wandered into the underground parking structure one of their illegal weapon deals was occurring in; why she was down there to begin with is at yet unknown, but the responding officers found her complacently chewing one of the firearms being sold. I was fortunately quick to the scene, and managed to defuse the tension before it escalated any further. There were, amazingly, no fatalities, though every criminal that had opted to engage the wolf will be eating through straws for some time.
"I do not believe this Kariena, as the collar about her neck titles her, to be a particular danger to anyone who is not a danger to others, but I am concerned nonetheless – As much for her as those around her. Presumably, there are others like her, but what of the supposed masters of the Wild Hunt? Are they inclined to dismiss the loss of one of their hounds, if she does indeed belong to such? She shows no familiarity with any depiction of the Hunt, and attempts to probe her mind have met with resistance to those mind-reading spells I possess, which admittedly is not a forte of mine. A mystery, to be certain, but I will continue my research - With luck I will find just where this wolf came from." -- Personal research file by the Scarlet Moon, Magus and hero.


Powers & TraitsPowers: Raw, unfettered strength, and a hide that's resilient to damage allowing her to wade into combat to employ the former. Even with consideration to her immense size, the wolf's physical prowess surpasses what one might think she should be capable of; the same goes with her capacity for shrugging off attacks on her own person, though sustained damage inflicted will naturally adversely affect her. Simple powers, but her origin or breeding didn't require much more than the capability to inflict as much immediate damage, and ignore as much damage, as possible.

Complications:
Disability - Extremely large. "Subject bears the appearance of an extremely large heavy wolf-like entity. It is humanoid in structure, but with a lupine appearance - A rudimentary and simple description might label her as a 'werewolf,' but having contended with several, I can safely say she is not afflicted with this condition. I am unaware of any that reaches her height or weight, for instance, and most have finer motor skills than she seems to possess. Her considerable stature is something of a detriment for her - While she expresses surprisingly gentle, even tender interaction with living entities, I have had to replace five doors, two keyboard, two windows, eight trailer tires, and one phone (though the phone was the only intentionally destroyed item, as its ringing seemed to startle her.)
Motivation - Doing Good. "An odd entity, this so-called hound of the Wild Hunt. For all the pieces of lore and erata that I find concerning this nefarious entity or set of entities, I have a hard time believing this wolf, sweet as she is, could ever have been chained to them. She strives to be helpful, considerate, and attending, though her immense size and attributes may make her actions a degree... Clumsy."
Motivation - Thrills. "But her gentility aside, she has no small love for battle - She does not appear to be any more joyful, in any activity that I have witnessed her partake of anyway, than when she is in combat. I am uncertain if it is simply in her nature, or she simply finds pleasure in the activity. Either way, mock-combat and field battles both bring her joy - Fortunately, she errs on the side of good. Action-oriented movies seem to sate her for a time, as well."
Prejudice - Terrifying Visage "Unfortunately, many people cannot get over her appearance - One can hardly blame them, but I should like to think the stories that have been and will be reported on her, of her strictly battling with gangs and other hoodlums thus far, would and will assuage that. Alas, the simpleness of the masses prove otherwise. The incompetent think her hell-born, the uneducated a wild animal. I won't comment on what the perverted and prude think, but hopefully she will take to wearing clothes sooner than later."
Enemy - The Golgathian Order "It is not, I'm afraid, the perception of the mere masses that the wolf will have to contend with. There are always those who will rage against perceived evils, whether or not such ire is deserved. I know of persons - Persons, unfortunately, blinded by a fervent and misguided religious zeal - who would see this so-called huntress become the hunted, with little desire to discern whether or not she is an evil creature. I have no qualm with persons of faith, barring those who would subvert it into their own ends; my little interaction with this order has left me with the opinion that, despite the pitiable and sympathetic lives of loss that they led them to their current views, they are a dangerous, secretive entity that needs to be very strictly watched. If it grows more bold in this new world awakening to the preternatural, it may need to be dealt with more directly, lest it inspire others like it. But for now, they do not seem to know of her, and I hope that in the inevitability that they do, she will have come into her own enough to deter any of their attempts."
Quirk - No Speech "If this Kariena could speak, I'm fairly certain a few issues would be cleared up concerning her and her relationship to the world at large - If nothing else, despite a monstrous appearance, it would convey intelligence, and people could at least find something to relate to in that. It would also make communication with her that much easier."
Weakness - Cold Iron "There are as many and varied weaknesses to creatures alien, extra-dimensional, and supernatural as there grains of sand within the desert, and I find this creature's own to be a peculiar one. The concept of 'cold iron' being fatal to mythical entities is, I believe, rooted in the evolution of mankind's technology and understanding of the world - The very belief that, in pulling ore from the earth and shaping it into a weapon or tool, they have gained a knowledge of what had once been unknown, control over what had once been something relegated to deities and mystic beings. Silver might be the antithesis to lycanthropes, but iron that has seen no automated forging or even a primitive flame has thus far been the only thing to directly deter the creature. It took a good deal of experimentation to learn even this, and I admit to a bitterness in the discovery for the betrayed look I was given. Thankfully, she seems to understand I meant no malice."
Secret - Vile Origins "It is perhaps good fortune, at any rate, that none (that I am aware of) have suspicions of her origins as I and my immediate peers with access to these records do - This Wild Hunt, if she truly belonged to it, has had astoundingly negative impacts wherever it struck. Mass deaths and disappearances, plagues and wars... Harbingers or heralds, I cannot say. I thank the wild wonders of this world that with the growing advent of the supernatural and the occult, only the hound and not the huntsmen have appeared. Let us hope it remains that way." -- The Scarlet Moon, Magus.


Roleplay Sample
"Thirteen men. Hmf! Thirteen men you've put down. Not dead, but wishing they were, ja? Good men, too - Not the pawns you see working for tyrants, not the thugs that criminals employ. Veterans! Professionals! Some of the best that the Golgathian Order has. Good, God-fearing men. You put them down with, hah, relative ease, but I can see the cracks they made in you, beast. You'll find, I think, that as good as they are, I am even better."

It had been an underground parking garage until ten minutes ago, rapidly transformed into a self-contained warzone. The cacophony of gunfire had ended. Thirteen bodies lay scattered, thrown over the hoods of cars or through windshields, crumpled and groaning on the floor against far walls... like so many toys discarded and forgotten. Visors masked their faces, thick vests armored their torsos, plated sleeves and leggings their limbs - None of the sight enhancements or protective gear had helped, nor resisted being broken and bent. Most of their weaponry - Rifles, pistols, long blades and heavy batons - bent, or shattered.

Johann von Rothbauer surveyed the scene - Mostly his men - with a critical eye. No deaths. Some bones probably reduced to dust. Bruised organs. Wet gurgling breath, probably a punctured lung. Some of them wouldn't walk again. "If you had killed any of my men, I would not give you the grace of even this offer, monster," he grunted, hoisting the brutal morning star he favored as a weapon to his shoulder - Himself a massive man, its size was equally huge. "This might be a thing archaic, but it is ancient, effective - Powerful," he ruminated aloud, "Its wicked edges lined by sharpened cold iron, its great head blessed by innumerable holy men, fed by the faith of those that had wielded it. Come out now, demon, and I'll make it quick. One strike to the head. Make me have to find you, I'll do to you what you did to them. Please... Do make me have to find you."

The deep bass thrum of a growl reverberated in the concrete confines, thick and deep and dangerous. The click of claws on stone. The audible sound of something monstrsous moving in the shadows - Cutting the power to the garage and employing flood lights hadn't helped much, as it turned out... Ah, but there she is. Johann focused on the edges of the dark, narrowing his eyes as she slinked into the periphery of the light's glow. The tires of the sedan she clambered atop immediately blew out and the vehicle's top crushed down with a shattering of glass beneath the weight, things the she-wolf ignored. Brown fur streaked with grime, several crevices in the hide oozing the thick of blood - Though several smaller wounds seemed to be slowly sealing themselves. The rage in the monster's eyes were pin-points on the crusader, the thick black line of her maw curled back against yellowed fangs as large as a butcher's knife. Johann's scarred lips curled into a grim smile as he hefted his morning-star to a battle-ready stance. "Come on, then, devil."

The wolf's great paw tore a crooked door from the automobile beneath her and flung it, but the crusader's morning-star batted it out of the air with ease. The deafening report of a deep-rooted bark snapped free of the wolf's throat, and in a rage she easily tore through the hood of the sedan, sending a mottled chunk of the engine block careening through the air at the crusader. Wisely, he dipped out of the way, the machinery half-embdded, half-shattered against a far wall. The sedan moved several feet when the wolf braced herself against it and threw the entirety of her massive weight after the man, instead, lethal claws splayed and her maw split wide. No grace, no finesse or subtlety. Just raw, wild strength. Johann dodged that as well, though the black claws shredded through his coat and nearly pulled him off-balance. Had it not been lined with plates to ward off such claws, he might have been yanked off his feet; as it was he used the momentum to spin, sweeping the morning-star in a wide arc. The sickening crunch of metal against bone was punctuated with a pained yelp and the return of that growl, intermittent with glass-shaking barks; the wolf's fore leg twisted oddly and she crumpled into a heap.

The crusader took his chance. "You're vile! You're foul! You're flawed!" he roared, the morning star a crashing blur with every accusation, and more. The beast took a number of hits, the furred flesh yielding beneath the pummeling blows; the sharp iron edges tore at the skin, leaving ripped tatters in the hide. "You and every abomination! An affront to normalcy, we will purge your abnormal kind from this world in the name of G-"

The last swing didn't complete its descent, jolting the man from his tirade and nearly jerking his hands from the star's haft - The great paw of the beast had caught the weapon's head, the flanges piercing into its palm. The creature raised her head to meet the crusader's stare even as he struggled to free the weapon from her grasp, to no avail; anger - Pain? - as he had never seen burned in the monstrosity's countenance. She rose, first risen from where she had fallen, then further up to a stand on the rear legs, lifting morning star and hunter with her. Johann refused to let go, and even as large as he was, his feet left the ground. One hand left the star's grip, leaving him dangling, defiantly glowering in return. She contorts her broken limb - With a hair-prickling crack and fleshy ripping, the appendage sets itself, the clawed digits testingly flexing before tightening into a monolithic fist.

The wolf's broad chest swelled. The bellowing roar she loosed in Johann's face shattered glass across several levels of the garage. The scintilating pain it sparked in his ears peaked - He's certain that his ear drums ruptured. She swings the morning star, and Johann with it, crushing the trunk of one car. The brick partition separating lots explodes outward, Johann sent through it. Tremors and cracks cascade out from wherever the crusader is hammered - Walls, ceiling, floor, vehicles. He's swung about as if he were no more than a child's doll, neither the wolf's bleeding grip on the morning star's head nor his own on its haft relenting. Her free paw swings in, pummeling whatever part of him it can easily reach - No grace, no finesse, no subtlety. Pure strength. Pure rage. He knows bones are breaking. Some organs might be punctured. Perhaps he won't walk again. But when she finishes, tiring herself out, casting down the weapon and its own, he still maintains a deathly grip, and his glower is as angry as her own, despite the ringing and blurred vision.

From where he's cast down a broken heap, he watches. She casts about, as if daring any other opponents to come forward. There are none. She teeters then slumps back down to all fours, feeling at the numerous tears and cuts in her forward paw, her ears folding back; other cuts and tears in her hide begin to heal, the smallest abrasions and scratches sealing briskly, the larger sluggish - They'd take time. Those in her paw do not, or at least not to a notable degree. The crusader gurgled a low laugh, spitting out a mouthful of blood. A tooth. The wolf glances his way, her ears erect, no rage in her features. No fury. No defensive snarls or victorious smugness. Just a glance, ears forward, polite confusion. If she weren't twelve feet tall, one could have mistaken that face for a normal wolf's. She ignored him, then, cantering to the far side of the garage level where the floodlights cast their glow. A pile of cars, one she began to pull apart. People. Civilians. Terrified - Of her, of them.

A quiet rumble from her chest, not the anger-thickened one like earlier, but quiet and ... apologetic. She gestures them away from the bullet-riddled mess of metal towards the ascending path. Some of them are snapping pictures or taking video with their cell phones, but most simply run. "Wh- Why did they even attack us?" A stunned question, voiced in shock. The swaying wolf blinks down at the human, then glances back toward Johann and his men again. Cautiously, one long claw points at the scattered hunters, then to herself. A titan's lungful of air snorts out of her nostrils, before she patted the questioner on the head, pointing to the recording phone in his hand then to the lying forms, a subdued 'Wrrf?' rumbled loose. "U-Uh... Cops?" She shook her head, thought better of it, then nodded, but still repeated the gesture, before blatantly exposing her bleeding palm. "... Uh, nine-one-one?" She thought again, then nodded more briskly. Then she beamed - Beamed - at the human, a split-mawed grin. She didn't wait for either service, surging into a rapid bound up the ascent.

Johann lay for several moments more. Then slowly stood. Legs still worked. Arms, too. Sore as all Hell. Still a ringing in his ears, and a pain in the chest when he breathed. Hoisting the morning star, he studied its edges - The fur and skin and blood stuck on it. "Hrrmf," he grunted, picking several of the fibers from the metal and turning them this way and that to be studied, as several featureless vans pulled up from a lower level in the garage and rapidly recovered gear and the downed personnel, Johann. "Cold iron bullets it is, devil."

Johann handed the morning star to another, still-mobile one of his men, twisting at the ring on his right hand thoughtfully. Feeling the etchings of latin and the cross on its surface helped him thing. Helped him recover. Helped him stand against demons like this one. "She may have got away, but we'll hunt her down. We always do."

The police and ambulance arrived mere minutes later. Anxious and terrified people rambled about a massive wolf monster chased down into an ambush within the garage by a number of black-garbed super-soldiers, who apparently didn't care about collateral damage, given several gunshot wounds treated on scene. The monster was the one that improvised the car barricade, while serving as a meat shield. No signs of either party were found, beyond a few spent bullet casings and potentially several hundred thousand dollars worth of damage to the garage's third level.





Phew! Please let me know if anything needs adjustment or clarification or what-have-you. I've never played in Mutants and Masterminds before (I apparently have a PDF or two and made a character sheet at one point, game must have died before starting) though I did play in a Champions game once for ... what, two or three sessions before it fell apart. Not much experience here, is what I'm getting at, but it looks pretty interesting!

Last edited by Verdant Glitter; 11-17-2017 at 06:10 AM.
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Old 11-07-2017, 05:57 PM
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Still here, sorry I haven't posted anupfate yet. I was away this past weekend and work was nuts the last two days. Bio is slowly coming together.
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Old 11-07-2017, 05:59 PM
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I'm still around too. Just had some stuff go down in my personal life. I miss something?
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Old 11-07-2017, 06:54 PM
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not really, there was just some talk of moving up the deadline/selection date.
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Old 11-07-2017, 06:55 PM
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Nothing major has happened. I was toying with the idea of possible early election of players since the interest seemed to have died down at that point, but then a few more people applied. So after that it seems like waiting for the deadline is the best call again, which shall not be to the detriment of anybody. Decisions are hard, after all, so better not rush things and be sorry afterwards.
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Old 11-08-2017, 10:04 AM
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I'm hoping to get most of my app done today. I will give you a small hint. Antares.
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Old 11-08-2017, 11:05 AM
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the heart of the scorpion!

Last edited by kanly; 11-08-2017 at 02:49 PM.
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Old 11-08-2017, 01:32 PM
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By the way: I am aware of changes in your applications - but I only have my tablet with me at the moment, so i didn't bother with updating the table properly. No worries.
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Old 11-08-2017, 06:42 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by kanly View Post
Knew you would pick up on that. It's going to be more Sci-fi than mythological though
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Old 11-08-2017, 11:22 PM
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Is there still time to apply? I am new to mutants and masterminds, but I really want to give it a shot. Was thinking a angel type of character using healing regeneration and flight.
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Old 11-09-2017, 09:55 AM
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Is there still time to apply?
If you can get a full application in by the 17th, then yes. The character build does not have to be complete, but at this stage i need to get at least a general idea of the final powers and how much they would approximately cost.
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Old 11-09-2017, 11:04 PM
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The Cyber Angel girl with no hero name
Name: Vika Sundry
Nation of Origin: Unkown
Age: 19
Appearance & Personality
A young adult, Vika is rebellious, kinda, and has no problems being herself, kinda. You see, Vika has anxiety to the eleventh degree, and has been dealing with it with medication. When she is stable enough to confront others she is a happy go getter that loves to jog and be outside, but otherwise you would more likely see her bundled up on her computer chair playing a videogame.

Vika is frail looking, except her long built legs, and sports a small tan on her body. She is as thin as a twig, however, thanks to her anxiety making her not want to eat. Her dark brown hair curls at its tips, hanging down to her shoulders, while the top of her head tends to stay very flat.

The 'powers' Vika has somehow gained looks straight out of a cyberpunk game. The wings look like hard light, and when she heals someone smal lines seem to go from her hands to the target in question, resembling the lines you would see on a chip.

Biography

 

Powers

Vika has all the powers you would expect from an angel, flight, healing, and the ability to heal herself are the only ones she has discovered however, even if one comes at a cost. Having only gained her powers recently, she does not fully understand them yet, but she knows she has to be careful to not go too far with her abilities, or to let anyone she doesn't trust see her. Visually her wings look like something out of a cyber movie, 'hard-light' looking wings accompanied by a matching halo.

Complications

Recognition: Vika finialy has a way to stand out, when she gets the chance to, she will do her best to be in the spotlight. Just the thought of having it, even if it would be just a moment, pushes Vika into looking to the skies for any signs of those people that once showed up.

Addiction: Anxiety medication is a great thing, it helps those who have anxiety overcome a lot of things. However, for Vika, it is a mandatory thing, as she can barely get out of her own house without taking a pill. She has tried before to get away from it, but after a breakdown she feels like she can't live without them.

Prejudice: Her powers being angel like will bring a lot of heat from churches and the like, making her out to be a blasphemer.

Identity: Vika has a hard time seeing her anxiety filled self being seen as her helpful saving angel, so she plans to keep herself away from herself. If that makes any sense. It doesn't to her, but she plans to do it.

Relationship: Sera Kingly, Vika's best friend and sometimes caretaker was there when her powers started to show up, and Sera is also the one who suggested Vika keep a secret identity.
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Last edited by BloodSamurai; 11-17-2017 at 11:29 PM.
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Old 11-10-2017, 01:06 AM
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Neat. =)
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Old 11-10-2017, 02:19 PM
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Big change to myapplication. Still some work to do but I like her a lot more.

Last edited by Paean; 11-10-2017 at 02:22 PM.
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Old 11-11-2017, 04:32 PM
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Aaaaaand done. Didn't take too long.
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