You were a relatively normal person, you went to school, participated in relatively normal activities, and were concerned about relatively normal things. Perhaps many had called you talented, or special, an athlete or a prodigy. Being good at something is still normal, right.
When you woke up it was not normal. Not relatively, not figuratively, not even a little bit normal. A soft alarm sounded somewhere near your head, a steaming hiss brought you to life from a dreamless sleep, and as you opened your eyes you watched some kind of metallic hatch lift from just above your face, segmented pieces folding away to reveal a bright blue sky and your body clothed only in the barest of essentials.
The alarms stopped and you cautiously sat up from your supine position, the sounds of wildlife greeting your ears as dense jungle greeted your eyes. Many other pods were nearby, some of them already open, others sealed and seamless save a blinking green light at their base. A few others might even have been opening, their occupant’s faces those of strangers to you. As you looked down you saw the metal band on your left wrist, apparently solid and just loose enough to be comfortable but too tight to be removed. A single red dot blinked inexplicably upon its surface steadily.
You were a relatively normal person, but this was definitely not a normal situation.
~~~~~~
Hellooooo!
Thank you for reading. I have good hope for this rp, and I have a plan as well! This is a survival type rp Annasiel is helping me with where you might expect anything, but our characters have some restrictions!
Restriction 1: All characters must be between the ages of 14-18. I know sometimes we get tired of playing teenagers, but bear with me, it’s for plot.
Restriction 2: All characters need to be relatively normal, if you hadn’t guessed. Talented, smart, athletic, artistic, they can be special to a certain point. Realistically talented and realistically knowledgeable. Realistic.
Restriction 3: All characters must start somewhere within or shortly after the waking sequence above, to maintain continuity. Don’t worry, you won’t have to RP with yourself when you’re surrounded by an unknown environment.
And that’s actually it! Great, right? So, are you ready? Please, let’s have some fun!
I will guide the future by protecting those who cradle it in their hands and their minds. I will survive where others might fall. I am the torch that lights the way, the path ahead will be marked.
What are your goals for the future?:
I will guide the future by protecting those who cradle it in their hands and their minds. I will survive where others might fall. I am the torch that lights the way, the path ahead will be marked.
Name three items you own that you cannot live without:
My training. My knowledge. My hope.
Who would you say is your biggest role model and why?:
Miguel Alvarez always smiles when everyone else is very serious. I would like to smile so easily.
Anything else you would like to add?:
As the top graduate in my division I hereby declare that my wards will find the safest, most comfortable way of life under my care. By my life I will see that our future bears fruit.
The world is dangerous. People will hurt you, take from you. It is not safe to be alone. The lights hide the darkness behind them and the darkness claws for victims who have been shunned from the light. Power and money corrupt absolutely, man is monster when faced with tearful eyes.
Name: Alexis “Alex” Micheals
Age: 14
Description: A fair skinned girl with dirty blonde hair and soft blue eyes that reflect the fear in her mind almost constantly. Slight of frame and small in stature, her smaller frame lends itself to people assuming she is yoinger than she actually is.
Equipment: A backpack full of cobbled inventions and technology mostly scavenged from discarded and recycled goods. Her goggles are the most advanced technology she owns, with thermal and infrared filters, a digital interface that can connect with most modern devices as well as her own inventions, and a specially designed filter that Alex herself created to see the evb and flow of power through the cables and wires ran throughout the city. Most of her inventions veer away from digital displays or connectivity, her fear of being caught by mysterious somebodies through a digital link limiting her trust in connectivity.
History:
She hadn’t always been so desolate, so alone. At one time, in those early years, Alexis Martin had been loved, and comfortable. Her house had encouraged exploration, imagination, hope for the future and joy in creation. When Avus disappeared her parents had fought against their own despair and continued to praise their brilliant daughter’s growth and exploration. In spite of deepening lines on their faces, in the face of angered lenders and disappointed supervisors in positions they had never wanted to fill Alex’s parent’s would still smile and cheer when she would present them with a new gizmo or toy. They would discuss ways to improve her inventions, and would tuck her away in her soft bed with kisses and hugs.
When the lights went out in those days it was by her parent’s choice. The day that the lights went out on their own Alexis was left to fend for herself. She had ran, a sudden fear of that inky black driven home by her parent’s startled yelps that became smothered screams. The only mercy the shadows offered was the unknown, and that mercy soon became Alex’s disorder. The unknown was a constant, oppressive fear that only alleviated itself when her hands were busy disassembling and creating. Sometimes she found currency with those busy hands, other times she found trouble.
Time passed as busy hands whiled away the idle panic that permeated her life, every corner she turned she prepared to face her death and every shadow that lurked in the corner whispered of her impending reunion with her dear parents. No creation could dispel those fears, those darkened faces of dread and horror that flitted about her mind. It was fear that froze her, and fear that drove her, tearing her apart until all that was left was a mad little girl with a bag of toys.
Appearance: Though rarely seen but often dealt with, Snake Charmer is rumored to be of strong body, tall and lean with defined muscles and covered in a maze tattoos. He is often depicted wearing a hooded robe or tattered cloth that obscures his face. What he truly looks like remains a mystery to most, though it is likely he has intentions to change that.
Powers/Abilities: Originally a skilled magician and illusionist, what once had been slight of hand and misdirection has become something more visceral as Snake Charmer possesses the ability to create convincing hallucinatory illusions that incorporate any or all of the five senses, allowing him to effectively alter his target’s perception of the world. The more complex the illusions he casts the more concentration and effort he is required to expend. Despite this limitation he has a small following of loyal men and women who assist him in escaping complex situations in exchange for a potent combination of drugs and illusion he calls Dreambringing. Though few in number his Dreambringers are organized enough to assist Snake Charmer in many plots and ploys from afar, or allow him time to escape as they are captured or eliminated. It seems his network is always expanding in influence, the innate hunger for a better reality the only gateway he needs into the hearts of those he enthralls.
Appearance: Half caucasian, half Japanese, Nathaniel resembles his father mostly, though he is told his eyes are reminiscent of his mother. Though he is not overtly athletic his body is fit and toned from practicing jiujitsu and kendo with his grandfather.
Powers/Abilities: After years of training with his grandfather Nathaniel possesses considerable skill in both hand to hand combat and swordplay. After finding an old metal kabuki mask in his grandfather’s things strange coincidences involving the mask and other metal objects he touches have started happening. As yet unsure of what he is capable of, the idea to use what he suspects are newfound superpowers as a masked crime fighter is still only in its infancy.
Sometimes life as a bard can be lucrative. You spend your days carousing with lightly inebriated nobility and royalty and fancy parties where you’re presented with fine silks and gilded instruments to honor the beauty of your talent and your voice. You are fed the finest dishes for but a note, praised alongside the gods for a story sang for ages past, given credit for bringing the tales to life.
Sometimes jewels and coins fell into your hands, some given freely while others happened to disappear in your presence. Never too much, never enough for it to be more than an extravagant affair that went just a touch overboard. Nothing as dangerous as a royal heirloom, surely. Of course if that heirloom were found on your person you would be hung, disgraced at the very least, the golden life of riches and pleasure for the joy of music thrown to the gutters with the rats and waste.
Sometimes being a bard can be a pile of shit. You play in bars with the same joy you always did, but the ears are far more drunk and exponentially more violent than those classy noble dinners. They might shower you with drinks, but forget the mug. You may receive gifts of fruit and stone, but the food is spoiled and the rocks are hard and grey. Your instruments become targets, their value great enough for many to rob you blind.
Sometimes the way you look invited those rough, alcohol deafened men to make undesirable advances. You might decline politely, but they are strong, and numerous. One of them might try to grab you, or several of them as their desires flare with the addition of drink to the flames of lust already barely contained. If you could see the tavern keeper who allowed you to work for your room his eyes might quickly avert, and the strong arm hired to keep the tavern peaceful might watch with salacious enjoyment.
Sometimes a bard is forced to protect themselves, lethally. They might draw their blades and cut the men down, beat them savagely with nearly lost elven hand to hand techniques. They might remove the sources of indecent exposure, the grasping hands and other intrusive limbs from their owners. They might pay for their room with the dead men’s coin before moving onto the next city, before the wealthier residents realized how many of their fineries they thought locked away safe were discovered vanished.
She may not have fine silks and gilded instruments, but Alayavera Filigree survived as comfortably as her situation would allow, and when her mind was made up to find greener pastures it would not bode well for those in her way.
Weight: Appears between 72kg-77kg. Actual weight unconfirmed
Hobbies: See Appendix C (this will be a link)
(The information herein contained has been provided by the subject and is largely unverified.)
Catian Valor professes to being from another world, another reality he has since traveled from and through perhaps hundreds of other realities before appearing in ours. Elusive about personal questions relating to his past or his lineage, he has stated that he travels to worlds to maintain a balance, though the ambiguity of this supposed balance has not been cleared to date. According to the subject he will remain in this reality until such time as he fulfills his purpose and balances the universe and may travel on. The subject states that there have been occasions in which he spent the entire life of a universe unable to affect his mission, and only after its end was he able to move on.
Again it should be noted that the stories the subject tells are to be considered suspect at best, but several tests the subject consented to participating in have confirmed the existence of reality defying abilities such as: absurd superhuman physicality, shapeshifting or body morphing, matter manipulation, dimensional shifting and/or manipulation, and permeance at least equal to the stone apparently tied with the subject’s existence.
Related Anomalies
Access Containment File 3473: "The Stone and the Traveler" (Insert image of smooth, flat, round stone here)
Despite being in Foundation possession nearly since its inception, this seemingly innocuous rock was classified as a “Household” Anomaly in [Redacted] because of its iridescent sheen when handled and its apparent indestructible nature. Considered little more than a curiosity it often sat on desks as a paperweight, though fun to look at nothing else gleaned from its existence for many years.
Initially found by coal miners in the deepest layers of the Earth man had excavated to date, neither strength of arm nor machinery could put so much as a scratch upon the palm sized stone. In [Redacted] Agent [Redacted] revived attempts to damage the rock with more modern methods, and in later experiments even used other anomalies to try and alter its state or position. These investigations led to the discovery that the stone could only be moved by human intent, and was indeed indestructible. Furthermore illusory or even reality altering anomalies (a number of which are considered the most dangerous and classified) do not have an effect on the status of the stone. It seemed nothing could alter it’s existence, but that was not answer enough for Agent [Redacted].
[Warning: This file is currently under revision. Opening Read-Only view]
My name is Imir Sigmund Ragnulf,
I write this chronicle now, of my own volition with the recommendation of one Catian Valor, The Traveler. He informed me that such an endeavor would save much time, and time is something I consider quite precious. We always consider our time long until the end draws near, but that luxury of ignorance is one I have never been given.
I am the son of Sigmund Thornton Ragnulf and Nadira Al-Shadid, born on July 7th, 2005.
I am from a village in the wilds of Eastern Russia, hidden away and preserved from the trappings of time far more than one would expect in our modern world. We fetched our water from the river every morning, washed and sewed our clothes by hand, and did the things our ancestors did in the ways our ancestors had done, as it had been for countless generations. The Blooded would venture out during the warming seasons, sleds returning full of goods and oddities from the outside world, but none who had not reached their sixteenth year were allowed past the valley. We had a generator, though it was only used for ceremonies with limited fuel. Only the adults knew of the outside world.
Those of us who had not become men or women yet knew only the village, The Code, and our anticipation of our own Awakening Ritual to make us Blooded. Our grandparents would tell us of the legend behind the Ritual, the story that our great ancestors were the children of the wolf-god, and within our blood lies the blood of that same god. Prophecy told that the wolf-god’s children would devour the sun and the moon, and so they were hidden away, masked by mortal flesh, their blood given to the two clans that had founded our village. To protect his children the wolf-god gave them the Awakening Ritual, a ceremony that would bring their godly blood to bear and grant them power.
We all knew that they were just stories. The adults didn’t have any powers, and even they spoke of the ceremony as if it were little more than a graduation. It was our way to move forward, to finally see a world beyond the tiny bowl of our village and its woods. I waited for mine just like everyone else, even though there were running jokes that my Blood was already Awakened. I was born with these eyes, you see. A sign of holiness, according to our elders. A sign that the wolf in me is strong. The other kids interpreted it as a sign to hate me. I wanted nothing more than to leave the village and never return.
Most Awakenings involve the ceremony and a lot of drinking and feasting. Mine fell short of the latter two. My grandmother would later tell me the rest of our story, of how the wolf-god’s blood would change those of us who had strong amounts. How they would become strong, and fast, and their senses would sharpen. She told me of how they would become great beasts, of how their bodies would shift and change into the forms of massive wolves. She told me that every one of them died young, the god blood too strong for our mortal shells, the power burning through us like a campfire on a candle’s wick.
I tried to listen to their advice, tried to let the changes come and embrace the power that came with them. It was tradition that I go, venture out into the world I had so desperately craved. That was before I became a monster, before I had changed. I feared the outside, but my Clan was firm in their traditions. I was to venture into the world and become the man my village needed. They told me to look at my changing body as a gift. A gift that was killing me, that gave me an expiration date. Traditions don’t teach you how to console a wolf.
I spent the better part of a year trying to suppress the changes, at first failing miserably until one day I was able to keep the twisting of bone and joint from taking effect. My hair began losing color rapidly, my strength fading at first to human levels, my senses dulled once again. I had thought that I was winning the battle, reclaiming my life from the cursed blood in my veins. It wasn’t until I started feeling the weakness, the drain that brought me lower than my old self had been even as a child that I realized it was killing me faster.
I turned once, and it was an instant release. My strength returned, if greater than I had originally possessed then it wasn’t unappreciated. I could eat again, move again, and I was no longer on death’s door.
That was when I saw him. The Traveler, a man with hair as white as mine was becoming. I had thought he might have been like me, and went chasing after him mindlessly in the crowd of a city that made me feel like an ant. When I caught him he smiled, and he told me he was not. And then he told me he could take me to someone who could help.
The next thing I knew I was surrounded by darkness.