Mistress, haven't we been in more than two scenes?
And your point is?
We'll be listed in the character directory any second now...
Dread Pirate Elder Omiko Derabat Shaw, Bearer of the Right Eye
Species: Lynx-beastman demon-infested cyborg. One part human, one part lynx, two parts aphote (its that extra helping of aphote that sets her apart from her fellows), one part nihil, one part lament, two parts machine, one part BAARA.
Alignment: Chaotic Evil or Black
Profession: Entrepreneur. You pick up a lot of skills in all those years.
Power Rating: A
Description: Pointy ears with a black tuft on top of her head, whiskers, pointy nose, tawny fur. Her face is just exactly the wrong shape, such that you can see it's kind of human, and kind of animal, and definitely not either.
Her left eye has been replaced with an array of cameras, lasers, and data ports. Her right eye has been replaced with the gleaming green one of the Corrupter, avatar of BAARA, and is usually concealed behind a horn-rimmed monocle on a golden chain. Pale golden fur with black spots. Her tail is more flexible than it ought to be, and is covered in metallic bands. Shoulder and spine rebuilt to accommodate additional limbs: a heavy gripping claw and a beam cannon.
Personality: One has to look out for themselves.
Three crystals that can each fire one more blast of heat that travels even underwater, boiling everything in its path.
+1 Sharktooth Dagger.
The Vasa - The submarine is long and roughly bullet-shaped. It has crystals with charged energy for defense and propulsion.
Abilities: Omiko is (almost) completely and unconditionally immortal, unable to be killed or even permanently harmed by almost anything. Traveling back in time to erase her from existence or forcing local reality to conform to a very strict interpretation of Possibility are about the only ways to do it. Her mechanical parts are less invulnerable than the rest of her.
By the nature of SHADOW BEFORE WHICH ALL IS WATER, Omiko can completely heal any entity that is at least 30% intact.
Needlework: Omiko's nails and hair are an aphote. Through/with/as it, she can conjure arbitrary items of dark crystal and black glass.
Thaumaturgy: Can transform matter to and from the shape of vehicles, summon a holding space, and perform some other tricks.
Omiko's skin is an aphote. Can grow additional mouths and sensory organs and vastly change her amount of mass (but not below a minimum).
Can see the invisible, touch the untouchable, etc.
Her familiar, Dot, exists only in her head. Right?
When the suits are made, it calls on the nihil. The profusion of hands, the blood, the nacreous fires, the ways in which even the sad fragments of those CAST LOW in the sight of YALDABOATH can display the glory of IT THAT IS THE KING.
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
But one man of her crew alive,
what put to sea with seventy five!
Yo ho ho, it's the pirate's life for me~!
New hire, Archaeologist-at-Arms 3rd class. Blew up her left eye by being uncareful with Ancient technology. Signed onto the Private Ship Architect Sparrow, raiding the Doorway Folk for resources in the great war for the rights of all thinking beings. Shortly after-
Turned Clara into a boat after stealing her treasures.
Raised the Vasa with Noah, took it back to Inside to be completed as a sub.
Applied to AMEN
??? - Belvedere
Nov 4 2010 - Torry
Jan 3 2012 - ???
Mar 3 2013 - ???
May 2 2014 - ???
July 1 2015 - ???
Aug 29 2016 - ???
Oct 28 2017 - ???
Dec 27 2018 - Ryan
Feb 25 2020 - Void
April 25 2021 - ???
June 29 2022 - Next
"What is this. No, no I did not mean to put a question mark in there. A question mark would invite a response, when then intent was merely to convey incredulity. That I find this. Someone. Else's. Directory sheet. When the heirophant should have written us in months ago! It's disgraceful! No one even cares about Omiko." "Yes I did mean 'us' thank you Yone dear."
"No, this directory post is ours now. Fan out! Explore what there is to find, and we'll gather here at moonrise."
By the next nightfall, a banner has been raised, bearing the fanged arcology symbol of the Veldt and the search-algorithm line-pattern of BC herself.
A Place for Every Thing and Everything in its Place
A gnawed on Gender: field, left blank. Species: Giraffe-cat This is a point of some being bitten because while they had the same sexes as other mammals, they are highly dimorphic, and the vasoril society is mono-gender. The evolutionary brain development pressures were such that only females were sapient. For an intelligent being to appear male was perverse and disturbing. Of course, living among humans and raptors and other unusual beings, one grows accustomed to accepting the strangeness of other species. The leader here, she was probably insulted by the question all the same. Something starting with a 'V' was written here, before it was scratched out and an enthusiastic student put in 'SPACE FAIRY'. That has itself been cleanly erased and filled in with the current text, 'Vasoril'. The students were mostly human, with the exception of their photoraptor.
A courtyard amphitheater, where tricks of the sound magnify the voice of speaker and diminish those of the listeners. This is Age: "Gather round, students, this is a learning point. In the Veldt, and other True Worlds, time need not pass. In the Elder land, to travel north and south was to pass the days one way or another. Each latitude was held in eternal twilight, noon, or night. I have lived maybe twenty-one-thousand days, but they weren't all as long as the other."
The mission statement aligns closely with Alignment: "Lawful, sensei." "And the law contains within it the sense of its own transgression. You have all cast aside much to come here." There is a considerable disdain for illegitimate authority, for tyrants. The Law is the main thing that separates them from the miserable traitors who lost Terra to the humans. That and maintaining their original forms. Good and evil are considered unimportant. The pattern is what matters. The Fae vasoril do not keep slaves as the Earthly fae do, but they are not kind. They are not warm.
A tree grows this field and over it. It is such trouble to begin from first principles. Let nature help.
Power Rating: "When we first came here, in combat, I am an E, maybe E+, depending how much you fear my teeth. I didn't even have a Sword. But I did have Logru." "And I am a B." "But we're all bound by the will of the heirophants. Could we ever unleash our full power here?" "When our outpost was attacked, I didn't fight back. I fled. I was content to lose conflicts of the Sword even as I won others. I lived in a civilized place where no enlightened being would inflict the true death on another, and no mortal could. But now I'm somewhere else, somewhere barbaric. Since the chimera incident, I've had to learn to fight. Now, maybe a C.
Logru, the photoraptor. The generalissimo. He builds a home near the power rating field. They call it a Sword, but physically, it's a mace. A scepter, even. Symbol of authority. Composed of crystal. It's grown since it was a prop in someone else's story. He has taken inspiration from Frysglon, and let the ice into his heart. Never again will he fear withering away in the cold like his kin. Frosty. So much, to him, is just business. He can barely bring himself to weep and rejoice in his safety at last. That is not their way.
Description: Something like, but not exactly like, this. Take a lioness. Very long neck, little horns. Like a giraffe. A pair of tentacles on the shoulders, like a displacer beast. Thin and clever, not like a displace beast's hooked tearing pads. "You know, we're not actually an evolution of leonids. The common ancestry is several branches back..." She walks away with a sigh.
Ophelia Graham understands. She does not plan to leave their original body, but isn't Logru. Of all the students, she probably has the best claim to follow in the same profession. But she can't get too close yet. She became a renegade, without any Racial Charity.Personality: Someone, in a low rumbly voice, starts to sing the Bureacrat Song, and where once they would be stared back into silence, now people sing along and laugh. These are friends, after all they've been through. "We do what we have to do. We know what we are and we aren't here to make people feel better. We're here to make people better. All minds. All lose something in joining society. Are you getting your worth?" Limited ability to empathize, is what it is. Rational. Which can never be a fault, except where its means are applied to false ends, as, admittedly, they often are for drama's sake. Time folds, bends. Unseen, eloquence grows.
Equipment: "Not going to lie, we're real short on gear. Especially after the failed raid."
"Logru, put together a trip into those Hunting Grounds! ... take the hair clip."
He will. The hair clip used to be his comrade. They...folded isn't the right word. In some ways, they're already at the end of the road. They couldn't take it. Now they're a hair clip. A damn nice hair clip. He doesn't even have hair. Smooth as the wind.
"Yam, believe in a nice dinner, and some decorations, will you?"
"We have means, people, even if we don't apply them much."
"I'm applying them!" Yone Reyezuela Reindhez Gonzales, the penguin-hunter girl, speaks up, no real bitterness in her voice. To be another giraffe-cat. The wonderworker, forger of Charities into Artifacts. She is precious to this little studio. Likes organizing and staying in touch with people and ribbons.
Mask - Mara's ribbon. 2D, matches speech color. Arm - giant spider, Brow - flying whale/dolphin, Neck - moa, leg - ??? Hair - Floof, Waist - Snake
Yam Yamson is talking about Abilities: Considerable reality warping is the main one. But it can only be applied in narrow ways. Like gifts! That some people happen to mistinterpret as curses. Poor silly things. He's always speculating. He doesn't even need a body, at least, he says he doesn't. Still got one for now, but just think! Listen to him tell you all he'll do once he doesn't. Yam hasn't made much progress, but he's still talking a good fight. There used to be another guy, not quite Yam's rival. He didn't give up his name easily. He was in it for the Abilities:, you can be sure. He didn't make it. Destroyed himself reaching too far. Right, where were we? Ah, yes. Their powers come from applying Grammar. Possession of Charities allows one to reshape the world according to the philosophy and themes that it embodies. A Sword, such as Logru has, governs violence and theft, and he often uses it to outnumber opponents, apply their armies, and sustain a champion. This can be crystallized into Artifacts, which don't rely on any grammar-work of their user. Even a mundane human could use them. The hairclip and the ribbons that Yone is so fond of are good examples. This artifact-shaping is the secret of the Outer Fae. Recently they learned that the Earthly Fae had a secret of their own, a means to force enlightenment.
He is talking, of course, in the workshop. Yone's place, a location for study of the Charities. To forge them, evaluate them, test them.
The Spindle is the Nexus. What does it do? Well...
Backstory: "We are gathered here today to remember Katherine Whitsman. She didn't last long enough in their eyes to earn a place here. This is not an easy path. She didn't reach the end. But she walked it all the same, she died for us, and we will not forget her. Too many have already been forgotten."
When the speech is over, no one feels the need to wash the touch of humans out of their fur.
Everyone* finds their own place to stay. There is no thought of Reclamation. Everyone is happy here. Happy enough. The past lines up cleanly. They all came to learn, to become like their enlightened teacher. There was a raid, a play about revenge, where they attacked the one who had nearly killed the teacher. There was a migration, emigration, to a story they were turned away from. A dead place with no heirophant's touch. And now, they're here. It's not the best place. It certainly isn't a True World. But it's going to be home for now.
*Everyone who's left.
We interfered with the transportation systems. Stole a load of passengers. We were going to make a deal. Exploit the entry into the rainbow. It was unwilling to talk. She killed everyone. Truly killed them, unmade their souls. Some of us got into the Veldt and closed the portal. I didn't make it there in time. I took an emergency portal. No idea where it went. Here. The Nexus. One-way. I started, I found the discontent, the desperate, and I taught them.
Among those who care about interplanetary politics (and let's be honest, most don't really) the primary school of rhetoric is those of the Reclaimers. The goal is to eventually invade Earth, wipe the humans and whatnot off the map, subvert the earthly fae infrastructure, and take back their home. The other big segment is the Unbroken, who hold that the Veldt is their home now, and they should interact with the rest of the Rainbowverse as little as possible; other races bring nothing but trouble. In a tiny corner are the Debutantes, who think they should stop hiding from the wider world completely, reveal grammar and their worlds to the other races, and try to live in peace. Attempting to make any of this happen is treason, but believing in it is, technically, permitted. There's tons of variations an religious fringe groups and what not, but we're going to focus on our protagonist here. The Bureaucat leans more Unbroken, but she took a job doing full-on Reclaimer work simply because it paid well. Consider what the fae might value. Ageless beings whose magical power is such that their physical needs can be satisfied by a simple act of will. Their own world, which generally suits them, flexible enough to mold to their designs.