Maddi's Char (Micah Viiv)
Jun 24, 2014 15:40:22 GMT
Post by MaddiroseX on Jun 24, 2014 15:40:22 GMT
All rolls done via IRC, power approved by Tieshaunn
Cape Name: Micah Viiv
Secret ID: Grace Melena
Background:
Grace was raised by her father, any questions about her mother or other family were severely punished. When she was eleven she walked in on her father and a strange woman, him standing calm and collected, her tied to a chair with her throat cut. From then on her father never tried to hide his profession as a hitman from her, even using her when it was useful to have a small child or act the “doting father” role.
When she was sixteen she began helping him, taking on contracts in high schools, colleges, or places where an teenaged girl was more effective than a severe older man. When she was seventeen Grace’s father accidentally sent her out on a contract that went wrong.
Trigger:
Grace heaved a sigh as she climbed the tiled stairs, checking the syllabus in her hand to double-check the name. Professor Hansid was on the fourth floor, and she hated elevators, but it was times like these that she disliked her profession.
She knocked meekly at the door a few minutes later, trying to slip into her role and forget the annoying climb. After a brief moment of consideration, she unbuttoned another button on her shirt.
“Come in.” Grace liked that Hansid’s voice had a deep musical tinge to it. His office was all rich dark colors, a cheap University room transformed by the decorations Hansid had put up. He must’ve brought the desk in himself, because there was no way the University had shelled out for such a large and solid redwood piece. The man himself was just as solid-looking as his desk, his brown face rugged and handsome, the hint of grey in his hair making him look distinguished. “You’re a little late for office hours.” Hansid gently prodded, and Grace shook herself out of her stupor.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to be sure no one would be coming in...I mean,” Grace made herself blush, a skill that had proven extremely useful over the years, “I should start at the beginning. My name is Emma and I’m in your Sociology 103 class.”
“Ah yes, I think I remember your face.” Hansid smiled warmly, and Grace admired how smoothly the man lied. “What can I do for you?”
“Well sir, I’m not doing very well...it’s not my fault, I’ve just been really busy with family stuff, and I just know I can catch up...if I somehow got an A on my last paper.”
“Ah, and let me guess, you did not?”
“Well...” Grace had started wandering around the room, making sure to angle herself so that he could see the curves of her body. “...that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Would you mind if I locked the door? Just so we’re not interrupted during our talk?”
“By all means.” Hansid was grinning now, and Grace fought the urge to roll her eyes as she shut and locked the door to his office. It was disappointingly easy, how trusting he was.
Even accounting for hormones, what kind of person lets me just lock them in an office? She thought as she meandered around the desk, closing the distance between them. His only response was to lean back, and Grace smiled flirtatiously to hide the look of scorn.
Trusting idiot. She thought as she straddled him, and she didn’t have the least bit of regret as she pulled the knife from beneath her skirt and slipped it almost delicately into his chest.
“Honestly...how...naive...can...you...be?” Grace muttered, half to herself, pulling the knife out with a wet squish and driving it back in on each word. After hopping down from the ex-professor’s lap and wiping the knife off on his tattered sweater vest, she turned to the window. Her father would be on the edge of campus, so if she just waited for a few hours...
“I was wondering the same question about you.”
Hansid’s voice seemed to settling in a hard ball in Grace’s stomach and she slowly turned. Through the gashes in his sweater, she actually saw the skin of the final stabwound knit itself back together, the blood seeping into his skin and leaving it clear.
“You’re a meta.” Grace choked. “They gave us a contract on a fucking meta.” Hansid was standing now, his smile suddenly much less friendly, one hand working to undo his belt.
“Now, shall we continue where we left off?” He began, at the same time that Grace made a lunge for the door. He caught her by a handful of hair, his grip so strong that it arrested her movement in an instant.
The first time he smashed her head down on the sturdy desk it just bounced with a dizzying thud that made her ears ring. The second time she heard a dull crack somewhere, and lights exploded behind her eyes. She was unconscious before the third.
Background/Trigger Metahuman Links: No links
Situational Meta Link/s: (Prof Hansid)
Personal Base Theme: Fallen Angel of Death
Type: (rolled 14) Standard Manifestation
Multiple Powers: (rolled 51) 1 Power
Physique: (rolled 40) No
Tier: (rolled 82) Apex
Tier Level: (rolled 29) 7
Star: (rolled 73) G
You get more power than most, in exchange for more drawbacks. (DV +10%, +2 Dreams, +1 Nightmare)
Dreams:
(Rolled 17)<Family> Your power is just a bit more protective and supporting than most (related to you).(DV -10%)
(Rolled 2)<Wetness> Your power has a socially useful, but innocuous side. An advantage small enough not to accuse you of mind control.
Nightmares:
(Rolled 25) <A Fall> You lack control over your power. Using it for delicate tasks is out of the question for you, and you can rarely use it casually. (DV + 15%)
Powers:
Spawning 7: Produces a single agent that is instinctively protective of her. The agent has a black-liquid, semi-physical form. It is permanently active, usually hiding inside her. The agent can possess people by entering their body through an orifice. While inside her, the agent provides enough minor regeneration so that she does not harm herself going 100%.
Wetness: It gives her a kind of "healthy glow". She just looks more... alive than usual, not so much that it'll seem unusual, but enough to make her more desirable, easier to snare hosts in.
Agent is Vulnerable to fire and is hurt by bright light (not harmed, but it hurts, and avoids it)
The Agent is loyal, but hard to properly control, as it tends to take her orders very literally, or somehow twist them accidentally. It is not truly intelligent.
Grade 1 Derangement: Minor issues and obsessions, can be disguised as simple ticks.
DV Calculations:
(Spawning +30) + (Level 7 + 38) + (G star +10) + (Family -10) + (a Fall +15) = 83
<75> Roll <Percentage>: [39 Failure]
<8> Roll <Percentage>: [36 Success]
Cape Name: Micah Viiv
Secret ID: Grace Melena
Background:
Grace was raised by her father, any questions about her mother or other family were severely punished. When she was eleven she walked in on her father and a strange woman, him standing calm and collected, her tied to a chair with her throat cut. From then on her father never tried to hide his profession as a hitman from her, even using her when it was useful to have a small child or act the “doting father” role.
When she was sixteen she began helping him, taking on contracts in high schools, colleges, or places where an teenaged girl was more effective than a severe older man. When she was seventeen Grace’s father accidentally sent her out on a contract that went wrong.
Trigger:
Grace heaved a sigh as she climbed the tiled stairs, checking the syllabus in her hand to double-check the name. Professor Hansid was on the fourth floor, and she hated elevators, but it was times like these that she disliked her profession.
She knocked meekly at the door a few minutes later, trying to slip into her role and forget the annoying climb. After a brief moment of consideration, she unbuttoned another button on her shirt.
“Come in.” Grace liked that Hansid’s voice had a deep musical tinge to it. His office was all rich dark colors, a cheap University room transformed by the decorations Hansid had put up. He must’ve brought the desk in himself, because there was no way the University had shelled out for such a large and solid redwood piece. The man himself was just as solid-looking as his desk, his brown face rugged and handsome, the hint of grey in his hair making him look distinguished. “You’re a little late for office hours.” Hansid gently prodded, and Grace shook herself out of her stupor.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to be sure no one would be coming in...I mean,” Grace made herself blush, a skill that had proven extremely useful over the years, “I should start at the beginning. My name is Emma and I’m in your Sociology 103 class.”
“Ah yes, I think I remember your face.” Hansid smiled warmly, and Grace admired how smoothly the man lied. “What can I do for you?”
“Well sir, I’m not doing very well...it’s not my fault, I’ve just been really busy with family stuff, and I just know I can catch up...if I somehow got an A on my last paper.”
“Ah, and let me guess, you did not?”
“Well...” Grace had started wandering around the room, making sure to angle herself so that he could see the curves of her body. “...that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Would you mind if I locked the door? Just so we’re not interrupted during our talk?”
“By all means.” Hansid was grinning now, and Grace fought the urge to roll her eyes as she shut and locked the door to his office. It was disappointingly easy, how trusting he was.
Even accounting for hormones, what kind of person lets me just lock them in an office? She thought as she meandered around the desk, closing the distance between them. His only response was to lean back, and Grace smiled flirtatiously to hide the look of scorn.
Trusting idiot. She thought as she straddled him, and she didn’t have the least bit of regret as she pulled the knife from beneath her skirt and slipped it almost delicately into his chest.
“Honestly...how...naive...can...you...be?” Grace muttered, half to herself, pulling the knife out with a wet squish and driving it back in on each word. After hopping down from the ex-professor’s lap and wiping the knife off on his tattered sweater vest, she turned to the window. Her father would be on the edge of campus, so if she just waited for a few hours...
“I was wondering the same question about you.”
Hansid’s voice seemed to settling in a hard ball in Grace’s stomach and she slowly turned. Through the gashes in his sweater, she actually saw the skin of the final stabwound knit itself back together, the blood seeping into his skin and leaving it clear.
“You’re a meta.” Grace choked. “They gave us a contract on a fucking meta.” Hansid was standing now, his smile suddenly much less friendly, one hand working to undo his belt.
“Now, shall we continue where we left off?” He began, at the same time that Grace made a lunge for the door. He caught her by a handful of hair, his grip so strong that it arrested her movement in an instant.
The first time he smashed her head down on the sturdy desk it just bounced with a dizzying thud that made her ears ring. The second time she heard a dull crack somewhere, and lights exploded behind her eyes. She was unconscious before the third.
Background/Trigger Metahuman Links: No links
Situational Meta Link/s: (Prof Hansid)
Personal Base Theme: Fallen Angel of Death
Type: (rolled 14) Standard Manifestation
Multiple Powers: (rolled 51) 1 Power
Physique: (rolled 40) No
Tier: (rolled 82) Apex
Tier Level: (rolled 29) 7
Star: (rolled 73) G
You get more power than most, in exchange for more drawbacks. (DV +10%, +2 Dreams, +1 Nightmare)
Dreams:
(Rolled 17)<Family> Your power is just a bit more protective and supporting than most (related to you).(DV -10%)
(Rolled 2)<Wetness> Your power has a socially useful, but innocuous side. An advantage small enough not to accuse you of mind control.
Nightmares:
(Rolled 25) <A Fall> You lack control over your power. Using it for delicate tasks is out of the question for you, and you can rarely use it casually. (DV + 15%)
Powers:
Spawning 7: Produces a single agent that is instinctively protective of her. The agent has a black-liquid, semi-physical form. It is permanently active, usually hiding inside her. The agent can possess people by entering their body through an orifice. While inside her, the agent provides enough minor regeneration so that she does not harm herself going 100%.
Wetness: It gives her a kind of "healthy glow". She just looks more... alive than usual, not so much that it'll seem unusual, but enough to make her more desirable, easier to snare hosts in.
Agent is Vulnerable to fire and is hurt by bright light (not harmed, but it hurts, and avoids it)
The Agent is loyal, but hard to properly control, as it tends to take her orders very literally, or somehow twist them accidentally. It is not truly intelligent.
Grade 1 Derangement: Minor issues and obsessions, can be disguised as simple ticks.
DV Calculations:
(Spawning +30) + (Level 7 + 38) + (G star +10) + (Family -10) + (a Fall +15) = 83
<75> Roll <Percentage>: [39 Failure]
<8> Roll <Percentage>: [36 Success]