RSSCategory: Drama

#9 Magno

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Art by Michael Powell (@mpowelljr)
Words by Rolando Garcia (@roshow)

The Magnos family has been in show business for centuries. Literally. The family name “Magnos” dates back to the middle ages, when they were part of a band of traveling performers. Their speciality has always been magnet and metal themed tricks.

With the proliferation of meta-humans in Ultra City and the rest of the world, Mark Magnos, also known as “The Magnificient Magno” when performing at Silver’s Circus, was the first of his family to come forward with the truth about his magnetic powers: they were no trick, they were real and powerful. In his later years, he had a brief but successful masked vigilante career alongside The Scorpion.

His grandaughter wasn’t old enough to remember his hero stint first-hand but she inhereted the family gift and chose to follow his example, becoming a crime fighter herself.

#25 “Bob”

| November 27, 2011 | 1 Comment

Victor was shoveling the snow on the biggest snow-storm of the century..when suddenly something mysterious appears on his yard. Since then he has been spending alot more time outdoors than usual …and when his suspecting mom questions him, he simply tells her that hes met a new friend named “Bob.” His mom doesn’t fret much-so long as he still gets his shoveling done.

 

*Continuation character to Victor (day 24!)

No. 24- November Rayne: Private Investigator

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Name: November Rayne (seriously)

Age: 30

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Occupation: Private Investigator/ Ass-Kicker

Short Background:
Life is tough for a P.I. Especially when you have a similar name to a popular adult actress. Just one of the many problems November faced as she tried to make her way through the seedy underworld of Olympia Hills. She’s multilingual, she speaks “money” and “justice”. She has few friends in this world. The closest two are her .45 and Jeff, the blind saxophonist who doubles as her informant. It’s a tough game, but November doesn’t worry because she knows how to play. In the city of Olympia Hills, nothing is colder than sweet November Rayne.

No. 23- Rena Yamamoto

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Name: Rena Yamamoto

Age: 22

Ethnicity: Japanese-American

Occupation: Teacher/ Novelist

Short Background:
Since she was a little girl, Rena has always wanted to see the city where her parents grew up in Japan. The fact that they never really spoke about it only seemed to strengthen her resolve to see it. When she found out that there was a program for teaching English in the very city, she jumped at the chance. She applied without even letting her parents know until it was too late.

Now, she is miles away from home and seeing everything her parents kept from her. She is excited about learning more about her culture and for once not standing out like a sore thumb. She hopes that perhaps she can write a book about the experience, but will she feel the same way if she finds out the real reason her parents left?

No. 22- Ben Willis

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Name: Ben Willis

Age: 22

Ethnicity: African-American

Occupation: Teacher/Aspiring Rapper

Short Background:
Ben never really planned on teaching abroad, much less traveling in general. All he really wanted to do was hang out with his friends, work on mixtapes, and graduate college. However, when life throws him a curve ball, he is given the opportunity to set his life straight. Now he’s miles away from home in a place he doesn’t necessarily want to be, surrounded by people he doesn’t know. Only time will tell if he ends up doing well or burning out.

#27 – Ishtar called Spiritbane – Outcast Aethermancer

| November 27, 2011 | 2 Comments

One Drop

“You have to concentrate, Ishtar. Your Shikai state is unfocused. Your sword is an extension of your arm. Your Shikai is an extension of your aether. Shikai binds your sword to your will and to your aether, a triumvirate of power.” My father’s words cut deeply because I wanted so badly to please him. My two brothers were much older than I was and had already mastered my father’s training. Moliki trained me from the time I could walk and Deniki took turns when Moliki was on missions for my father.

They were both excellent teachers and had inherited all of father’s patience. They were also excellent swordmasters but there was something in them that did not let them achieve the Bankai state. Despite that, they had almost no equals among my father’s students, able to defeat even the two or three who could summon the Bankai and extend their aether energies into amazing feats of magic. What Moliki and Deniki lacked in Bankai, they made up for with sheer mastery of their weapons, sword and spear, mace and rod. They were engines of destruction who taught me everything they could about fighting, footwork, combat magic, and Shumpo.

Their secret was Shumpo, called the flash-step by foreign warriors who hired my family as spies, mercenary, or aethermancers. They could use Shumpo even without a Bankai. In that way, they were unique. It seemed to run in the family as I learned to use the flash step by the time I was seven. I thought I was so special when I discovered I could use this power. I had never seen either of my brother use it, so I thought I had discovered something unique. I did not tell anyone for weeks and practiced it until I could call it and use it at will.

While my brothers were practicing I would sneak past them and snatch their weapons away or hide their tools when they were working. First they were there and then they weren’t. Imagine my surprise when I stopped running only to see them standing before me with their hands out. We would flash-step everywhere and I learned it had limitations, but for them, they were able to do things with it, I still can’t.

“Now, concentrate.” My father appeared to be an ageless man, of solid sinew and a steely will. His morning regimen which he had not missed in all of the time I had known him, all eighteen years, was a two hour session, filled with grace, speed and power. Some mornings with weapons, others without. Sometimes alone, others with my brothers and now lately with me.

I reveled in his attentions, at first, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize there was something he was looking for in me, that I could not see. He was relentless. We trained every morning, sometimes until the sun was high in the sky of Qing, and sweat ran down our bodies in rivers. More mine than his. His black skin, like coal would shine and glisten but would only being to sweat when the sun was at the peak. I was sweating by mid-morning and he gave me no release.

“Channel the aether. Summon it up from the ground. It is everywhere but you have to be able to concentrate it around you. Draw it from everywhere you dance. As you dance, you should be weaving the circle and attracting it to where you battle. Do you see it?”

“Yes, father. I see you have created the circle while you danced and now aether moves from outside of us, toward it.” I had dropped into the second sight to better see how his dance created the power-sink which moved the energy of chi or aether into a controlled pattern that could be harnessed by our swords or our bodies for a variety of effects.

“From here as the circle has been drawn and the sword begins the Shikai dance you will be able to enhance your body’s efficiency, speed, accuracy. This is why we cannot simply jump to Shikai with a terrible price in our personal energy stores. It is always best to use the early battle time to draw the energy of Shikai from your opponents and the world around you. Now attack me.” His voice brooked no disobedience and I immediately complied.

He moved his hand in a flashing motion and then deflected my blade with his open hand. His hand was surrounded by aether and my blade rebounded with an audible clang as if it had struck an armor. Since he had not told me to stop, I continued my assault, my mind focused on both his attack and my need to build to my Shikai state. I noticed he moved in a way to prevent me from creating a greater circle which would draw aether faster, so I contented myself with created a minor circle inside just a few steps and use the air as my medium for my aether matrix. My sword flashed with one hand and my left drew my matrix in the air around me. I could feel him trying to unmake my matrix but as the defender, he had a harder time, since aether moved toward the aggressive mind first and I used that to my advantage.

“Good, good. You are not allowing me to define your field of battle. I can feel your matrix building. But you are taking too long. Your enemy may not give you as much time.” He switched from defense to offense and his open palm strike was lightning quick as he stepped into my attack. His blow tried to push me from my feet, but I could sense his change at the last second and while I slid backward, I did not lose my footing.

But he did not let me rest. His follow redirected my energy that was resisting him, by coming alongside with his Shumpo, and using his free hand, he gripped me for a throw and hurled me in my resisting direction.Tricked into this state, I could do nothing to prevent it, so I relented and allowed him to complete his attack, as he hurled me away, I flipped over mid throw and struck at his face, disrupting his balance and weakening his throw. He, of course, deflected but this let me hit the wall of our training area, foot first.

“Shikai.” My whisper contracted the aether bound into my matrix into me and I exploded from the wall, leaving cracks and ruptures from where my feet pushed away from it. I flew at my father like a arrow, sword first. I could see him standing there, weaving the aether around him with a speed I did not know was possible. But I could see my sword being able to reach him. I knew that I would. I could see my blade slipping past his defenses and spearing him in the chest. This was apparent to me as I streaked toward him, but I knew if I did anything less than my best, he would be angry. I could feel the moment stretching out, slowing down, crystallizing into certainty.

My sword touched his chest and he did not appear to move. I drove my blade forward and suddenly he was gone. This was not Shumpo. Shumpo has a signature energy that lingers even as the target leaves the area, an afterimage of chi. He disappeared. There was blood on the very tip of my blade. Only a drop. But I guess today, that was enough. Practice was over.

Aethermancer-‘One Drop’ © 2011, Thaddeus Howze

First Appearance: Ishtar called Spiritbane appears in the novella Aethermancer, a tale of conflict between the magical East and the technological West. Two untested warriors of an age confront a mechanized evil from the West called the Clockwork King. He combines the best of the magic of the East and the technology of the West in a way that drives the world before his army in flames. With the greatest sorcerers and warrior-kings slain, these cultural enemies must overcome their antipathy to protect the Land and its people.

#27 The Azure Ninja

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

“Training, training, training! Blarg! I’m sick of training. When do I get to kill someone?”

A N

 

#25 – Lupo – The Lion of Mexico

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

The Lions of Mexico

Manuel Rivera woke to the blue sky of Pacifico, Chihuahua, feeling old and just a bit tired. He could see the cloudless sky from his bed and was grateful for being able to open his eyes one more day. He kissed his crucifix, and thanked God for his blessing.

His wife Consuela was already up making breakfast. Her breakfast smelled good and he wondered how she managed to sneak out of bed without his noticing again. The late nights watching the garage were taking their toll. He was simply too old to be staying up past ten o’clock anymore.

Sitting up, he got up and shuffled to the cocina to see how breakfast was coming.

“Put some clothes on, Papa, and come eat breakfast.”

“Did it happen again?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Eat breakfast, then worry about the garage.”

“I don’t know what to do, Mama. I was awake until eleven. I was sure they would not be back.”

“First things first. You can worry better on a full stomach. Clean up, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

Manuel went back upstairs and washed up in the bathroom sink. They broke in again. What did they steal this time? It wasn’t like he had a lot. His little garage and storefront had some tools, auto products, snack foods, and assorted items that the neighborhood wanted when they did not want to go to the supermarket further in town. This little store had been part of his retirement plan, and until the young hoodlums started harassing the neighborhood, it was perfect.

Manuel liked being a fixture in the neighborhood. He got to see the children growing up and his son and daughter, while they lived in Pacifico, lived on the other side of town, just far away enough for him and Consuela to feel independent. He was going to solve this problem without his son’s help.

After eating breakfast he surveyed the damage. They climbed the fence into the yard and broke the door into the storefront. Once inside they stole some of his tools from the garage and food from the store. And they made such a mess. He spent the better part of an hour cleaning up before opening the garage and storefront for business. Angela arrived to help run the store while he worked in the garage on an old Chevrolet Impala that needed a tune up.

When customers waited, they would sit in the shade inside the garage and read old magazines his son would bring from the library where he worked. His customers appreciated having something to read while they waited. Manuel was not a slow worker. He knew his way around anything with wheels, but sometimes things take as long as they take. He never rushed, and they never hurried him.

When he was finished with the Impala, he looked over at the pile of magazines and saw an issue of National Geographic. Their feature was ‘Los Leones del Serengueti.’

“That’s what I need. If I had my own lion, no one would ever break in here again.” Then he had an idea.

“Mama, does Manuelito still have that ugly yellow dog with the long dirty fur?”

“Si, Papa, but I thought you hated that thing.”

“Is he still planning to get rid of it because their apartment is too small?”

“You know little Cielo loves the old thing and has managed to sweet-talk Manuelito into keeping it. I don’t know how much longer he will do it, though. He says the apartment smells like a zoo.”

* * *

“But Abuelo, why can’t he stay here with me?” Cielo was using her best little girl voice. She was determined to keep her dog with her. She did not think being a guard dog was a very dignified job. She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her arms around the neck of a large dirty looking terrier mix with dusty brown fur and mournful brown eyes.

Manuel shuffled uncomfortably. In her room with all of her little girl things, he felt like such an intruder. He was not happy with the situation because it felt a little bit dishonest, but he tried to think of it as a chance to benefit everyone. “Because a dog like him needs more space to move around.”

“Abuelo, he is very old, he barely moves at all. He stands around or sleeps almost all the time. He barely even barks.” Cielo was describing everything she thought would make him an undesirable guard dog.

“Just the same, I think your father was going to send him away. If we do this, you can come and visit him every weekend.”

“Okay, Abuelo, if he will be safe and happy with you. I will come and see you every weekend.”

Manuelito stood disapprovingly over this transaction, and Manuel looked sheepishly at his son. “I will take good care of him, mijo.”

“Papa, you’re scheming again. You know he is too old to make puppies or whatever plan you have up your sleeve.”

“When was the last time I had a scheme you didn’t approve of?”

“When you bought that garage.”

“And you see how well that turned out, right?”

* * *

“Did you get everything, Angela?”

“Si, Don Rivera, but why do you need shears and scissors?”

“We have a project. Put the garage door down. Turn on the fan and open the car door.” Out jumped Lupo, happy to be leaving the tiny car.

“He smells terrible.”

“I know, he will need a bath before we can make him beautiful. Let’s get to work.”

Lupo had never been effectively bathed before. He was relatively cooperative, likely because he was too old to put up much resistance. His fur was so tangled it took nearly an hour to comb out all of the matting on his belly and hip areas. Overall, he was quite disheveled, but after three washings and rinsings, he smelled much better, and after his hair had been cleaned and combed, it was surprisingly long.

Looking around the garage, Manuel found that copy of National Geographic and opened to the centerfold of a lion from a side view. Perfect.

Hair flew everywhere and Manuel achieved a state of mania as he cut and shaped the fur on Lupo’s neck and feet. Meanwhile, Angela shaved the back end close, and the more she shaved, the more she realized how closely Lupo’s coloring did match a lion’s.

Manuel clipped and cut around the mane and the feet and the tail of Lupo for another two hours. In another life, Manuel might have been a hair stylist, for when he was done, Lupo was transformed. He was a Mexican lion.

“Angela, put the sign up, just like we talked about, and then meet me in the car.”

Manual cleaned up the garage and papered the car windows so the back seat was invisible from the street. He ushered Lupo into the car and Lupo promptly lay down and went immediately to sleep.

As he closed the door, he hears his wife ask the question he was dreading. “Papa, why is the store closed?”

Recovering quickly, he closes the garage door and turns back to his wife. “Uh, we are closing up early. We are going to go and get our new Mexican lion.”

“A Mexican lion?”

“Yes, to watch the store. Once we get a Mexican lion, people won’t dare try to rob us anymore.”

“Papa, is this another one of your schemes?” Mama loved her husband, but at times he would tax the patience of Jesus himself.

Shaking her head, Mama went back into the house and started to make dinner. She heard the car putter off into the distance, and it was gone for about an hour. What was he talking about, Mexican lions? Does Mexico even have lions? When he came back, she was just about finished with dinner. She heard the garage door close and him getting out of the car.

She was finishing washing some salad greens when she heard the kitchen door open. “Papa, did you take Angela home? We have enough dinner for three tonight.” She turned to look at him and…

“Ay, Dios!” There was a lion in her kitchen, standing right next to her. She screamed, and Manuel came running into the kitchen.

He saw her back against the wall holding a frying pan. “No, Mama, he’s harmless. Scared you, though, didn’t he?”

* * *

The next morning, he got up early and brought Lupo into the house. When he went to the storefront, it was as he left it.

Lupo happily ate his breakfast before retiring into the living room to sit on his large soft pillow. He liked it much better than the cold ground at night. Several times people came to visit last night, but they seemed very disturbed by something. No matter. The food here is much better than with that little girl, and I get to see her as often as I can stand her. Now if only I could get some fur to grow on my rear end, life would be perfect.”

Lupo served as the only living Mexican lion for several years. During that time, burglars refused to come back to Manuel’s garage, and when Manuel retired for the second time as a mechanic, he found he made even more money as a pet stylist for the well-to-do in Pacifico, Chichuahua.

First Appearance: Lupo, the Lion of Mexico appears in Hayward’s Reach in the tale: The Lions of Mexico. This story was based on a true story of a store owner who did shave his dog with the goal of preventing his store from being robbed. He was successful. The picture above is the “lion” in question.

#26 Anatoliy Nikolayevich Mikhailov

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

Name: Anatoliy Nikolayevich Mikhailov

Nickname: Tolya

Birthday: 7 November

Guardian: Papa

Location: a dacha near Samara, Russia

Handlename: acroamaticGrigori

Typing style: succinct. he does not capitalize anything, but does not forget punctuation. never uses contractions.

Fetch Modus: TETRIS

Items are assigned a random shape and must be put into the sylladex in an unspecified orientation. If the collection of items fills the allotted space, the bottom items are released. Violently. It is also the only way to get anything out of there, too.

Kind Abstratus: SHASHKAKIND

Initially used TASERKIND (a taser made from an old camera).

SHASHKAKIND was never simply a shashka, which he figured out the Captchacode for after some trial and error. After alchemizing a shashka, he combined the code for the shashka and the taser to make an ELECTRIFIED SHASHKA.

Title: The Locum of Power

Kernelsprite:

Tier 1: Papa’s good bear fur coat with the bear’s head for a hood (pre-entry)

Tier 2: a Garden Gnome (pre-entry)

Effect: Bear heads which wear cone hats; tendency towards isolation; faster than they look

Dream: Derse

Planet: The Land of Dust and Mortar

Consorts: Chatty, golden foxes

Associated Element: Earth

Associated Item: Lime

Denizen: Ismenius

Abilities:

Can temporarily harness the power of other players. Limited to one player at a time. Duration is measured in heartbeats, not passing time; this means that the Maven of Time cannot extend it with her powers, and that they last longer when he is calm. After the effect has passed, he must wait certain number of heartbeats before accessing another power. If it is just limited to his session’s players has yet to be seen. It is also unknown if it works on powers granted by the Horrorterrors of the Furthest Ring, because he took one look at that and said “no fucking way.”

Biography:

For most of the year, Tolya lives in a flat in Samara. However, we first see him in a dacha on a man-made lake that his father owns. How his father came into possession of this lake (which is as old as Tolya) is a mystery that many have tried to figure out: Tolya, his teachers, the government. Somehow, he has managed to evade the authorities on the issue.

Tolya does not like anything. There are just some things WHICH HE DISLIKES LESS THAN OTHERS. These things include CAFFEINATED BEVERAGES and BUILDING THINGS. Of the things he has built, he is the LEAST DISSATISFIED WITH THE HOMEMADE TASER. He has a GRAVEYARD OF COMPUTERS in his room because of his efforts to build a BETTER, FASTER, STRONGER COMPUTER. He also does not hate ELECTRONIC MUSIC, but do not tell the others.

He first met his friends on an ANIME FORUM, where he argued the CULTURAL MISAPPROPRIATIONS which CRANE BOY (the offensively incorrect re-telling of a Russian folktale) was guilty of. Their friendship is not one he can exactly recall because he cannot pinpoint the moment when he stopped hating them. This bothers him, but not nearly as much as his father’s GARDEN GNOME collection does. Those things are creepy.

He is the SECOND PLAYER to play SBURB. He entered the Medium with only moments to spare by opening the CRUXITE MATRYOSHKA DOLL.

Day #26 Zombie

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

#24 Victor

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

Victor HATES winter ..for its miserable snow storms, for his mom’s overbearing demands to dress warm, and also for shoveling. It wasn’t until one day, during the biggest snowstorm in the century, Victor discovers something that may change his mind completely about winter.

 

Note* What he discovers will be my next character ! =)

Skillet Hampton

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

SkilletSkillet was a member of a group of street thugs paid to kidnap the Queen elect. But after his fellow members where wiped out by a rival gang, he is left as the only witness to the kidnapping. Unfortunately he was not at the hand off, and…

He can’t talk. He’s a complete mute. But his Hat talks for him. Percival can read minds only while worn and only of the wearer. He only remembers waking up in a hat  shop and nothing before that. He and Skillet go a ways back.

#23 Victoria

| November 26, 2011 | 1 Comment

Victoria, the girl who ran away and learned to fly…

 

Victoria is a runaway fairy who grew tired of the strict traditions of her kind. Given beautiful wings from birth, they are encouraged not to use them for flight. Some say its because of the delicate nature of the wings themselves, but Victoria believes it is a way to prevent curious exploration and keep the the knowledge and boundaries of their kingdom limited. Victoria ends up running away and discovered the land of the crows where she accumulated the habits of flight and hunting. Her fairy past slowly departs from her soul…yet she is satisfied and determined to leave it all behind.

 

Note* The phrase , “Victoria the girl who ran away and learned to fly” came to me in a dream and it was actually the name of a clothing brand that appeared. Ive had this phrase in my mind for a while and I’ve always imagined her to be a rebellious girl. I thought taking it in the direction of a dark fairy would be interesting to show a bit of a contrast of characters. I really enjoyed this piece….again…a little more loose and designy than my usual stuff…but happy how it turned out!

No 26

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

#25 and 26 – Letitia Lock & General Ghost

| November 26, 2011 | 2 Comments

Letitia Lock and General Ghost

Letitia Lock & General Ghost

LETITIA LOCK always thought of herself as nothing special. The troubled middle child between an agressively striving older brother and a younger sister content with obsessing over celebrities on BET, she continually got into all kinds of trouble. After getting arrested for fighting and underage drinking, and washing out of basketball, volleyball, and ROTC, she shocked everyone by doing well enough on tests and bullshitting an essay to make it into a good college. She’s smarter than she lets on, and even though she’s small, she’s been known to take out some big dudes. She got to college, partied too much, and was suspended, to no one’s surprise.

One night, she’s at a party at a rich classmate’s house when she stumbles into the study and sees a bunch of files labeled ENIGMA BRAVO, with what look like bloodstains on them. The folders have strange titles like “The Innermen”, “Operation: Wonderland”, “Universe 13”, and “The Infernal Hive Mind of Myriad, Indiana”. Overcome by curiosity and bored by her classmates (“this place was dead anyway”), she steals the files and hides them in her dorm room.

Once she starts looking at them, she’s overcome by the creepy feeling that she’s being watched. She wakes up with a start one night to see GENERAL GHOST standing over her. Strangely unafraid and unsurprised, she asks what he wants. He explains that he was tasked with the program codenamed Enigma Bravo, a top-secret military program. Initially documenting strange happenings that could be either contained or made useful to the military, the General realized that the files pointed to something much larger. He was murdered before he could find out what. A stubborn sumbitch, instead of remaining in the afterworld, or getting caught up in a ghost loop, he learned at the feet of the greatest military commanders and scholars of the world he could find in The After, and returned to our world to search for a living person who could help him finish the Enigma Bravo project. Letitia Lock, he has decided, is that person. “You do go to war with the army you have,” he admits after having observed Letitia’s current lifestyle.

The enemy:  forces from ‘Outside’ — things we call angels, demons, faeries, aliens.  They remain hidden, distorting and transforming things in the world for their use. Their primary agents are The Nephilim, offspring of unions betwen beings from Outside and living things (mostly but not always human). Letitia and the General have some allies: creatures classified as “cryptozoological” such as the elusive, scholarly Yeti, and the Outsiders’ most fierce enemy: the “little men” which show up in every culture’s legends – gnomes, menehune, leprechauns — that teach them things. But these creatures can’t always be counted on, at least not according to the General.

Now that Letitia’s found this world, and some kind of meaning, she’s hanging onto it with every fiber of her being. The general sees some potential in her, and agrees to guide her, though at times it’s painful for the both of them. She’s not dumb by any means, but she’s no scholar, she has no military discipline, she knows nothing about shadowy conspiracies. She just knows that she found the files, she can see the General when others can’t, and she belongs here and she’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. And even some people who don’t say otherwise.

Under General Ghost’s tutelage, she discovers that all the things she could deal with in her life were down to her ridiculous amount of willpower, from  a knack for beating up much larger oppoents to her ability to drink people under the table and function on amounts of drugs that would kill lesser mortals. She possesses a boundless amount of energy that can’t be contained by the normal world… but makes her a perfect soldier for the war General could never finish by himself.

#25_Street Sweeper

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments
"Street Sweeper"

"Street Sweeper"

Sam Medina – Day 26

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

Day 25 Part 2: Calvin White, age 19

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

For the last eight years, Calvin has been learning more and more about magic, and about how little of it has anything in common with Harry Potter. In a few months, he’ll be going off to college, and a whole slew of new problems will be facing him in respect to hiding his powers.

 

#20 Hessena the Mermaid

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

She took another painful step.  One of most likely thousands she had taken.  One of millions she was willing to take.  It wasn’t as though she had been ignorant of the pain she was to feel if she was to walk on land with legs like men- she had been warned, shards of glass and the like.  Being trapped on the ground, incapable of floating upwards, however, had effects she had not considered.  Although Hessenah was well familiar with the rules above the water, having spent more than enough time on outcroppings and seashores, she had not realized quite how confining it would be.  And carrying her own weight- she was fully capable of it, the muscle form needed for it came with the spell which gave her legs and feet- but she had not expected it to make her feel so pinned down.  So constantly trapped.

She knew that she had not been the first to take the offer, to take the spell and walk upright and on dry land.  But she honestly could not understand how the others had not returned within the hour, realizing that no affection or interest could overshadow the fact that they were better off swimming free and unfettered.  She would not compare herself to them.  Her cause was dire, her reason for leaving the waves drove her with deeper pain and heavier weight than any her counterfeit form could assault her with.

Hessenah would not compare herself to her foolish little sister, impulsive and careless, who had allowed herself to be lured onto land by the smooth tongue of a handsome fisherman, into the hands of a ruthless love which in the end had killed her.  With a smile as sharp as the pain of her steps, she wondered what that fisherman think when he realized that he had once again drawn a maiden from the sea.  Before he realized that what he had called up this time little more than vengeance.  Little more than his own slow and painful death.

For a mermaid was just as capable of killing a man with her own bare hands as she was capable of luring him off of a cliff.  the old stories were true, and they were right.  It always ended in blood and tears, and a wise fisherman should count himself lucky to have never met her kind.

#25: Nahid Athari

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

Name: Nahid Athari

Birthday: 18 February

Guardian: Mom

Location: Ottawa, ON

Handlename: auxiliaryAssassin

Typing style: Perfect punctuation and capitalization, but has ishues wif spelling.

Fetch Modus: PURSE

This modus acts as an infinite bag of holding, allowing the user to captchalogue an item and store it in the Sylladex. The user may remove any item at any time, no matter what order items were added, but good luck finding it.

Kind Abstratus: LASERKIND

A laser gun made by combining a cap gun with a laser pointer. The combination of the two is, apparently, a lethal combination.

Initially, she wielded a kitchen knife, but she never allocated it to anything . She simply picked it up and used it.

Title: The Maven of Time

Kernelsprite:

Tier 1: Green octopus plush toy (pre-entry)

Tier 2: The lobster which was supposed to have been dinner (pre-entry)

Effect: Tentacles with suckers and claws

Dream: Prospit

Planet: The Land of Wheels and Icicles

Consorts: polite, chartreuse seals

Associated Element: Water

Associated Item: Glass

Denizen: Phorcys

Abilities:

Time-travel. Can jump to different moments in time and exist simultaneously at a single moment in time. Can travel backwards in time and return to initial time period. Creating “new” instances of herself can lead to the discovery of “omega timelines”, which are ones which have deviated from the alpha timeline so much that they have been marked for destruction. If that Omega Maven returns to the alpha timeline and merges with the Alpha Maven, she can remember what doomed that timeline and avoid it (the effect of merging with versions of herself which are marked for destruction has yet to be seen).

Biography:

Nahid Athari came from Iran to Canada when she was just a baby, so she has no memories of it. She lives with only her mother and is strictly forbidden from asking about her father. She assumes he was the reason she left Iran. Her interests lie in MARINE BIOLOGY, but not to the extent her mother believes. She just finds it fascinating. There is really no need to keep buying her PLUSH TOYS of MARINE FAUNA. She is FOURTEEN YEARS OLD, for crying out loud.

She can read and write in English, speak Farsi, and mock French. For some reason, she sleep-graffitis her walls with the word “AEON” a lot. She enjoys SOUNDTRACK MUSIC and FILM REMAKES OF MUSICALS. She likes to sing these songs, which she does badly. ANIME is her guilty pleasure. Discussion of the latest episode of CRANE BOY (the epic tale of a boy who learns that his mother was a bird) is what introduced her to her BEST FRIENDS FOREVER. The fact that they have never met face-to-face does not detract from that in any way.

She is the FOURTH PLAYER to play SBURB. She entered the Medium well before the countdown on the CURXTRUDER reached zero by turning over an CRUXITE HOURGLASS.

#27 Tybalt Lavandula “Captain Lavender”

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

Was considering making him an airship captain, but I may try something more modern.

Noooot sure.

Day 25: Calvin White

| November 25, 2011 | 1 Comment

For years Calvin has been trying to persuade his parents that he is a wizard, to no avail. On his eleventh birthday, the 31st of of July (the same as Harry’s), he had not yet received his letter from Hogwarts. His parents tried to comfort him, assuming that he had finally given up on the idea. However, even though no letter had arrived, Calvin was still convinced that he must be a wizard, and would not let them near him. He grabbed his plastic cauldron full of stuffed owls and fake potions and spell books and hid them in his closet.

After a few days of not speaking to his parents, and hearing them discuss therapy options, he decided it would be more prudent to just pretend that he did not believe in magic any more. It was about this point that he noticed that he actually did have magical abilities that were not only his imagination. Unfortunately, he is not able to tell anyone without them thinking he is making it up or mentally ill.

 

# 22 Atrina Korkova

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

The flamboyant owner of a prestigious restaurant.

 

Day 25: Jeg er forfærdelig til at finde pÃ¥ navne/ I’m Terrible at coming up with names

| November 25, 2011 | 1 Comment

So another day another drawing. ne of the best i”ve done in a while in my own oppinion, I just got into the sweet spot this night.

Savoit

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

SavoitChancellor of the reptilian parliament, Savoit is an example of the sometimes rocky relations between mammalian and Reptilids since the cold blood war. On one hand Savoit is very much the progressive, working for a more ecumenical relationship between the peoples. But Savoit has his own agenda, himself.

#26 Saa

| November 25, 2011 | 1 Comment

 

An Anubis reincarnate.

#24 – Dianne the Boxer

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

Day 24 - Dianne the Boxer by George Ward

Dianne was raised with two brothers who loved boxing.  At first she wasn’t interested in the sport, but over time she came to love it.  She is now one of the top boxers in the nation and teaches boxing as a form of exercise and self defence.

Day 25 – Rusty Jones

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

Rusty Jones, gamer extraordinaire

 

#22 Ghost of Tiger

| November 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

Ghost of tiger…the spirit that haunts an unsuspecting soul that may be lacking the right energy and assertiveness. It captures the mundane soul and fills it with rage and passion.
note**What an experimental piece…I was inspired by a coworkers dream and I instantly had this imagery in mind. Definitely was super fun to paint so loosely and to just have fun with colours.

#19 Danor

| November 24, 2011 | 0 Comments

Danor did not think that he would ever shake that mild unease, that tingle of awareness that he always felt walking in the wood.  It was not enough to make him leave or find shelter somewhere else, but it was always there, keeping him on his toes.  In fact, he found he rather liked this little nudge that daily sharpened his awareness.  It made sense, as not much since he left the war ever had.

He had spent so much time on the front lines and often well into enemy territory that all sense of what it was to be loose, relaxed and off his guard had been burnt out of him.  Only one of the may things the war had burnt out of him, the last of which was the will to keep fighting.  Unfortunately, well-armed skittish man was not exactly welcome in peaceful lands.  His commander had tried to warn him, had ridiculed his wish to leave, asked him where he thought he would belong.  Danor had responded that perhaps assassins made good butchers, but his commander had responded that behind a flag to hide behind, civilized society would never see him as more than a thief and murderer.

He had been right, but still and all, Danor was glad he had left the service.  He could no longer fight.  This was no crisis of conscience or higher moral choice.  He simply could no longer fight.  But his instincts could not leave him.  So, in the end, he found himself much at home within the confines of a wilderness which, although it sustained him well enough, never exactly made him feel welcome.

He was glad of those instincts on the day the wolves came for him.  Those instincts kept him calm as he spotted first one, then another, and so on until he realized he was surrounded.  Those instincts kept him from leaping into a mad and hopeless struggle with the beasts who could overpower and kill him handily.  Those instincts were the only thing which led him to understand that they were intent on herding him and not simply making a quick meal out of him.

Halfway disbelieving, the grayed and broken man of war let himself be led, let himself believe this daydream or folly, ran with them when their pace seemed to insist it.  Followed the wolves all the way to the girl.  The lovely flower of a creature lay in a pool of her own blood, skewered mercilessly by the fresh green shards of a blown out tree.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.  It wasn’t the massive black wolf that sat at her hand that had frozen him, nor was it the keen awareness in her eyes as she looked right past him and to the pack.  It wasn’t even the nature of her wounds.  He’d seen worse.  He’d treated worse, having no recourse for medics days away from any territory which could be considered remotely friendly.  It was just that he had never seen this sort of wound on such a delicate thing.  She seemed little more than a child, really.  And even from the short distance that he had kept, he could tell they were serious.

He was in no way certain he could bring himself to move.  In his weakest of moments, had he been forced to admit it to anyone, this was exactly the sort of thing which had finally shoved him out of uniform.  There was just so damn much blood, blood which meant pain, blood which was unfair.  Blood which may well mean loss.  Yet again, another loss.  He had doubts that he could do it, but he stepped forward anyway, ignoring the wolf and placing a gentle hand upon the young thing’s forehead.

#18 Calli

| November 24, 2011 | 0 Comments

She could call the whole wood down if she so wished, she could bring out any threat known to thief or hunter, and eliminate any foe she faced before they even knew she existed.  Foolish to think that it made her invulnerable.  Because she couldn’t ward herself against rain slicked ground, a broken tree, and a careless blind dash.  And she should have been well aware by now that she could not ward herself against the foolishness that came of thinking oneself invulnerable.  But she was young.  She knew herself to be young, careless, foolish, and most likely soon to be dead.

A sudden and massive early snowfall days ago had caused trees to nearly burst from the unexpected weight, cold and pressure.  The rainfall which followed had made the fallen leaves as slick as ice. The combination left her on the ground, impaled, struggling for breath, and slowly starting to loose her senses.  She knew of no animal or spirit who could help.  No beaver could pull loose the branches within her in such a way that she would not bleed do death immediately, no swarm of spiders could bind her shut well enough to stem the flow.

Although she was terrified, now that the initial shock had worn off and the pain had begun to ebb with her stillness, she had become resigned to dying.  At least she knew she would not have to die alone.  Those creatures closest to her, who were often present with no call from her, were there with her, giving her their heat, their gentle touches.  They knew exactly what was happening to her.  It was not as though any animal in the wood was unfamiliar with death, even violently accidental ones.

But there was only one wolf with her– the old man, who spent his life on the fringes of the pack, shunned for his unpredictable ill-temper.  It was odd, really, and it stung a little that her closest of companions had not seen fit to give her their company, but she would not hold her hurt against them.  After all, their concern should be with living, anyway.

Calli dug the finger of her still working hand into the old man’s thick coat.  The large black wolf whined low and licked her gently.  As if to comfort her.  As if to ask her to hold on.