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Jun 17 2018, 12:02 AM


Celebrity Claim- Dave Franco

Full Name- Kevin Ford
Nicknames/Aliases- Kev
Age- 17
Date of Birth- March 4
Faction- New Mutants
Occupation- Student

Personality- To summarize Kevin's attitude in one short statement, withdrawn and unpleasant. When people meet him, he tends to be quite caustic right off the bat and does not pull any punches about how he feels regarding people. In essence, he doesn't like them, he doesn't like being around them, and he doesn't like them being around him. He seems almost desperate to maintain boundaries and barriers between himself and others, and with good reason. He does not want people to get close to him, because if they do, they will get hurt. He's always considered himself to be 'cursed', simply because no matter what, bad luck seems to follow him. He legitimately believes that he has some of the worst luck in the known universe, and the surfacing of his powers really drove home that belief, causing him to withdraw into himself even further and become quite insufferable at times.

Before his powers emerged he wasn't nearly as negative and aloof, he actually was closer to how a normal teen would act, except with a higher dose of angst than usual. He had a few friends, he even dabbled in the world of dating for a while, he had hobbies and interest and quiet aspirations for himself. He was never a peppy or optimistic child, but he certainly wasn't such a downer when he was younger either. Life just hasn't necessarily been kind to Kevin, and it manifests as a massive and ever growing chip on his shoulder.

He is not completely incapable of making friends, he's actually quite a lonely kid who wants to have people he can rely on, he just believes that he's doing everyone else a favor by distancing himself. If someone were to take the time to get under his skin and get to know him, they would find that he's capable of being quite considerate and thoughtful, but it takes a lot of effort on the other person's part, because he will try his damnedest to chase them off with his biting sarcasm and snark. When someone finally manages to get under Kevin's skin, they would quickly find out that he is a protector, a silent caretaker, and most of all a reliable rock for them to lean on. Only figuratively of course.

  • Art
  • Sculpting
  • People watching
  • Reading
  • Night walks
  • Animals
  • True Crime shows
  • Music
  • Large Crowds
  • People getting too close
  • Anti-mutant assholes
  • Not being able to taste food
  • Strong smells
  • Small spaces
  • Being hungry
  • Sharing a bedroom
  • Creative and artistic
  • Unshakable focus
  • Determined
  • Tends to isolate himself
  • Slightly agoraphobic and claustrophobic
  • Doesn't trust others easily
  • Permanent scowl

Power Name- Organic Decay
Description- Kevin has the incredible ability to decay, and eventually disintegrate, any and all organic matter with a single touch. With extended contact, he can turn anything organic to dust, and that includes people. His touch breaks down the binding forces between organic molecules, reducing it to dust in a matter of moments.

The speed that his touch effects matter is ultimately decided by a number of factors. If Kevin were to accidentally brush against something and actively focus on not decaying whatever it was he touched, the damage done would be reduced, although if he happened to touch a person, or someone were to accidentally touch him, his touch would still cause immense and immediate pain and even a small wound if contact were maintained for more than a few seconds. If he were to be actively trying to use his powers though, decay would begin immediately. This is the only ounce of control he has when it comes to his power. Another point about his mutation that shames him to no end is that Kevin gets a form of satisfaction from using his power, which frightens him greatly. It make shim feel better and it makes him feel more 'whole' when he uses it, so he's figured out that using his power is essential for his survival, even if he hates using it.

Limits-Most unfortunately, Kevin's powers are completely involuntary. Try as he might to reign in and control them, there is no complete off switch to be found. His power is immense and highly dangerous already, and the fact that he can't negate it without physical barriers makes him more of a threat. Anything organic that comes into direct contact with his body will immediately start to decay, be it food, fabric, animals, or even people. His mutation is always active, even if he's asleep or unconscious.

One of the more distressing aspects of this power is the fact that it wants to be used. In most of his waking moments, Kevin feels compelled to use his powers. He interprets this compulsion as similar to feeling hunger, and it's an accurate description considering his power is the only way he can absorb essential nourishment, and he's discovered over time that using his power does indeed provide him with some kind of sustenance. He cannot eat in the way a normal person would anymore, because the food simply turns to ash in his mouth. Instead, if he holds food in his hands and allows it to completely decay, he feels the same sensation a person would after eating. This is an extremely uncomfortable thing for him to do around others, so he will never take meals with other people in the room. He is also very unwilling to use his powers period, so he's almost always feeling this 'hunger' nag at him in the back of his mind.

When the hunger becomes too great, a secondary aspect of his power will emerge, and he will begin to see things in a decayed state. The world around him will become nightmarish and rotten, very similar to something out of a horror movie. The more he uses his power, the more the world looks normal, which adds to his belief that his power actively wants to be used.

Potential Power- Enhanced/Peak Human Condition
Description- Kevin does not know this about himself yet, but the reason his powers want to be used is because his body is craving nourishment and energy it can't get any other way. Essentially, Kevin is almost always in a constant state of starvation because he refuses to use his powers. If he were to decay enough organic material, his body would be brought up to 'full speed' and would no longer crave energy. It would be almost like a battery needing to be recharged, and when it's at full capacity it performs at its best.

If Kevin were to ever absorb a large enough amount of energy, he would achieve a form of peak human condition and would be able to maintain it for upwards of an hour, depending on how rigorously he was exerting himself end expending energy. The proper amount of organic material required for Kevin to reach this state would be the equivalent of one adult human equal to a bare minimum of his own body weight. He would be required to completely drain, therefore kill, an adult human being or an animal/plant of equivalent weight. Currently Kevin would only have to wither 135 pounds worth of material, but if he were to start gaining weight back and becoming more healthy, the weight requirement would increase to match. Once his body is 'fully charged' his power would finally become inactive and he would be able to touch organic material with no ill effect, until his body got low on reserves and he would have to start charging back up.

On a full charge, Kevin would acquire the following abilities

Enhanced Strength- Kevin's strength would increase exponentially and he would be able to lift a maximum of 900 pounds. This strength would evenly distribute throughout his body to his jumping height, leaping distance, and strike force would increase as well. He would be able to achieve a 7 foot vertical jump and a 15 foot leap with a running start.
Peak Human Durability- Kevin's body would reach peak durability levels for a human being, allowing him to take multiple hits in a fight without much cause for concern.
Enhanced Speed- Kevin will be able to run much faster than the average human and reach maximum speeds of 30 miles per hour for a short sprint. Long distance he slower at about 20 miles per hour
Enhanced Healing- Kevin will be able to heal much faster than normal, at about 10 times the normal rate. Large and serious wounds would still need attention, but not as much as he would if he weren't at a full charge.

Skills & Abilities- Kevin is a gifted artist and is capable of producing beautiful pieces. He much prefers sculpting and working with scrap material, because he doesn't run the risk of decaying those things when he touches them, but he is also quite good with drawing and other mediums, but he is hindered a bit because he will sometimes have to wear gloves to handle the materials, which makes it a bit more awkward since he doesn't have full dexterity in his hands.

Height- 5'8”
Weight- 135 lbs
Eye Colour- Brown
Hair Colour- Brown

Appearance- Kevin's appearance can be quite severe and intimidating for people who don't know him. He wears mostly dark colors so he tends to stick out a bit among a crowd. He's almost never without his favorite faux leather jacket, it being one of the few things he was able to keep from his old wardrobe. On any given say, the only bots of skin Kevin has exposed are his head and neck, he carefully makes sure every other part of his body is covered by cloth, including his hands. While this might not be all that uncommon, what really makes Kevin stand out is the ever present scowl that mars his otherwise rather boyish face.

While he still retains a youthful appearance, it's slowly becoming apparent that stress is aging him. Dark circles are present under his eyes and small frown lines are forming around the corners of his eyes and mouth. It's apparent that he's lost a bit of weight recently as well, and while he can't be considered gaunt just yet, he's quickly approaching that category.

Kevin looks almost exactly like his father, with strong masculine features and thick brows, though all through his childhood he was told he had his mother's smile. When his scowl finally melts away, he's got a billion dollar smile that shows off every tooth.

Gear- Kevin always has a pair of gloves on him, and he's usually always wearing them.

Additional Information- Kevin lost his ability to eat food, and he misses being able to taste things. He will sometimes take walks by restaurants and bakeries just to smell everything that's being cooked there, because smelling it is almost as good as tasting it, and he gets so desperate at times it's all he can do to not break down emotionally over how hungry he is and how reluctant he is to actually sustain himself the only way his powers will allow.

Hometown- Atlanta, Georgia
Immediate Family- Trevor Ford (father, deceased), Angela Ford (mother, deceased)
Others- None aside from a few old friends and an ex-girlfriend he left behind.

History- Kevin Ford always believed himself to be cursed, only because no matter where he went, some kind of bad luck would always follow him. It all started the day he was born, when Angela Ford went into labor everything seemed fine and normal. Kevin emerged into the world as most babies do, scrunched up and angry and screaming his little lungs out. There was nothing to be concerned about, except little Kevin would not stop crying. It was almost as if his rage was a warning of what was about to happen, a form of outrage that neither his parents or doctors understood. An outrage about only getting to hug his mother once before she passed away right there in the birthing suite.

Kevin never got to know his mother, not on a personal level anyway. Growing up he was told stories of how wonderful she was, he was shown pictures and old home videos, and every time Trevor Ford made his son laugh, the man could only sit back and marvel at the tiny human that sit before him, because while the boy was like a miniature version of Trevor, Angela always made her contribution known when Kevin smiled and laughed.

Getting Kevin to laugh, that was the actual miracle. The boy was always so stoic and down to earth, Trevor had to wonder where his son had gotten that particular trait from. The boy always looked at the world with such a sincere kind of curiosity, he had a hard time making friends at first. It really wasn't until Kevin was put into pre-school that he really learned how to interact with other children, and that's also when his back luck started to pick up again. He did well enough in school, his growth and learning rates were all right where they should have been, but it was almost every other week that Kevin would come home with a story of how something unfortunate had happened at school, be it another student accidentally tipped a tray of pain over onto Kevin's favorite shirt or the teacher happened to run out of Kevin's favorite kind of snack just as it was his turn to pick out what he wanted.

It was all quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but to a young kid, things like that were important. Trevor couldn't help but smile at his son's serious face whenever the boy would lament his bad luck, he just knew that these kinds of things happened and that was what life was all about. Kevin would grow and realize that you had to take the bad with the good, hand in hand and that everything evened out.

Except as Kevin aged, Trevor was slowly realizing that his son may have been onto something. Kevin really did have rotten luck. The poor kid broke two bones in elementary school while playing on play yard equipment, both times the incidents were deemed freak accidents. There would be no fault on anyone's part, just old equipment failing in a way that not even the people who designed it could have predicted.

Trevor was thankful though, that Kevin was finally able to find a small group of friends to run with. He'd always been so introverted and determined he worried his son would never really find any other children his age that understood him. Kevin always had preferred to hang around older children, but understandably, older kids didn't want to hang out and play with a 'baby'.

Kevin's childhood was otherwise unremarkable. Sure there was the occasional injury or illness or random act of God that seemed to mark Kev as its victim, but Trevor hoped that he'd taught his son how to take it in stride and laugh at how funny life could be instead of being bitter about it. His efforts were only half successful.

Upon getting into high school, Kevin seemed to flourish a little more, opening up to be accepted into a small friend group and even taking an interest in girls. Trevor was insanely happy for his son, because for a while he really didn't think he'd be able to parent by himself.

When Kevin brought his girlfriend Emma home for the first time to meet his father, he didn't know what to expect, but her certainly didn't expect a small electrical fire caused by an ancient blender to interrupt the dinner that Kevin had spent nearly a week stressing over. All Kevin could do was shake his head while his father laughed it off, and Emma stood by, confused as to what was so funny. Kevin explained in all seriousness that he had the worst luck in the world, which only caused Trevor to laugh louder while the older man took inventory of the damages.

Kevin really expected Emma to bail after that, but she took it in stride. He knew she didn't really believe him, but she'd find out soon enough. He had a reputation amongst his friend group as being a walking disaster, hopefully Emma would be able to weather the storm.

She did, for a while, until she decided that things with Kevin just 'weren't working'. Kevin didn't really know what that meant, and he'd of course asked her if there was anything he could have done to fix whatever problems she was having, but teen girls were weird in the sense that they never knew what they wanted. Kevin felt happy at least that the breakup hadn't been explosive like so many he'd seen his friends go through, and he figured maybe his luck was starting to shift from being 'the worst' to just being 'kind of bad'.

He was dead wrong.

Two weeks after the breakup, Kevin woke up one morning and tried to get ready for school, the key word being tried. Everything he put on started to disintegrate and fall apart as soon as he put it on, and thinking he was having some kind of weird nightmare he yelled for his father in a panic.

Trevor rushed in, worried about what all the noise was about, because Kevin almost never yelled or got scared like that. He entered his son's room to see Kevin half dressed with a shirt coming apart across his chest and without even thinking, he grabbed his son by the shoulders to ask him what was wrong. Kevin in return grabbed his father's arms in a panic and violently jerked away when the older man started screaming and convulsing, pulling away from Kevin as though he'd been burned. Kevin reached out to grab his father's shoulder and his screams soon joined Trevor's when he realized that now his father was decaying and disintegrating.

It was a horrible thing to watch, his father twitching and whimpering in agony and then falling completely silent, his arms and the majority of one of his shoulders rotted away to dust. He tried to make sense of it, he really did, but anytime he tried to check his father or move him or help him, the whole awful process would start all over again and wouldn't stop until Kevin stopped touching him.

Kevin had searched through his wardrobe for anything that didn't immediately disintegrate when he touched it, and once he found an outfit and a few personal items and extra clothes, he ran out of the house in a blind panic. He didn't stop walking until he found himself at the scrapyard outside of town.

It was there that he slowly started figuring out the logistics of what was happening to him. He wasn't a scientist, but he was a smart kid, and it didn't take much for him to figure out that by touching certain materials, he could destroy them. The was able to figure out that if it was organic, it would decay, but if it was inorganic, it would be fine. He didn't have the smarts to identify materials on sight however, so he started wearing a pair of gloves he found in a workshop that didn't disintegrate when he put them on.

He started staying in a small abandoned guard shack on the edges of the junk yard, only venturing out during the day to try and get food, but he soon found out that he couldn't eat either, because as soon as the foot went into his mouth and he started chewing it turned to a disgusting dusty substance. He was thankful though when he found he could still drink water, so at least dehydration wasn't going to be anb immediate issue.

He stayed in the junkyard for a few weeks, trying to figure out what to do and coming up with no answer. He'd tried to read newspapers about the case of his dad's death, but as far as he could tell, no one could figure out what happened. How was he supposed to come clean about something like that? How could he turn himself in and admit to the world at large that he was some kind of monster? He wasn't a monster, it was an accident, but with all the anti-mutant sentiment running rampant, no one would understand that or believe him. He'd be strung up and dangling from the nearest tree before he got any kind of fair treatment, so he decided he had to leave as soon as possible. Get away from Atlanta and away from Georgia as a whole.

The only one that would miss him was the stray dog that had liven in the junkyard, and even when he'd tried to say goodbye to the mutt, things had gone terribly wrong.

He'd crouched down, intent to just give the dog a scratch behind the ear with a gloved hand, but the dog had other things in mind. It was such a sweet dog, despite not having any owner and not being raised around people, it just really liked affection, and when it lunged in to nuzzle its face against Kevin's, he yelled and tried to stop it, but it was too late.

By the time he was able to get the dog off of him, the poor thing's face was half gone and it was crying so pitifully he had to put it out of its misery. He liked to think he'd done it quickly, because it only took a few seconds of contact with his ungloved hand for the thing to fall silent and still.

He left that very night, jumping on the first bus out of town he could find.

He'd heard a lot about New York, there was even a little town for mutants there. Maybe there was someone there who could help him.

Player Name- Noiz
Age 28
How Can We Contact- PM, Skype, Discord
Time Zone- Eastern
How did you find us? I was given the secret invite code
Other Characters- Boom Boom, Nightmare, DJ

Role Play Sample- The bus hadn't exactly been the most comfortable or logical choice for him, but he needed to get away, and he needed to get away fast. Living in a scrapyard in Georgia wasn't doing him any good, he needed to get away from the heat and the junk and the memories. Mostly the memories, everything else was an annoyance compared to the memories.

His father's anguished and confused screams still echoed in his head in the worst moments, sometimes accompanied by the yelps of a junkyard dog who just wanted a bit of affection. He hated himself, he truly hated himself for all that he'd done. The curse of rotten luck he'd carried around his whole life had decided to intensify upon itself until it took everything from him, until it left him, curled up in the back of a grimy bus bound for who knew where.

He tugged his jacket tighter around himself and huffed a discontented breath as the bus lurched and rocked, the movements becoming rhythmic for him over the past twenty four hours. He'd had to breathe himself down from several anxiety attacks when someone tried to sit with him, but he found that if he looked harshly enough and refused to move, people would move back to the front of the bus and leave the weird kid alone in the back.

Just leave the weird kid alone.

Leave him alone and you won't get hurt.

He can't hurt you if you stay away from him and leave him alone.

Kevin looked down at his cell phone, reading and rereading text messages he'd gotten over the past few weeks. His friends, ex-friends now, wondering where he was, what had happened to his dad, asking him if he was okay. His girlfriend, his ex-girlfriend for a while actually, begging him to call her, begging him to just let her know he was okay. He'd followed through with none of the requests, and as the weeks went on, they slowed to a crawl, and eventually stopped coming altogether, and it made a painful clench in his chest release. They weren't worried about him anymore, either because they'd forgotten or because they forced themselves to stop caring. He'd never get the opportunity to ask them which it was, he'd already decided he wasn't going to speak to any of them ever again.

His gloved hands clumsily struggled with the phone screen and he grit his teeth in annoyance. The bus's intercom system crackled to life after a few moments and he rolled his dark eyes upward away from the screen, the bags under them all the more prominent now that his face was illuminated by the phone's back light. The driver's irritated voice announced that they would be arriving in New York City within the next few minutes, and drolled on through all the departing rules and regulations for what Kevin felt was the thousandth time.

When the bus finally pulled into the terminal and the other passengers started departing, Kevin waited until they were all toward the front of the vehicle before he even rose from his seat and threw his backpack over his shoulder with a grimace. All of his limbs were cramps from being hunched up for so long, but it was all he could do to make sure he occupied as small of a space as possible. His joints creaked as he made his way up front, slowly and deliberately, drawing the attention of the driver. The older man raised a hand to usher Kevin off the bus in a speedier manner, an action that caused Kevin to spring away when the driver's hand almost brushed the sleeve of Kevin's jacket. “Come on son, hurry it up-”

“Don't. TOUCH. Me.” Kevin hissed viciously, backing his way down the steps while glaring pure fire and hatred at the bus driver. The older man looked confused for a moment, then returned the younger man's anger in turn.

“Listen here-”

“Don't go grabbing at minors or I'll get your fuckin' boss over here faster than you can blink.” Kevin's voice was harsh and raspy from lack of use, his Georgia accent still a little thick, but the threat hung heavy in the air as he sent one last glare at the driver before turning tail and hightailing it through the station and out onto the street.

Crowded. It was too crowded. He needed a city map or something, if only to figure out how to get to the small sanctuary dubbed Mutant Town. Surely he'd be able to just fade into obscurity there, no one would question a young transient man in New York City after all.
Jan 12 2018, 07:18 PM


Celebrity Claim- Ezra Miller

Full Name- Mark Sheppard
Nicknames/Aliases- Marko, Deej
Age- 19
Date of Birth- January 3
Faction- X-Men Blue, arrived July 2010
Occupation- Currently unemployed (again), looking for a part time job

Personality- Mark Sheppard is a man who cannot make up his mind to save his life. He's known to be incredibly flaky when it comes to decision making, almost as though the idea of devoting his attention and committing to something frightens him. Most assumed he would have grown out of this as he approached adulthood, but sadly little progress was made. He's spent most of his teen years in a state of flux, drifting from one thing to the next without being able to stick with much of anything. In fact, one of the only things that's remained a real constant for him are the X-Men and the relationships he's forged there. With all of that said though, he's not a bad person at all, and his heart is always in the right place. He cares deeply for the causes he chooses to fight for, and in all reality, the X-Men are the realest and most stable things to him.

When it gets down to brass tacks though, if it comes down to X-Men business, he becomes all business. He takes his duties to the school seriously and if the Professor or any of his fellow mutants require his assistance in any way he's there through the thick of everything. He's been told multiple times if he could apply the same kind of loyalty and devotion to other aspects of his life he would have a much easier time, but he still hasn't been able to really grasp the concept.

He is thankfully able to make friends easily and possesses an insane amount of charisma with the added bonus of knowing how to apply said charisma to most social situations without much effort. Mark is a very laid back individual and prefers to watch the world turn around him rather than participating in the hectic rotations of the planet and the people that occupy it. He's a fairly easy person to talk to and he prides himself on being a good listener, even if he may not always be able to give good advice. He's a deeply caring individual, and is not afraid to offer assistance whenever he sees someone in need. This quality extends far beyond simple everyday tasks as well, and it's not uncommon to hear of Mark taking care of someone when they're sick or going through a rough patch. He isn't afraid of or repulsed by the ugly parts of caring for someone, and that stems from a childhood full of taking care of an alcoholic father.

He was voted the biggest flirt in his class when he was still in school, and this hasn't changed about him at all. He will charm almost anyone he's remotely interested in, which has left a trail of short lived relationships and flings in his wake. He knows he's broken a few hearts along the way, but he's never felt ready to settle down and start something serious and he's always upfront and honest about that. In fact, honesty is another one of Mark's redeeming qualities, he's never really seen the point in lying to people when it comes to feelings and everyday life things.

  • Music (all types)
  • Girls (all types) maybe guys too, he doesn't know anymore
  • Dancing
  • Fresh cookies
  • Kissing
  • Going on walks
  • Smoking (no, not cigarettes)
  • Indian food
  • Kissing, seriously he can't get enough
  • Afternoon naps
  • Math
  • Girls/guys that get too serious too fast
  • Silence
  • Dry toast
  • Bus trips
  • People who communicate in only emojis
  • Horror anything
  • Sleeping alone
  • The dark
  • Scratchy blankets
  • Incredible focus
  • Great sense of humor
  • Charismatic
  • Lacks motivation
  • Afraid of the dark
  • Tends to be too laid back

Power Name- Acoustic Eclectic Mimicry
Description- Mark's powers are incredibly unique in the sense that they are so diverse. He possesses the ability to essentially use different types of music to give himself powers, with different effects surfacing depending on what style of music he is currently listening to. He is in full control of his current powers, though if a new ability were to crop up he would have to train that ability in order to fully harness it. He acquired his abilities at different times, and though he finds it simple enough to reign in a new power when it crops up, there is a learning curve that requires him to fine tune the small nuances and quirks a power comes with before he can use the power in an active situation. This also means, if a new ability surfaces, he will not listen to that genre of music until he has that power under his total control, for fear of accidentally using the power associated with it.

Mark's current list of powers, from oldest to newest include

PhotokinesisDance - The first power Mark ever knew he had, was the ability to create blinding and flashing lights. It's not an offensive power at all, as the lights create no heat or any kind of force, but they are versatile enough to provide a temporary light source as well as create a disorienting distraction. The lights do not stay for longer than several seconds, so he cannot maintain them constantly but his is able to create them one after the other and in quite rapid succession. While he cannot make them stay for long periods of time, he can control their intensity and even their color, though he has trouble making the lights pink for some reason.

Force FieldsClassical – This power emerged shortly after Photokinesis, and is one of Mark's favorites to use in combat situations. Mark's force fields are quite useful and efficient in providing cover for himself and his teammates, as well as being capable of a few more out of the box functions. The fields themselves appear as translucent blue with a soft glow to them, so it's always obvious when he's using them. The most impressive thing the fields are capable of is forming a protective dome around a small area with Mark at the center, with the highest point of the dome reaching about six and a half feet high and the dome expands roughly five feet on all sides. Depending on the size and height of the people he's trying to protect in the dome, they may or may not have to stoop down or even kneel to be protected. More commonly though, Mark will form smaller shield like constructs and use the fields that way, as this method requires less concentration and allows him to be mobile. The force field is not impervious to all damage however, and repeated hits from anything like high powered guns and heavy blunt damage will shatter them, though Mark can usually tell when the field is going to break long before it actually does. The biggest blunt impact a force field has survived was a simulated car collision at sixty miles per hour. Things with a heavier hitting power will crack or outright shatter them, depending on how much more powerful it is. Firearms are more of a concern for Mark, and the largest caliber bullet they've been able to stop came from a stander issue police sniper rifle, and the field didn't necessarily deflect the bullet, the bullet pierced the field and got stuck, then the field subsequently shattered. If he is not making a dome, he is capable of making two fields at a time. These fields can also support weight for a brief period, and he has used them as makeshift platforms, though significant amounts of weight will shatter them. The most weight he's ever put onto them is about 500 pounds and it held alright, but Mark could feel the strain and knew it couldn't hold much more. He's come to conclusion that they fields are more effective at absorbing force rather than lifting weight. Mark has also experimented with incorporating his force fields into hand to hand combat, using them to strengthen blows and add extra padding while blocking oncoming strikes.

FlightGospel – This power is probably Mark's all-time favorite, because let's be real, flying is awesome. Mark's top flight speed has clocked in at around 200 miles per hour, so he's not incredibly speedy and his flight is not great for long distance travel, but he enjoys it greatly. It's the power he had the easiest time getting a grip on, but he thanks the multiple people at the school that also fly, without their assistance he probably would have had a much tougher time. When using this power, his body goes through several changes, which are invisible to any observer, but Mark feels a notable difference. His body lightens considerably, and his inner ear adapts to be able to handle the sudden changes in pressure and altitude. His lungs and respiratory system adapt to be able to take in more air and handle the high speeds he achieves during flight, his eyes however, still need protection from the harsh winds he encounters and he needs to wear a pair of goggles to protect his eyes. While his body adapts to be better for flying, he's not immune to the effects of significant impact, and he needs to be careful not to hit anything, or let anything hit him, while he's in the air.

Concussive BlastsRock – This is the power Mark relies on when hand to hand combat isn't an option. These blasts are a good alternative when his force fields are proving to be ineffective or impractical, or when he just flat out needs to finish a fight by pure dominating force. These blasts manifest themselves as an aggressive and bright fuchsia aura around his hands that shoot off into bolts of concussive energy at Mark's command. There is no recharge time to speak of, but he cannot fire the blasts as a continuous beam, they can only come out as quick bursts. The blasts are pretty damaging in force, able to knock a normal human off their feet and into serious pain with just one hit, and the heat they give off is enough to cause burns if someone is hit multiple times with them. This does not indicate that the blasts are fire or radiation related, but the pure energy they are made from does produce heat. While these powers are active, Mark is still able to use his hands with no ill effect from the aura surrounding them, he can still touch people without hurting them and has full function, they just happen to be glowy and surrounded by an agitated looking energy. These blasts can be used to wear down defenses with repeated attacks and can break through some steel and other sturdy materials, but they aren't all powerful and there are things that cannot be damaged by his blasts, no matter how many times he hits them. Something mildly frightening to note is, if Mark uses his blasts rapid fire for a long duration, the aura around his hands will spread up his arms and across his torso, and his eyes will even begin to glow the same shade of fuchsia.

HealingBlues – When this power developed, Mark was both pleased and terrified. He was happy to be able to help contribute more to the team as a whole and be something more than just a combatant, but the responsibility of being a designated healer still weighs heavily on his mind when he chooses to play that role. It is critical to know though, that his healing powers are touch based and only work when he's in physical contact with the injured party. His healing powers work incredibly well, and cause no life threatening ill effect to him, though it does cause exhaustion and a heavy depletion of Mark's resources, meaning it burns insane amounts of calories that he needs to replenish almost immediately after the power is used, but the power definitely has its limits. It only works on injuries and some illnesses, and while it works incredibly fast, he has to be able to get to an injured person before they die. He's capable of bringing people back from the brink, but once they pass, resuscitation measures must be taken, and if those efforts are successful, Mark can step in and try his hand. Mark has the added benefit of not having to know what kind of damage he's dealing with, he just needs to touch them, meaning skin to skin. The more contact there is, the more effective he can be, because his power spreads from the point of contact, so the larger the area, the more quickly it will work. His healing normally results in minimal scarring, but if the injury is deep and severe, scars will still appear, though they will be greatly reduced than if a normal doctor were to treat them. He is able to completely heal most injuries, though if the injury results in instant death, there is nothing he can do. He cannot completely replace muscles and organs, though if even a shred of said muscle or organ still exists, he can regenerate it back from that. This does not apply to limbs though, so sorry amputees, Mark can only seal the wound, not give you your limb back.

When it comes to illnesses, he can cure many of them, but there are some he just can't get rid of. Things like cancer, HIV/AIDS, any kind of major poisoning, or degenerative diseases, he cannot help with. This is a major disappointment to him, as he wanted his healing powers to be more effective and he wanted to be able to help more people, but he's accepted that he'll take what he can get and do what he can with his gift. The biggest downfall to this power though, is Mark cannot heal himself. When these powers activate, Mark's body itself takes on a very soft seafoam colored glow, and when his powers start working on a wound, the wound will glow more intensely the same color. He feels a gentle warmth wherever his skin comes into contact with his patient's skin, and he's been told by his previous patients that the sensation his healing causes is a gentle, vibrating, numbing tingle that radiates outward from where they're being touched and settles more intently on where they're being healed. It has been said that it can be a little uncomfortable depending on where the healing is taking place, such as head wounds and very deep wounds, but he's never had anyone tell him it's painful before, and he's very happy about that.

ChronokinesisTechno - The most recent power he's discovered, Mark has the ability to form a time stasis field in his immediate vicinity. The field does not extend more than four feet in any given direction, and does not stay in one place, meaning if he moves, the field moves with him. It's the power that frightens him the most out of all of them, because the idea of stopping time, even in such a small space, seems high unnatural and wrong to him. It takes a lot of concentration to maintain the field, so he can't focus on other complex tasks whilst using this power. He cannot pick and choose what is and isn't hit with the stasis field, so anything within his very limited radius is stopped when the field is activated, he is the only thing that is not stopped. He hasn't had the opportunity to use this power outside of Danger Room training, but he is comfortable enough to put together a techno playlist and leave the power open as an option.

Limits- The simplest way to break down the biggest flaw in Mark's abilities can be stated in four words. No music, no powers. If anything were to happen to stop the music, whatever aspect of his powers were active would fizzle out and stop working within seconds. This is particularly dangerous in several situations, such as when he is flying or when he is trying to heal someone. The best way he has found to combat this major weakness is to avoid earbuds at all costs whilst on a mission, since they are too easy to fall out or be yanked out of his ears.

Lack of listening device is not the only thing that can bungle his power set however. If something were to happen to his hearing, his powers would not become active, even if music were to be playing. He must be able to hear the music for his powers to work, which makes him increasingly concerned because he's developed a case of tinnitus that he cannot seem to shake. This has caused him to start listening to his music louder, which he knows could potentially make his condition worse but it's the only way he can drown out the ringing in his ears and use his powers effectively.

It's also worth noting, that his powers only respond to fully composed songs, and not just noises that happen to carry a tune. If he were to be caught without any way to listen to music, his problems would not be solved by just belting out his favorite gospel song and flying away. Humming, whistling, beat-boxing, a capella singing, none of it seems to trigger his powers.

Another big weakness for Mark is that he has to change the type of music he's listening to in order to swap powers, which is a hassle in heavy combat situations. If he's able to remove himself from combat long enough to get his next genre booted up he can manage just fine, but if there is no break in battle he cannot power swap. Mark has discovered that sometimes he must just assign himself to a role in a fight or training simulation and stick to it, be it the healer, the fighter, or the aerial support, sometimes he just can't catch a break to swap roles.

Skills & Abilities- Mark has a good amount of training in hand to hand combat that he's learned in his time at Xavier's. His fighting style heavily favors throwing and grappling his opponents, that doesn't mean he can't throw a punch or a kick, though he prefers to restrain and subdue rather than do potentially heavier damage by striking. He's not a pacifist by any means, but if an opponent can be subdued and restrained, he would rather do that than risk putting them through unnecessary injury and pain by hitting them. If an opponent is deemed too dangerous and must be taken down however, he will fall back on strikes, favoring kicks to punches.

Mark also has a bit of musical talent, mainly with guitar and it's not uncommon to find him sitting off somewhere playing around with his old and beat up acoustic. He bought it from a pawn shop when he first came to the mansion and with the power of books and various Youtube videos, has figured out how to play. He has various other skills that he's learned from other people at the mansion, including how to do general maintenance on a car, basic wilderness survival, and the ability to perform odds and ends handyman work. He tends to pick up a skill from everyone he gets close to, so her labels himself a jack of all trades, definitely a master of none though, because with all the skills he's acquired, he's still perfectly capable of being stumped once things get too complicated.

He's held a handful of part time jobs, including working retail and food service, so he's gotten good at dealing with and calming down people who are upset and can work his way around a kitchen, provided the recipe is familiar to him and isn't overly complicated.

Height- 5'10”
Weight- 160 lbs
Eye Colour- Brown
Hair Colour- Dark brown/Black

Appearance- In his own opinion, Mark is your essential boy next door. Nothing spectacularly outstanding about him, he just kind of exists and occupies space. He firmly believes that when it comes to appearances, he is the definition of average, and he doesn't complain about it one bit. He's had other people tell him he's unconventionally attractive, which is a weird compliment that he doesn't quite understand, but he takes it graciously nonetheless.

He has strong and angular features that somehow combine with a boyish face and how mature he looks is directly related to how recently he's shaved. His hair is a mop of dark curls that he has an insanely hard time managing, and he never schedules regular haircuts, so he will usually let his hair get ridiculously long before someone finally convinces him it's time to trim back the mane.

His clothing choice is questionable on average, because Mark is the guy that thinks skinny jeans with blazers look cool. He really doesn't fit into any style category that he's aware of, he just pick out clothes that he thinks are okay and wears them. So his wardrobe is eclectic and scattered, but much to the surprise of people who know him, he never leaves his room looking utterly ridiculous. He at least has the sense to dress in clothes that fit his lean muscled frame.

The only constant thing about his wardrobe is the set of headphones that are resting either around his neck or firmly over his ears.

Gear- Mark is never without his headphones, and he always carries with him some kind of music playing device. He owns several old MP3 players and iPods, all filled to the brim with music, and he always has at least one of them in his pocket. He also will use his phone as a backup if his other devices get damaged, but he prefers not to rely on his phone, due to battery and lack of storage space. He always has a pair of earbuds in his pocket, even though he hates them, just in case of an extreme emergency and his regular headphones break. He also has an official X uniform that comes with everything he would need in accompaniment to his powers that he wears on the rare occasions that he has a mission, but it doesn't get used often.

Additional Information- Mark has a number of strange phobias that he can't explain, including an intense fear of the dark, fear of the dentist, fear of deep water, and the extreme inability to handle horror material. He will be the one screaming like a little girl in a crowded movie theater and is the type to run up the stair after turning the lights off because he assumes whatever is in the dark is chasing him. It's not unheard of to see Mark wandering down to the kitchens late at night for a snack with his phone lighting the way and his blanket wrapped firmly over his shoulders for protection.

He also greatly enjoys attending poetry readings, flea markets, and adores thrifting.

Hometown- Bluewater Village, Michigan
Immediate Family- Louis Sheppard (father), Greta Sheppard (mother, deceased)
Others- Aside from the people at the mansion, Mark hasn't had the best luck maintaining close friendships.

History- Tale as old as time, boy meets girl, they fall in love, they get married and live happily ever after. At least, that's how it happens in the story books, and for Louis and Greta, it seemed that their life was set to go down in fairy tale history. Greta and Louis loved each other, that much was for certain. They were giddy like teenagers on their wedding day and that bliss continued through the years of their marriage, only increasing at the birth of their first and only child.

Mark Sheppard was doted on by both of his parents, they loved him, and he loved them, and their family was something out of a Hallmark film. Everything was perfect, from their perfect little house to their perfect little family portraits. Mark was a bright and friendly child, though he was constantly scolded for his inability to focus on tasks that didn't immediately capture his attention or hold his interest. His mother described him as 'full of piss and vinegar' all the time, his father was proud of his son's boundless energy, but wished the boy would just reign it in and direct it once in a while. Despite this, Mark was always generally well behaved, much to his parent's delight.

Like most good things however, their perfection came to an abrupt and rather heart wrenching end when Greta suddenly fell ill one winter. Everyone thought it must be a cold, there was a nasty bug going around, but when she just couldn't seem to shake it she finally relented and went to the doctor, where she was diagnosed with pneumonia. People in her age group normally have an easy enough time overcoming the disease, and she'd always been healthy, so she was under the impression that being admitted to the hospital was perhaps a bit much but she couldn't argue with an expert and followed doctors orders. She felt awful but she was confident that she would be out of the hospital in a few days and back home with her family.

Such a small percentage of people die from the disease, no one saw her death coming.

Poor Mark, being only eight years old at the time, was at an age where he understood the finality of death but wasn't mature enough to grasp that life isn't fair. He struggled with the death of his mother and became sullen, losing the spark that everyone had come to expect from him. If Greta's death devastated Mark, it utterly destroyed Louis.

The man had always been a casual drinker, but with the death of his wife his habit spiraled out of control, and within a few short years he had developed a full blown problem. He felt like an absolute failure, his wife was gone and his son had withdrawn and hardly spoke to anyone. He didn't understand how he was supposed to raise Mark without Greta, and even though he tried to maintain the facade of normalcy and maintain a stable home, Louis started poring drinks earlier and earlier. Soon, instead of being able to pick his son up from school, the boy would either have to walk or take the bus because Louis was too intoxicated to even get the car started. Mark was too wrapped up in his own grieving to see how his own father was struggling, and was too young to really even realize what was happening. Slowly, he learned how to pick up his father's slack and maintain the house to an acceptable level.

Try as the young boy might, his efforts weren't strong enough for the change to go unnoticed by teachers and other school staff. Where Mark used to be a well kept and and healthy boy, teachers noticed him getting thinner and more tired, and his clothes always appeared to have been improperly laundered and his overall appearance started to scream 'neglect' by the time he reached middle school. Counselors stepped in and asked Mark if everything was alright, and though he was hesitant, he explained his living situation when given enough prodding. He wanted to stress that it wasn't his dad's fault, that Mark just needed to try a little harder to keep up with everything.

Welfare checks were conducted, though much to the chagrin of school officials the issue wasn't deemed severe enough to remove Mark from the home, though Louis was given strict warning that routine checkups were to be conducted. The whole ordeal lasted about a month and Louis was able to get his act together enough to prevent his son from being taken away, but only barely. Mark wished his living situation improved but it didn't, he just learned how to better take care of himself and his father, and thus his schoolwork suffered more and more. He remained withdrawn and only had a few friends in middle school.

Somehow many of his classmates had found out about his living situation and were less than kind to him about it. Most children didn't understand that alcoholism often has an underlying cause. Kids think that being an alcoholic is a conscious choice, that some people just wake up and decide to destroy their lives, which isn't true. Mark's classmates seemed to have forgotten how involved and awesome Louis had been before Greta's death. Louis had always signed up to chaperon field trips, class parties, was always the 'cool dad' at birthday parties and sports events. They forgot that Louis had once been a functioning human being that had one of the worst things on the face of the planet happen to him. They didn't understand that tragedy could ruin a person, and of course they took out all of their ignorance on Mark for having a highly dysfunctional home life, simply because they didn't know anything about it.

Mark found solace in music, and started getting into album collecting. It didn't matter the genre, if it sounded interesting enough, he scraped up money from chores and paper routes to buy them. He'd discovered a form of therapy in listening to music and on the advice of the middle school councilor he started writing his feelings down in tandem with listening to music. It took months, but he was coming out of his shell and a small sliver of the boisterous and bright boy he once was started to show through. He started making new friends once middle school kicked off, and though the bullying and whispers didn't stop, he noticed that they didn't hurt him as much when he was feeling better about himself.

It was one night in his bedroom that his mutation first manifested itself. He was listening to a strange mix of dance style music a cute girl in his language arts class had given him, and as he lay on his bed staring at his ceiling he noticed that small flashing lights began dancing in the corner of his vision. At first he blinked rapidly, thinking maybe he was getting tired and was seeing things, but the more intense the music got, the more the lights flashed and soon he was seeing them all around his room. He flung his headphones off and made to run for help from his dad, because flashing lights had to be a sign of some kind of alien invasion, or a stroke or something right? Strangely, when he took his headphones off, the lights quickly faded and went away.

It took hours of experimentation, but after a long and sleepless night he discovered that when he listened to the CD, or really any kind of dance music, the lights would appear. In the wee hours of the morning when he heard his father wake up, he called the older man into the bedroom. He knew Louis was probably a little hungover, but this was as sober as his father was going to get, and Mark was scared and needed advice. Louis was still his father, and Mark still had the irresistible compulsion to run to his parents for help.

Louis didn't know what to think. It was obvious that Mark was the cause of the anomaly, there was no other explanation for it, but Louis wasn't sure if he was ready to come to terms with the fact that his son was one of those mutants he'd heard so much about on the news. Not all of them were bad though right? Surely plenty of mutants lived normal everyday existences without becoming hell-bent on world domination or mass destruction. Besides, what damage could Mark do with a minor ability like creating flashing lights? He'd be a danger to any epileptic but to the general public, he was harmless.

Whether or not Mark was harmless didn't change the fact that being a mutant was going to put his life in danger. Louis knew his son would be targeted by bigots and receive a lot of hatred for what he was, but he didn't know how to help his son aside from telling him not to do anything that could potentially trigger his power until they figured out what to do.

So Mark put the CD away and was insanely careful about what kind of music he listened to when he wasn't at home, locked up in his room. It worked for a few months, until the cute girl from language arts needed a date for the end of the year dance the school was holding. Mark thought he could control himself enough for the few short hours he'd be at the dance. He was doing well, better than he expected, until a particularly long round of songs triggered his powers into overdrive, turning his heavily decorated corner of the school gymnasium into a rave. His friends were frightened by the sudden appearance of flashing and floating lights, so Mark covered his ears and yelled at his friends that the music was too loud and that they should go out into the lobby. His quick thinking made the lights disappear before they vacated the gym, the act of muffling the music cutting back on his mutation but enough people had seen the strange phenomenon to ask questions. Mark blamed the school for using cheap strobe lights, and most people believed that excuse once it was offered up, especially when Mark insisted he'd seen a small strobe light near where they'd been standing. Others weren't so convinced, though they didn't know what to make of the situation. He left the dance alone that night, the cute language arts girl having been picked up early by her parents thanks to a strict curfew, and he returned home, hoping his father was sober enough to have a conversation about what had happened.

Louis was upset, the 'I told you so' written plainly all over the man's face, but he did his best not to take his frustration out on his son. If his son's strange powers were going to be this active and unpredictable, it was painfully obvious that he wouldn't get much better at home.

It wasn't until after school had been released for the summer that around dinner time, an older man in a wheelchair appeared at their home, accompanied by a more able bodied man. Mark had no idea who the men were, but they seemed nice and had asked politely enough to speak with Louis, who was surprisingly sober for how late it was in the day. When Louis told Mark to let the men in, Mark just shrugged and went back to making dinner while the three older men talked, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched whenever he left the kitchen. Mark wasn't privy to what the adults talked about while he wasn't in the room, but when he was finally invited back into the living room, his father was visibly upset and the two guests looked solemn.

Louis grabbed his son in a hug and explained that Mark was being sent away to a school, a special school for kids like him. Kids that were mutants and needed to learn to control themselves. Mark was taken aback, at first. Was his dad really dumping him off at some boarding school like some kind of unwanted burden? Mark adamantly argued that they shouldn't be separated, using every excuse under the sun from it wasn't fair for him to be shipped off and forgotten, to the fact that he didn't want to leave all of his friends behind. Each of his arguments was met with a strong counter argument, and finally, as the young teen's voice cracked with emotion, he asked the final question. What would happen to Louis if Mark left? Who would take care of him when he couldn't take care of himself? Mark's strongest reason for wanting to stay wasn't for anything as childish as inconvenience or selfish desire for familiarity, he was genuinely concerned about his father.

Louis told his son that he would be going away too. They were both going away for a while, and hopefully in a couple of years they both would have themselves under better control. Louis had arranged it so that he and Mark would be leaving on the same day, Mark for New York and Louis for a treatment center.

Saying goodbye to everything he'd known was the second hardest thing Mark had ever had to do.

Once he was unpacked and settled in at the school, Mark once again withdrew into himself. He would spend hours sitting on his bed listening to music and writing in notebooks, his only outlets in his strange new environment. Thankfully with a spectacular staff and more mutants his age running around, he re-emerged from his shell and was able to fling himself headfirst into everything Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters had to offer.

It didn't take long for Mark to start throwing curve balls at the school though, because it appeared that different types of music would trigger different types of abilities in the boy. Photokinesis, which everyone already knew about was apparent, but shortly after school started he developed the ability to create force fields. He had those two abilities under his direct control, when only a short year later the teachers were hang to wrangle him down from the rafters in flight training. It was like Mark's own personal version of a growth spurt, every year or so a new power would emerge associated with a different type of music and he'd have to spent time learning how to control himself all over again.

As he got into high school, his concussive blasts were among the most difficult to get a grip on because of the sheer destructive nature of them. Extra Danger Room sessions were scheduled to help him become more adept at being a full combatant instead of being focused solely on defense and evasion. Around his seventeenth birthday was when he very dramatically learned he could heal people with the assistance of the blues, which opened up a whole new avenue of training he had to undergo. Mark was starting to think that maybe these new powers would never end, and he was partially right.

The most recent power Mark brought forth, and the most frightening, chronokinesis. It scared the hell out of him because it happened out in public in broad daylight. Thankfully he was able to escape the situation with minimal attention drawn to him, but the look on the staff's collective faces when he burst into a room yelling about a new power wasn't one of surprise. It was Mark, they had come to expect his random outbursts of 'look what I can do', and they took it in stride. With the same dedication and hard work he'd always put in to conditioning himself to handle a new power, he soon brought this terrifying force under his belt and into his control.

Mark would occasionally go home once in a while to visit his father throughout his time at the school, but it would appear that going to treatment didn't do much to help Louis. The older man continuously had relapse after relapse, despite trying countless times to get sober. The visits decreased in frequency until they only occurred about once a year in the summer. The last time Mark visited his father the house was almost destroyed, bottles and cans everywhere with almost no where to sit, and there was almost no coherent conversation to be had. Mark made the tough decision to drop his father off at a more intense treatment facility, one of those 'tough love' places that shape you up and don't give you a choice. The flight back to New York was a tough one to endure alone, but after sobbing quietly to himself for about an hour on the plain, much to the horror of the people trapped sitting next to him, he came to the realization that there was nothing more he could have done for his father. He hasn't visited since, but phone calls were frequent when they were finally permitted bu the treatment center.

Mark is now approaching a full year since a new power has cropped up, so he's almost expecting something else to sneak up on him, but he also recognizes that his body has done about as much growing and changing as it is supposed to, and he hopes that his mutation has reached the end of its rope. He's gone through a few part time jobs, trying to establish himself outside of the mansion and maybe start making some money for himself but so far he's had no luck with maintaining a job thanks to his utter lack of motivation and a combination of just plain bad luck.

Staying at the mansion though, it hasn't all been bad. This most recent school year though, with all the new kids, has gotten Mark more concerned than ever. It seems like more awful things were happening than ever before, and Mark isn't sure he can stomach another tragedy on school grounds.

Player Name- Noiz
Age 28
How Can We Contact- Skype, PM
Time Zone- Eastern
How did you find us? I got that secret invite code
Other Characters- Boom Boom, Nightmare

Role Play Sample-

The mansion was absolutely squirming with 'little tykes' as he liked to call them, even though he was only a few short years older. The way they all ran about the halls and made noise really livened the place up, and mark almost wished it could have been that way when he was a student. There'd been plenty of other students to pal around with sure but, never this many.

He dodged out of the way when a small pack of truly tiny tots darted around him, laughing and screaming at whatever they were currently excited about. He could hear them even over the music blaring from his headphones. His hands were loosely crammed into the back pockets of his jeans as he meandered the halls, just taking in the scenery of a Saturday afternoon. It was a little too cold for many of them to be romping around outside without some sturdier winter gear, unlike himself many of them were not from the great white north. Some of these kids didn't even own actual coats, which was foreign enough to the Michigander but he could understand. Were coats really even a thing in Hawaii? He'd never been, so he couldn't be sure.

The relaxed grin stayed firmly in place as he made his way down to the student kitchens. Yeah, he knew that the staff had their own kitchen but the student one was stocked with better stuff, and there was less chance of someone wanting something from him if he avoided encountering any of his teammates. He was feeling particularly lazy this afternoon, and didn't want to deal with having to run any kind of errands. He just wanted to relax, which seemed like the exact opposite of that was happening in the student kitchens as he sauntered in. He drooped his tinted Dracula style glasses furner down his nose and cocked an eyebrow at the frantic teen girls present.

“You little ladies havin' an issue in here?” He questioned slowly, not sure what to make of the pale faces and bug eyed looks the girls had. One of them shakily pointed toward a counter top, and he soon saw what the problem was.

“Oh, hey no it's okay guys, that's just Susan.” He strolled over and coaxed the large cave spider into his hand, paying no mind to the way one of the girls almost gagged at the sight of him actually touching the creepy crawly. “You've never met Susan? She's pretty cool see.” He started casually explaining what Susan was and all the neat things about her. “See she's more like a crab than anything, she's got these little pinchy bits but they don't hurt.” He held his finger out to Susan's little pincer like hand things and the small creature experimentally grabbed at his much larger appendage, which tickled more than anything. The younger girls didn't seem very convinced of her harmlessness.

“Okay well, I better get her back home, I know someone who'll be missing her.” Neena Myles sped in almost as if it were scripted, and Mark smiled at the tiny girl. “Hey, did you lose somebody?”
May 28 2017, 02:11 PM
This is the ever popular Voice Meme! These can be really fun to do, and also to hear, because we have such a diverse crowd here it's always fun to hear different accents and subtle differences in speech. Some of these questions are from the standard voice meme that flats around the internet, some of these I've seen on more customized versions, and some questions I've thought up by myself. You can record these either on video or on vocaroo, or any other method that at least allows us to hear your lovely voice! Now, let's get started!

• Give us your name, alias or real name, or both even! Whatever you're comfortable with. Who do you play?

• Where are you from? What time is it for you right now?

• How are you today?

Awesome, now we'll dive into this game and give you some things to talk about. Don't think too hard on them, just answer with the first thing that pops into your head.

• Pronounce the following words: Aunt, Roof, Route, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Pajamas, Caught, Naturally, Aluminium, GIF, Tumblr, Crackerjack, Doorknob, Envelope, Deez Nutz.

• What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?

• What is a bubbly carbonated drink called?

• What do you call gym shoes?

• What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?

• What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

• Choose a book and read a passage from it. Or instead of a book, choose one of your posts and read it to us! We'd love to hear the tone and emphasis you'd originally intended for it!

• Do you think you have an accent?

• Be a wizard or a vampire?

• Would you rather own a dragon or be a dragon?

• Are you allergic to anything?

• Do you speak another language?

• Do you have any phobias? If so do you know the scientific name for them?

• Do you know anyone on Evo in real life?

Now let's talk a little bit about what we do while writing!

• Do you have a writing process? Such as writing the action bits first and then addint all the filler? Responding to dialogue and then writing all the non verbal interactions? Do you just start at the beginning and see where the post takes you or do you plan everything out before you write it? TELL US.

• Do you listen to music?

• Do movies or shows give you inspiration? What about books?

• Do you snack while you write?

• Do you ever bribe yourself into writing? For example, do you have a reward system for yourself to help stay motivated?

• Do you notice bits of yourself in your characters?

Thanks so much for playing and telling us about yourself! This is the last thing you have to do, promise!

• End audio post by saying any THREE words you want.
May 15 2017, 12:20 AM


Celebrity Claim- Dita Von Teese

Full Name- Samara Vane
Nicknames/Aliases- Mara, Miss Vane
Age- 28
Date of Birth- October 30
Faction- Brotherhood of Mutants (Joined 01/2015)
Occupation- Interior Decorator

Personality- Above everything, Samara is a force of nature. She's pretty complex with hoe her mind works, and she always seems to come out on top of any situation. She'd quite cunning and clever, and isn't afraid to manipulate other people in order to put herself into a better position, provided of course that she doesn't actually care about the people she's manipulating. She's very good and very kind to those she consider friends, and she'll go above and beyond to make sure they are well cared for. She'll bend over backwards for the people she loves, and she only expects the same in return. It comes as a surprise to some people just how 'normal' she is around her friends. By looking at her many would assume she's snobbish, greedy, superficial and haughty, but no. She can truly let her airs down and be herself around people she trusts, and they find her to be funny, a little boisterous, and quite doting.

To people she does not like however, all the above negatives are true. She is cold and dismissive, and downright arrogant at times toward people she has a distaste for. The difference is really night and day, and as much as she loves her friends, she really does hate her enemies. An angry Samara is often a quiet Samara, as she was taught from an early age that lashing out was not lady like and was unappealing. Instead when she is angry she will become hyper focused and direct all of her snark and barbs toward whatever or whoever has upset her with pinpoint precision. There have only been a handful of times where Samara has gotten so angry that she's resorted to screaming and getting violent, and those are times that she is indeed most ashamed of.

When Samara is around people she does not know, or people she needs to be proper around, she is the image of a lady. She was well trained in etiquette from a young age and she knows how to handle herself with her superiors.

She can often be quite fussy however, and will come off as high maintenance because of it. If her hair or clothes or makeup are not just perfect, she will not rest until she is back in proper order, much to the frustrations of her companions.
  • Baking
  • Money
  • Cats
  • Fashion
  • Makeup
  • Good conversation
  • Kisses in the rain
  • Little lace gloves
  • Rice Krispie treats
  • Shopping
  • Anti-mutant movement
  • Being woken up
  • Vegetables
  • Being told 'no'
  • Pacifism
  • Getting something sticky on her hands
  • Humidity
  • People undermining her because of her sex
  • Potty humor
  • Interruptions
  • Fights tooth and nail for what she believes in
  • Cunning
  • Loyal to those who deserve it
  • Confident to the point of arrogance
  • Doesn't trust new people easily
  • Relies too much on her mutation and really doesn't know how to physically defend herself

Power Name- Fear Pheromone Toxin
Description- Samara has the ability to create and emit a certain chemical at will, and that is the 'fear pheromone' combined with a toxin that her body produces naturally. It can come out of her pores much like sweat, therefore areas more likely to perspire heavily are more likely to produce the chemical at a faster rate. Exposure to this pheromone will cause feelings of anxiety, paranoia, fear, and outright terror and panic if exposed to high enough levels. She can use her power two different ways. The first and more preferred method, is by touch.

Direct skin to skin contact is the best and most effective way for the chemicals she emits to affect her chosen victim, absorbing directly into their system and working most efficiently. This way also makes it much easier to deliver a higher dose, so the effects are stronger and more instantaneous. With enough exposure, the victim will begin to hallucinate thanks to the toxin, usually seeing visions of their darkest fears or things they just find frightening due to their already horrified state of mind. A person suffering from this kind of exposure to the Fear Toxin will normally be feeling like themselves again within an hour of exposure, granted that she gave them the normal amount she usually does, which is a palm full. If it was just a fleeting swipe it will take less than an hour for them to recover, and if she uses both hands or keeps contact and they continue to absorb it through their skin it could take longer to overcome, though the longest she's known someone to suffer is just over three hours.

She's also able to direct the chemical into the air, spreading it out over more space and affecting a wider area, usually used when she has to affect more than one person at a time. This way is much slower acting and will take longer, and it's easier to detect due to the sickly sweet smell that comes with the chemical floating around in the air. The effects on the intended target are the same however, and within minutes everyone around her will end up a whimpering mess. When a person is exposed this way, the effect wears off much the same as it is when the toxin is absorbed by skin, though the process can be sped up greatly by moving the person into fresh air, such as outdoors or into a well ventilated space.

When she uses her powers, her eyes cloud over and turn entirely black. She guesses it's from chemical changes in her body taking place but she's never put herself under a microscope to find out if that's true. Her eyes will go back to normal over a period of time after she stops. using her powers, usually an hour or so.

Limits- The biggest flaw in her powers would have to be, if someone cannot feel fear, she cannot affect them. If they have brain damage in certain areas or if they have a chemical imbalance in their body that inhibits their ability to be afraid, it simply will not work on them because their body can't be manipulated that way. These kinds of conditions are somewhat rare, but if she were to encounter someone like that, she would be at a loss for what to do.

The second biggest flaw is, when she makes the chemicals airborne, she has no control over who it does and doesn't hit. Once she pushes it into the air it's a free for all and everyone within the room is going to fall victim, friend or foe, which is why she does not like to use her powers this way. Also if she is outdoors or in a very large or heavily ventilated indoor space, it's likely the chemical would be so diluted in the air that it simply wouldn't be effective enough for it to be useful. Her powers so far have proven effective in a room up to 20x20 feet. She has not had a controlled environment to fully experiment and see how far her toxin can reach before becoming too diluted. The toxin will hang in the air for a maximum of fifteen minutes before it seems to simply dissipate and become ineffective, and if she wants it to remain in a room for longer than that she has to actively focus on continuously creating and dispersing it.

Also, once she emits the chemical, it will remain on her skin until it is washed off, and will remain on her clothes until they are washed. This makes making her chemical airborne an even bigger hassle, because instead of just forcing it out through the palms of her hands, it will cover her body and clothes, so anyone in an enclosed space while she is still covered will be at risk, even if she has actively stopped using her powers.

As stated, when using her power, her eyes change color. This is involuntary and there is nothing she can do to control it, and until her eyes turn back to their original appearance she is forced to wear sunglasses to hide this abnormality from people who don't know about her mutant status.

While this is not inherently a flaw, it is interesting to note that Samara herself seems almost incapable of feeling fear. She experiences other feelings and emotions normally, but most things that fall would under fear based, she either doesn't feel at all or experiences at a very diminished rate. She will react to startling stimuli of course, if something jumps out at her or makes a loud sound she will physically flinch or withdraw out of instinct, but her heart rate will not normally change due to being frightened. It is currently unknown why this is, if it's simply her mutation protecting her body from itself and making her resistant to the usual fear responses, or if her brain is formed in a way that the areas responsible for fear responses are stunted, she does not know.

Skills & Abilities- Samara has been trained in the arts of everything 'feminine', be it the traditional domestic arts like cooking and sewing when she was younger, to things a little outside of the box like interior design and beginners first when she was in high school and college. Her father was under the impression that his daughter should know the ins and outs of homemaking, so he was sure that these little skills were instilled into his daughter from a young age. She was taught how to play piano in her teens, and though it's been a long time since she's tickled the ivories, she's able to read sheet music and play if given time to warm up.

When it comes to her first aid training, she's no doctor but she does know how to do CPR and tend to a wound, basically enough knowledge to be helpful in an emergency, until a real medical professional can be of more help. She'd not a life saver however, therefore don't expect her to know what to do with extensive and near fatal wounds.

Her cooking is exceptional, and it's one of the things she honestly enjoys doing. It helps keep her busy and is a good stress reliever when she has too many things to worry about. She especially enjoys making exotic foods and will jump at the chance to make something beyond the American norm. It's not uncommon for her to give gifts of food to her friends, because she both cares about them and likes to give them gifts, and because she sometimes just cooks too much and doesn't want any unnecessary waste. The same goes for sewing, and though she doesn't enjoy it as much as she enjoys cooking she recognizes it as a useful skill, especially considering her unique fashion tastes and the relative difficulty she can sometimes have finding clothes that fit her frame, so she's sometimes even had to make a particular style of shirt or skirt if she just can't find something that fits her perfectly. This also means she can mend tears and hems. Fear not Brotherhood of Mutants, your popped button can indeed be reattached.

She was on the school fencing team in high school, and still practices at least three times a week. It's not a very useful skill, but she feels elegant while doing it and she figures she's too old to be doing ballet and gymnastics, though she still remembers a few tricks from her days in those sports as well.

She went to college for her Masters in Interior Design, and though she doesn't exactly advertise this as her profession, she will still take cases and work to make money. Her portfolio is rather impressive, although a little small, with many wealthy families and businesses crediting her creative imagination for their beautiful interiors.

Height- 5'3”
Weight- 120
Eye Colour- Green
Hair Colour- Blonde, though she keeps it dyed black.

Appearance- The first thing people notice about Samara is her clothing. She prefers to wear very retro and vintage styles, recalling era's long passed. She is quite buxom and voluptuous, and the clothes she chooses to wear accentuate every curve she possesses.

It's not uncommon for her tops to be cut almost dangerously low, and she relishes the fact it draws attention to two of her best assets. She doesn't care for short skirts however and will rarely wear anything scandalously short unless it makes sense for the occasion. That being said, she almost always wears skirts or dresses, and when she does wear pants they are nearly never, ever jeans. Always stylish slacks or something similar. Her footwear consists mainly of dressy heels and flats, the only time she'd ever put on a pair of trainers is when she's working out, an activity she normally does in privacy.

Her makeup style reflects her clothing choices, with cherry red lips, fiercely winged black eyeliner, and pale flawless skin. She will not be caught dead without her face fully made up and her hair styled, as she is wildly proud of her appearance and insists she look immaculate when out in the public eye. This even includes being around fellow Brotherhood members.

Gear- Samara never leaves home without a pair of over sized sunglasses. She uses them when she needs to use her powers and then hide the color change of her eyes. She also carries a small knife in her purse for self defense, though she does not really know how to use it other than a basic stab.

Additional Information- Samara greatly enjoys collecting various knick knacks and each room in her home is themed differently. Her kitchen is very pink and bright, and is almost reminiscent of a doll house whereas her bedroom is decorated with dark colors, purples, blues, and blacks that she likes to wrap herself in while she sleeps. Going through her home is quite entertaining for guests, because they'll never know what the next room will be. Rumor has it one of her guest rooms is mermaid themed, how exciting!

Hometown- Westchester, NY
Immediate Family- Ezra Vane (father, deceased), Delia Vane (mother, deceased), Ashton Vane (brother)
Others- Aside from Brotherhood members and various average joe humans that manage her estate, no one.

History- Most times, when a child is born, the new family can't wait to hold on to their new precious bundle of joy. It is inevitable, all the closest family members will gather around and the baby will be passed from person to person in a strange, almost ritualistic manner so each family member can coo over the newborn and compliment the parents. It's all very strange when you stop to think about it, but people don't think of it in such a way, they call it 'bonding', and for a close knit family such as the Vanes, they took the very idea of familial bonds very seriously. So of course, when Samara was welcomed into the world, it wasn't out of the question to expect Delia to fawn over her new baby and want to snuggle her skin to skin as much as possible, because all the new parenting magazines said that's what was best.

Yet, Delia sometimes just couldn't bring herself to spend a lot of time holding Samara that way. The woman claimed it made her nervous and uncomfortable for some reason, nothing major, but just enough to make her squirm after a long period of holding her baby. She chalked it up to 'new mom jitters' and tried to push past it, but she never quite got over how uncomfortable it made her. As Samara grew older, Delia found that those feelings dissipated, and when she had her second child two years after her first, she realized that the feelings she experienced while holding Samara were nowhere to be seen, so she almost pushed the oddness from her mind to go about her daily life.


The incidents weren't frequent, not frequent enough for anyone outside the Vane household to raise an eyebrow anyway. They were just little things really, little insignificant things. Once when Ezra held his daughters hand crossing the street his heart started racing halfway through the crosswalk, and when they'd reached the other side, he couldn't help but look about wildly as though he expected something to jump out at him. Once when Delia had come home from a shopping trip, Samara had jumped into the woman's arms, which wasn't unusual, the mother and daughter were quite close, the older woman was forced to cut the hug short when she started almost hyperventilating out of sheer terror. On more than one occasion, when the parents went into their daughters room to wake her up in the morning, they couldn't help but notice the strange sweet smell that permeated Samara's bedroom, and it was so odd how they always felt the urge to look over their shoulders on those particular mornings as they got their little girl ready for the day, only feeling more at ease once the room had been aired out or they had vacated the space entirely.

As infrequent as the couple experienced these things, their poor son almost constantly acted up while playing with his big sister. At first they thought Samara was just being too rough with her sibling, so playtime started being more closely supervised, but when they noticed that his terrified outbursts weren't being prompted by anything out of the ordinary, they were at a loss for what to do about their son's odd behavior. They'd taken him to doctors and specialists to try and deduce what could possibly be causing him to get so scared at random points, and everything was discussed, from childhood schizophrenia to seizures to some kind of poisoning, but the only thing the doctors could come up with was that the boy simply had an overactive imagination and he was taking the games he was playing much too seriously.

When Samara was asked what happened she would always shrug, and explain that she didn't know what had happened, but sometimes her brother would just get scared and no matter what she did, she couldn't help him, so she just yelled for her parents. No one suspected that Samara herself was behind all of it, the girl herself not even knowing what she was fully capable of.

Other than those odd occasions, Samara's childhood was a privileged and posh as would be expected, being born into one of the wealthier families in the state. Their Westchester home left plenty of room for the children to play, be it around the many halls of the large home or around the sprawling lawns of the property that lay just past their mother's gardens. It was a happy place to grow up and want for nothing. Samara grew up normally, attending school and trying to keep up with her parent's busy schedules.

It wasn't hard to notice, as the children aged that they were slowly dropping lower and lower on their parent's priority list. As they got older they needed less attending to, less coddling and less reassurance, at least according to Delia and Ezra. They still loved their children there was no doubt about that, but what the adults didn't realize was that their children still needed guidance, something they just couldn't provide with their busy schedules. Ezra traveled frequently for work, and Delia usually accompanied him so the children were left to raise themselves.

Ashton never seemed to mind the nannies as a surrogate parent. Samara on the other hand, felt jilted and more than a little ignored. The one thing she felt she could do however, was follow her father's instructions, the ones he left for her while he was away. He wanted her to stay active, take part in the more refined things and not laze about all day. She quickly took up dance classes and gymnastics classes, which she neither excelled in or failed, she was just an average performer. As she progressed through elementary school she kept up the act of the dutiful daughter, and as she got into middle school she branched out and found other things that would please Ezra. He wanted her to take up womanly pursuits, so she excelled in her home economics classes and music classes, picking up piano lessons at the end of eighth grade. Her entire school career she dreaded phys ed and workshop classes, finding them to be horribly boring. Not to mention, the other girls acted strangely around her in the locker room sometimes. Whenever she would walk in to prepare to shower off, some of the girls would get insanely nervous and on a handful of occasions, a girl would have a panic attack and need to be taken to the nurse's office. Usually though, once the girl got fresh air she said she felt fine, and that it must have just been the stress of the day getting to her.

Attending an all girls school was the best thing for Samara in her parent's eyes, just like attending an all boy's school was best for their son. Dating was a distraction they thought, and it would do their children better to just focus on their studies until graduation. As she aged she traded ballet and dance for fencing, and found that she was much happier with this kind of athletic pursuit. She father thought it was a little too aggressive for his darling daughter, but when he saw how much she enjoyed it and how she excelled and found a place with her school's team, he allowed his daughter this one little luxury. After all, his daughter was going to be a wonderful wife someday, and she would need some kinf of trophy to decorate her walls.

Until that strange day in Samara's senior year of high school. It was very close to graduation and the girls in Samara's class had all been sent on an end of the year field trip. It wasn't anything too fancy, just one of the local museums for a day of roaming about, not really doing anything under the pretense of learning. It was there that Samara realized something was not right about her. Samara had gotten a little turned around on her way to the bathrooms and couldn't find her class group, so she'd decided to trek down to the front desk and just have the museum workers deal with her and hopefully help her to reconnect with her friends. On the way down to the front lobby however, an older man had struck up a conversation with her, and being the polite girl she was, she entertained him for a moment, explaining that she was there on a field trip and that she was going to the front desk. She would never tell him she was lost, that was just asking for embarrassment. He began getting closer to her than she would have liked, and though she tried to back away, she wasn't fast enough to keep him from grabbing her arm and giving a firm yank. She'd gasped and tried to pull away, but he just pulled her closer and made comments about how pretty she was and how he just wanted to get a closer look at her, something about how smooth her skin looked. She didn't really recall the weird things he'd said, she found them too disgusting to really commit them to memory. She'd pulled and tugged, and eventually pressed her free hand to the man's face trying to push and disorient him. It was then that she noticed he wasn't gripping her to keep her there, he was gripping her because he seemed to be frozen in place, his grip hard yet trembling and his eyes blown wide to small pinpoints. He was sweating profusely and his breaths were coming out in short gasps. She locked eyes with him, and with one final shove she got him to release her, and he just toppled to the floor, unmoving and pale. She'd run away screaming for help, and when she told mall security what had happened they were just as perplexed as she was, though they couldn't stop scratching their necks and looking over their shoulders nervously as they held her in the security office, waiting for her teacher to come collect her. The field trip had been cut a little short that day, but nobody blamed Samara. Creepy people lurked everywhere, and the teacher felt awful for not sending someone to the bathrooms with the poor young girl.

The bus ride home had started off rather jovial, all the girls trying to put the weirdness of the day behind them, but in the short thirty minute drive it took them to get back at school, everyone seemed to fall victim to some kind of strange paranoia.

Samara was sent home early, and when questioned by her mother what had happened Samara simply wrapped Delia in a hug, not wanting to talk about the strange day she'd had on her supposed to be fun day. Delia wanted to comfort her daughter, she really did, but after a moment of holding the young woman, Delia began prying herself away from Samara, shouting and swatting at her firstborn in blind terror. Samara was confused, and upon asking why Delia was so upset the older woman simply backed away, shrieking. Samara didn't know what her mother was seeing, but the way the normally collected woman ran up the stairs shook the teenager to her core.

Ezra spent a considerable amount of time calming his wife down, and when he was certain Delia would be okay, he attempted to scold his daughter for whatever if was that had happened. Except he couldn't, he couldn't even bring himself to touch her for more than a few moments. Every time he tried he would be overcome with the worst clenching feeling in his chest and his vision would blur and distort to see strange things that weren't there. He gave up on trying after an hour, Samara never even got a chance to tell him about the museum. Ezra had to be told by the teacher over the phone that some man had had a heart attack while trying to abduct his daughter. His fury was overstated but understandable, and Samara faintly heard his shouting from her shower. She just felt sweaty and gross from the day's events and a long hot shower was what did her some good, though once she got out of the shower and toweled off, she couldn't help but notice a strange smell permeating her bathroom. It took her a while to find it, but she soon found the source of the smell was her school uniform. It smelled sickly sweet, like overripe fruit that had been sitting on the counter a little too long. She tossed the offending items in the hamper and thought nothing of it, until she noticed the smell lingering on her hands. No matter how she scrubbed them, her hands still held the same off scent, and she noticed that after a few minutes of staring at her hands, they would be covered in a thin coating of a strange clear fluid, not unlike sweat but, different at the same time. It seemed to be the cause of the smell, but she was too tired and confused to focus on it too hard, so she simply went to bed. What she didn't notice, was how her eyes kept darkening and darkening, until right before she fell asleep, they turned black as pitch.

She missed the next day of school, requesting to stay home and her parents granting her wish. It made her feel a little better that they were home, they'd at least thought it proper to be home for the week of her graduation. She decided to take the day and just focus on herself, to try and forget about what had happened at the museum.

Someone else had thought it was something worth paying attention to, something worth remembering however.

It was later in the afternoon when a man in a wheelchair appeared at her door, accompanied by another tall, more able bodied man. Apparently he'd seen what happened at the museum, and he knew a lot more about the strange things that would happen around Samara. He was delicate in the way he approached the family, and Ashton had even been sent to his room so as not to hear any of what was being said. This man, who called himself Charles Xavier, carefully explained that he believed Samara to be something special, something more than human.

He believed Samara was a mutant.

Samara didn't hear the rest of the discussion, she'd been sent to her room the minute the 'm' word was mentioned.

Hours passed, and Samara was called back down. Her mother looked sad, her father looked defeated, but Charles looked as calm as ever. He issued her an offer, an offer to come stay at his school and learn how to control her gift. Samara was confused, she really didn't know what her gift was. She'd heard about mutants that could fly and move things with their mind, and more, but all she seemed to do was scare people. Charles smiled gently at her, and nodded. Her gift was fear, she could bestow it upon anyone at random, and Charles wanted to help her learn to control it, and maybe even stop it from happening altogether. He offered her shelter, and acceptance, everyone else there was a mutant too. It was a difficult moment for her, and she looked between Charles and her parents, but ultimately she decided to go, on the condition that she would allowed to at least attend her graduation ceremony for her normal high school. She didn't know why that seemed to entertain Charles so much, but by the beginning of the following week, she was dropped of at Xavier's School with her matched luggage and a kiss mark on her cheek from her mother.

Four years she stayed there, learning what she was. She had to admit it had been fun, making friends with the other students and faculty there. She was treated a little differently than the other students, she was a lot older than a lot of them so she didn't need her general education like they did, she just had to figure out her mutation and how it worked. She became good, she became very good at controlling the creation of her Fear Toxin, so much that there were no accidental slips in the last fourteen months she attended the school. She felt ready for a normal life, she felt ready to move on, and shortly after her twenty first birthday, she asked if Charles thought it was a good idea for her to go to college. The idea was met with no resistance, and even an offer for letters of recommendation to any university of her choosing. She was delighted that she'd been approved to move on, though she wasn't sure she liked how cautiously Charles looked at her at certain moments. She knew he could get into her head easily enough, maybe he found something there he didn't exactly like.

He was probably right to be wary. She wasn't exactly on board with all the pacifism and harmony he preached. Crimes against mutants were common, it was unsafe for a mutant to be out in the open and upfront about what they were, and Samara couldn't stand it. Why couldn't they all just stand up for themselves? What was so bad about standing your ground and refusing to be repressed and love in fear? She had to escape, she just had to. Her time at the school had been a blessing but if she stayed there any longer she knew she wouldn't last. It just wasn't a good fit.

College was a breeze, it wasn't as if she choose a very difficult field. Interior design was almost child's play for her, and at the age of twenty five she graduated with flying colors. The time in university really did fly by, but she did prefer not to dwell on her time in attendance.

Life was going good for her, and she was determined to be a mutant success story. She wanted to world to know, she wanted everyone to be free to be who they were, be they fortunate like her with no physical mutation or one of the many mutants afflicted with physical deformities. She just wanted people like her to be welcomed into society.

Her parents would have none of it. Their relationship was slendid, until the minor topic of Samara's mutant status came up. Her father demanded it be kept under wraps, and her mother quietly agreed. It would be rather unbecoming for their family name to be tarnished by the 'm' label. It caused a great deal of strain between them all, enough so that one night Samara was seen storming from their home in a huff, driving off with squealing tires and no turn signal.

Samara was unsure if her parents had gotten in the car to chase after her or if they intended to go on a drive just to cool off as she had, but what she did know for sure was they never came home. It was your typical story of two distracted drivers colliding in a hail of disaster and tragedy. The Vane family took comfort in the fact that the coroner determined Delia and Ezra never felt a thing, and neither did the other driver. Death had been instantaneous, which was really the best possible outcome.

The scene investigators could never determine the source of the sickly sweet smell that clung to Ezra's jacket though.

It came as no surprise that Ashton inherited the majority of his father's estate. The business, the cars, the house, the summer homes, almost everything. The only thing left for Samara was her mother's jewelry and a lump sum of cash, spare change in comparison to what Ashton received. Ashton on the other hand, hadn't known of his sisters condition, his parents never told him why his sister went away to a strange boarding school after high school. They never told him about how his older sister could manipulate emotions at will and make anyone's darkest dreams spring to life. So he did what any good little brother would do, and he split everything with his sister. He initially wanted her help with his father's business too but she declined, asking him only that she have possession of one of the smaller vacation homes in upstate New York, something she could redesign and make her own.

He didn't have to know that it was where she would often entertain fellow mutants, where she would invite more insidious figures to discuss her most personal wants and desires. Her time spent at Xavier's had tipped her off to the existence of another mutant faction, the Brotherhood of Mutants, and she quickly found herself immersed in their ranks and agreeing whole heartedly with their goals. It was time for mutant-kind to rise above, perhaps even reign over these petty humans that hated them so much.

Life was good again, life was very very good.

Player Name- Noiz
Age 27
How Can We Contact- PM, AIM, Skype
Time Zone- Eastern
How did you find us? I've been here since the beginning
Other Characters- BOOM BOOM

Role Play Sample-

Oh wasn't this just the sort of luck she had? People go missing, then everyone else runs off to collect them, leaving her standing in the doorway like some kind of military wife waving her dear soldiers off with a silk handkerchief. She knew it was for the best she stay behind, it wasn't like she would be of any use anyway, but it still wracked her nerves to sit around and do nothing.

Pacing hadn't helped, she imagined she'd be yelled at if she wore a hole in the carpet. Napping the time away wasn't an option, every time she lay down she popped back up like a springboard. No, the only thing she could do now was cook some delicious food and hope that her little dears were hungry when they got home.

For the time being it was a delicious smelling honey mustard pork tenderloin with loaded mashed potatoes and some seasoned steamed veggies. She figured something light would be necessary for her little loves, after all hours worth of fighting would leave them with quite the appetite... unless it hadn't. What if they all came back with no desire to eat and all of this wonderful food were to go to waste? Well, someone would end up eating it anyway. It was too late to turn back now, especially since she'd just finished sifting ingredients for her favorite fudgy brownie recipe.

“...let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and hm hm hmmmmm...” She intermittently hummed and sang along to one of her favorite tunes. Fly Me to the Moon, ah what a classic. It always helped her relax when her mood was sour, and boy was she ever in a hell of a mood. She'd gotten the full monte on what happened, apparently a few of their own had gone missing alongside with some of those silly X-Men kids and just, ooh it was a frustrating week that was for certain. She'd really wanted to tag along on the extraction, just to give their captors a good what for and put the fear into them, but apparently her role this time was to 'hold down the fort'.

How she really did hate that expression.

She just needed them all to come back soon. She did miss them while they were gone.
Feb 10 2017, 01:20 AM

Here she is, our resident demolitions expert, Boom Boom! After a rough childhood, a rougher adolescence , and a stint of homelessness she's made Xavier's her new home, and she's settling herself in just fine.

When it comes to friends Tabs is open to anyone and everyone. She does her best to keep an open mind and when it comes to the people she's surrounded by at the school, there isn't much room for her to be judgmental. She will approach pretty much anyone, staff or student, if she feels the need to and is always open for people to approach her. She can come off as a little overbearing however, due to hoe extroverted and forward she is, and she can easily overwhelm people that aren't used to dealing with such a strong personality. If you can handle her and her quirks and her antics, you've found yourself a friend through thick and thin.

Now, enemies can be a tricky subject for Tabby. She doesn't particularly care for debbie downers or people who are just downright nasty, but the quickest way to get Tabitha to dislike you is be a prejudicial asshat. If you have an issue with mutants, you are automatically on her bad side, if you hurt her or any of her friends, you need to prepare yourself for a world of hurt because this little lady packs a hell of a punch in more ways than one. She will fiercely defend herself, her loved ones, and the things she believes in tooth and nail. If you find yourself on the receiving end of her ire, beware.

Watch out lovers, we have ourselves a heart breaker. Tabs has had a few boyfriends in the past, nothing terribly serious, and she isn't afraid to flirt around if she decides she likes the look of a guy. So little flings are bound to happen. She's got a lot of psychological and emotional trauma from her childhood to deal with, and if she thinks someone is getting too serious too fast she won't be afraid to bail. Deep down, she's not exactly emotionally ready to form a solid relationship with anyone, and it would take the right kind of person to help her sift through all the damage life has done to her and help her become a better and more stable woman.


Meet Nightmare, our very own horror queen. She's posh, she's glamorous, she's out of your league, and she's as vicious as she is classy.

Friends, now this is a bit of a tricky subject for Samara. She's not anti-social, she's not even necessarily hard to get along with, but if she decides she doesn't want to know you, you'll never get to know her. To those she has allowed into her circle however, she is incredibly doting and kind. She sees herself as a bit of a caregiver when it comes to her friends, and she will not disappoint when it comes to spoiling them if they're having a bad day. She seems very reserved and thus difficult to approach, and in essence, if she likes the look of you she'll find a way to befriend you. Once you've befriended Samara, you have a loyal companion.

Alas, to make an enemy of Samara is to truly put yourself in a difficult position. She can't stand people who won't stand up for themselves, and she absolutely distrusts the average human population, especially with the rising anti-mutant movement. If you dislike mutants, you dislike her, and that means she hates you with ever fiber of her being. She also has a bit of a dislike for the X-Men and Charles Xavier himself, both for their passive political stances on mutant acceptance and their constant opposition of the Brotherhood's plans. Also, if you're a member of higher society and were once associated with her parents, it's in your best interest to not reminisce about Ezra and Delia. It's a sore topic for her. Don't compare her to past generations of the Vane family.

Lovers, oh how she adores her romantic escapades. She was primed all her life to make an ideal wife, so many upper class men would look at her and see the ideal trophy wife. How mistaken they are. She's got a little list of men at her beckon and call, mainly for arm candy, she's a little more picky when it comes to who she actually takes to bed. She is quite upfront with how she feels about relationships, being she thinks that they're a little unnecessary. She's had a few serious boyfriends but the relationships ovbiously failed, so she's waiting until she really feels it to get into another one. This decision has not kept her from mingling however.
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