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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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 Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:28 am
FACULTYBebop Rocksteady xxxxxxxxx▀X▀X▀ xxxxxxxxxAcademy Registry ▀X▀X▀xxxxxxxxx
Why, hello, my name is Amir Sirhan, but you can call me Amir. I happen to be a Human, but don't judge me from that. I'm attending Lubchenko Academy as a Physical Education and Martial Arts teacher.
I was born in Mesopotamia on June 16, 6000 BC, which would make me Eight Thousand Thirteen years old. I'm Six foot seven inches tall and weigh Three hundred fifty two pounds. I also have Tribal style tattoos covering my torso, arms, and legs that make me stand out from the rest.
In case it wasn't obvious, I'm a Male, and I happen to like Women.
I have these nifty powers that you might see from time to time; Supernatural Conditioning: Having lived for so long, and having experienced so much fighting and bloodshed, my body has become a weapon in and of itself. My strength and endurance are heightened far beyond what a regular human is capable of. My power is heightened to the point that it doesn't make battles enjoyable, so I have to limit it with my tattoos. They double as the seals to my power, making myself stronger as I unseal a tattoo and cause it to disappear. I can seal and unseal my full power at will, choosing how much to bring out as the situation desires.
Here's a little bit about me; My existence is a cursed one. I was forsaken by the gods to live a life unending, never to die of old age, and too strong to be killed on the field of battle. My gods have forsaken me, granting me a near insatiable bloodlust, an overwhelming desire to fight, and the strength to ensure that killing me would take divine power. I was born during a simple time, a soldier in the cradle of civilization, Mesopotamia. My life was simple in the beginning. Later in life, I settled and had a wife, children, a family. I was the leader of a tribe of nomads, wandering to find our place in the world. We became tangled in a war between the gods and man, caught in the middle. In my younger days, I would have gladly joined the conflict, eager to be a part of the battle. But I had my family to think about, and I was growing older, unable to fight like I used to. I denied the deities their request, thinking that it was for the best. I explained myself to them, but they were not merciful with my decision. Their vengeance was powerful, a seething rage that now mirrors my own.
I was cursed by the gods. Given life eternal, never to succumb to the weakness of old age, or many of the illnesses that so many perish from. I was given power that rivaled armies, strength to move the earth, and the endurance to withstand an explosion that would devastate weaker beings. The gods sent me on a warpath, desperate to end their curse and return to a life of peace. But such a fate would never come. I wandered the Earth, fighting battles to satisfy the bloodlust that had been bestowed upon me. The earliest recorded battle that I had taken place in was that of Thermopylae, alongside the Spartan warriors. Legends told of three hundred soldiers that stood valiantly against the Persian army, but what was never told was the fate of the three hundred and first warrior. The one forgotten by history and denied a chance at death on that bloody battlefield.
After that battle, history would continue without me, until the next great battle would take place. And in it, there would be talk of a battle wherein an unusual amount of lives would be lost, at which I was the cause. In battle, my rage and fury are endless. Once I'm set upon my enemy, I won't rest until I've decimated their ranks. My hands are my weapons, and they will continue to be until my last breath, whenever that shall be. Battle to battle I roamed, slaughtering those that got in my way, turning armies against me, turning a battle of two opposing armies into a massacre of one man against hundreds. All in the sake of ending this curse. I roam the world, waiting for the next chance to let loose and unleash my wrath upon the world. To some, I am Death. To others, I am a deity of War, prayed to for luck on the battlefield, prayed to for victory.
I am drawn to chaos, fighting and bloodshed dragging me into conflict after conflict. I do what I can to avoid them, but I cannot deny my instincts, once I'm given an opportunity to fight. Once the bloodlust sets in, I'm just another animal, letting loose and bringing death and destruction wherever I go. I have seen the mistakes Humanity has made throughout its existence. I hope to pass on my skills to those that will use them for a better purpose than I. To those that will make this world a better place, a world that would no longer need a beast such as myself. That is why I have taken a position as a teacher at this school. In the hopes that my lessons will bring about some form of peace.
I'm often described as being calm and relaxed, until I'm angered, when I turn into a bloodthirsty monster. Most of the time, I fulfill the role of the 'strong, silent type.' I enjoy the company of others from different backgrounds, to learn about the world outside of the battlefield.
I can usually be found reading, training, talking, or learning when I have some spare time.
These are a few of my favorite things; Books, art, nature, and violence.
However, these can stay far away; The scent of blood, violent people, long life..
Worst of all, these stop me in my tracks; My powers may have enhanced my body to levels beyond that of a human, but they drain me of energy. Once I fully unseal myself, I can only last in such a state for ten minutes. I must finish my fight before those ten minutes are up, otherwise I'm rendered unconscious. Once I fully unseal my powers, I start to lose myself to my instincts, becoming like a berserker and begin attacking anyone in range.
I tend to always have my collar in my possession throughout the day.
When I hear Indestructible by Disturbed, Warrior's Call by Volbeat and My World by Emigrate, I can't help but think it's my theme song.
I'm swearing you to secrecy about How much I secretly love to fight, despite hiding it. When I sit in an area of peace for too long, I start to feel restless, as if my body is craving the feel of battle. If I go for too long without a fight, I'll begin actively looking for one, regardless of who my opponent is. It's led me to kill thousands of innocent people throughout the years.
There is someone putting thoughts into my head. I think their name is Bebop Rocksteady.
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:30 am
Yellow etc xxxxxxxxx▀X▀X▀ xxxxxxxxxAcademy Registry ▀X▀X▀xxxxxxxxx
Why, hello, my name is Emilia Alexandria Lennox, but you can call me Emilia or Ms. Lennox. I happen to be a half-human, half-elf, but don't judge me from that. I'm attending Lubchenko Academy as a teacher.
I was born in Ireland on the 31st of October, 1322, which would make me six hundred and ninety-one years old - but physically twenty-six years old. I'm one hundred and eighty centimeters (five feet, eleven inches) tall and weigh sixty-five kilograms (one hundred and forty-three pounds). I also have a Celtic shield knot tattoo on the left side of my chest that make me stand out from the rest.
In case it wasn't obvious, I'm a female, and I happen to like anyone, I guess? I haven't thought much of these things lately.
I have these nifty powers that you might see from time to time; Force field manipulation: the ability to create, generate, and manipulate force fields - invisible barriers or walls, essentially. They can come in the form of domes, walls, even platforms. Barriers are meant to prevent things from passing through - solid, liquid, or gas. With a bit of extra effort, I've learned to allow gases to pass through so that I don't suffocate; I can't 'choose' to allow only air in however, if I allow air in, I allow in all of the gases. I've tried to be selective, but as far as I can tell, it's beyond my current abilities. Allowing solids and liquids through however, take a considerable amount of effort and it's easier for me to just open up a section of the barrier.
The barriers themselves are incredibly durable - more so than a lot of man-made material. I can choose to make them more fragile, however. That said, they have their limits, and it's a limit that's directly proportional to my own state of being. If I'm hurt or sick, those barriers won't hold for as long. The barriers also react to magic strangely in that sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. I've been lucky to have more of the former.
Speaking of magic, I've certainly had my share of exposure and experience with it. With all that has happened in my life, I'm no longer really capable of using magic myself, unless it's a spell that only requires extrinsic magic (magical tools, rituals, what have you).
Being half-elf has its advantages as well. Generally speaking, I'm more durable, heal faster, and am more agile (but not necessarily stronger) than a regular human, and as I've mentioned before, I used to have quite the affinity with magic. My lifespan is also considerably longer, although this is rather moot given that something - curse or spell - has been keeping me ageless. I don't think I'm exempt from death, however, and I would rather not needlessly test it out. I still require food, although I have on more than one occasion should have starved to death, and yet only found myself passing out. Suffice it to say, I still very much need food and water.
Here's a little bit about me; I have a bit of a memory problem. My last memory of the 1300s were but flash moments of being restrained, and having a group spell performed on me by my Father's circle of Druids. After that, I found myself in a cave, a man having claimed that this cave was never here in all his years being in the area. I learned from him that it was the late 1700s. He offered me fresh clothes and some food, but I was quick to leave. He was certainly suspicious, and I wasn't going to sit around and test the waters there. For a few years I drifted, just barely getting by in terms of food and shelter. I only knew my first name, my birthday, my parentage, and a few flash memories pertaining to a rather mystical life, given that I had a Druid father and an Elven mother. I was without answers for anything else, and I determined that I needed a steady source of food and shelter before I could seek the answers I wanted.
At the turn of the century, I found myself in London. I managed to garner the attention of a rather wealthy man by the name of Charles. I used him. I married him for his wealth and gave him no children. He died due to the unsanitary nature of the time, and I was left with his inheritance. I quickly became somewhat of a hermit and delved into readings of the occult. London has a surprising flair for the supernatural, if you know where to look. I moved to the countryside every other decade to start off with a clean slate, but I always returned to London.
In 1851, I attended the Great Exhibition. I marveled at the technologies of man just as much as I enjoyed reading about the supernatural. Ironically, it was there that I met a man who gave me a grimoire, claiming that he knew what I was looking for - that he could sense it. I was skeptical, but any book on the supernatural was a book that I would read.
In many ways, however, I find myself regretting having read that book. The man was right, the grimoire detailed a method to sealing one's potential for intrinsic magic by sealing away the memories or knowledge of being able to use it. It ran the risk, however, of sealing away other memories, such was the case with me. It did not explain my unusual case of immortality, but I was content with answering one question at a time. It detailed that, without the original users of the spell, I could not unseal my magic. I could, however, attempt to 'erode' or 'chip away' at the seal, akin to hitting a lock crudely with a small hammer. It required only extrinsic magic, so it was doable. The success was not guaranteed however - and as my luck would have it, it failed.
I managed to regain a few more childhood memories, but the ability to intrinsically use magic did not truly return. The best way I can describe it, is as though my mind was a room that was suddenly filled with countless pieces of paper with incomprehensible text. Whenever I would look at these papers, my mind would strain itself, and to make matters worse, as with most memories, it wasn't just something I could "look away" from. I was burdened with the thoughts of these indecipherable texts whizzing past in my mind, unable to comprehend any of it. any subsequent attempts at the erosion of the seal only made things worse, and I often found myself wanting to simply escape my thoughts.
I turned to inebriation - to drinking - as my solution. What better way to turn off one's mind than to get hopelessly drunk? I still found interest in reading about the supernatural, but if I wasn't reading or sleeping, I was probably drinking. My physiology was quite resistant to alcohol poisoning, as I quickly found out.This continued through to 1900, when I met a woman by the name of Alexandria Lennox.
Allie - as I came to call her over time - was an energetic and thoughtful woman. She was a scholar at heart, and was to be married to a decently wealthy man. She was in her late teens when I met her, and we quickly bonded over our shared interest of the supernatural. Her world however, was painfully not supernatural, and I kept my secrets from her. This would all change however, when we discovered that she had the ability to cause miniature fires and explosions. At first it was harmless - potted plants, books, tea cups. She was terrified, and I was fascinated. It quickly turned deadly years later when she accidentally burned her house down, taking the life of her husband. She wanted to take her life after that event, but I begged her not to. I liked her, and whenever I spoke to her, the incomprehensible memories that filled my mind were drowned out. So Allie asked me to help her solve her supernatural problem, with a supernatural solution. She wanted to wish away her pain. I was hesitant, but I was willing to do anything for her.
We found ourselves in the Middle East only years before the Great War. With our combined research, and a great deal of luck, we found what Allie was looking for - the vessel of a Djinni. Admittedly, most of the research came from me, and so Allie urged me to make the first wish. The Djinni was certainly powerful, and I was certainly skeptical. I asked it to give me the power to protect those that I cared for, but felt that nothing had changed. My skepticism only grew. Allie, desperate to rid herself of her power, begged the Djinni to take away the burden of her own powers.
Her pleas were shortly followed by a bright light enveloping her, and a loud, terrifying sound. By instinct, I raised up my arms to protect myself, albeit knowing it to be hopeless. To my surprise, the explosion stopped short of the Djinni and I, as if there were an invisible wall protecting us. I was as furious as I was in tears. I lost my friend to this Djinni's corrupted interpretation, and yet I couldn't even bring myself to threaten it. The Djinni explained that this ability to create barriers was a result of my first wish, and that deep down inside, I never really cared for Allie - that I only cared for what she could offer me. The Djinni also claimed that it didn't take a magical being to know that I was someone who walled off most people in my life, and that the powers suited me.
I wanted to wish Allie back, but I knew that it was never a good idea to wish for such a thing haphazardly. In some way, I couldn't help but agree with the Djinni's words. And so I wished to leave this place and start anew. The next thing I knew, I found myself on a boat to New York, with new belongings, and a small fortune in a bag.
I spent the remainder of the 20th century rebuilding a life. I continued studying about the supernatural world, and returned to occasional drinking. The incomprehensible thoughts came and went, and it merely became a painful part of my life. Strangely enough, I felt rather level-headed. A bit jaded, of course, for a time I "hated the world", but I got over that phase during World War II when I realized that there was unfortunately enough hate to go around. I periodically traveled to different cities throughout the States and Canada. My desire to learn led me to follow on potential leads of supernatural cases, and while my intent was to learn, there were times when I realized that the supernatural being had to be stopped. I didn't make it some night-job to be a vigilante, but I certainly realized that various forms of combat training, alongside honing my ability was something I could not squander. My adventures, like Alexandria and the drinking, helped tune out the jumble of memories.
I had many aliases, but I ultimately settled on one true name - Emilia Alexandria Lennox. It was a truer name than the one I lost to the sealing spell.
In the 1960s I met a man named Aaron. He was an intellectual, and was caught up in the counterculture of the time. He opposed the war, as did many twenty-somethings, but he also deeply considered the other side of the fence and their reasoning. There was always something about him - perhaps it was his genuine respect for humanity, or his desire for knowledge, much like Allie. He wanted a family though, and that was something that I was terrified of ever giving to anyone. I tried to avoid the topic however - I was selfish, and I just absolutely loved being with him. Eventually however, I saw just how much he wanted one in his life, and so I had to tell him directly that I simply did not want a family. He never knew my secrets, and we parted on uneasy terms. The last I heard of him, he was drafted to the war.
I met Estella quite some time ago - or perhaps she found me. She told me about her hopes for her school, Lubchenko, and for a time, I was quite invested in the notion of it. I helped however I could, but I couldn't quite find myself staying for long. Ever since then however, I have always loved the ideals of the school. Sometimes I wonder if Alexandria could have avoided her fate if she had only learned to control her own abilities.
Now, though, I find myself crossing paths with this school once more.
I'm often described as being serious. "Scary", according to some children, but strangely amusing to others (I prefer to latter, I guess). It's not like I'm deliberately out to make children cry though - it just happens more than I would like it to. I generally don't beat around the bush, and I'd prefer it if those around me didn't either. I keep things close to my chest, and I'm not a huge fan of those who don't respect that. Some say that I'm more an 'ends justifies the means' kind of woman - quite frankly, they're not wrong. More often than not, we lack the luxury or time for 'better' options, and I'd rather live in a world of results rather than hesitation and inaction. Of course, if there is a readily available option, or sufficient time to plan, then yes, I would consider the means. I'm not a heartless idiot.
Don't peg me as an eternally pissed off person though. If you're nice to me, I'll be nice back. It's pretty simple. I don't come off as happy-go-lucky, but I guess I express happiness insufficiently for others, which frankly doesn't bother me.
I can usually be found doing runs or hiking, observing my surroundings, and reading when I have some spare time.
These are a few of my favorite things; tea, books, action flicks (the invention of movies was a godsend), and alcohol.
However, these can stay far away; incessant talkers, obnoxious flashing lights (one of my least favourite inventions of the modern age), and overtly cynical people (it's one thing to be bitter, but another to hate the whole world - trust me, I dealt with that phase).
Worst of all, these stop me in my tracks; nearby explosions (it's rather traumatic), thick smoke/gases in enclosed rooms (I can only do so much with the air confined within my barriers), and a strong magical opponent (my barriers are far too volatile against magical attacks for it to be considered reliable). Alcohol - as much as I love it, is admittedly a personal demon of mine, too.
I tend to always have the handle of an old ritual knife, and my mother's Amethyst necklace in my possession throughout the day.
When I hear Have You Ever Seen the Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival, I can't help but think it's my theme song.
I'm swearing you to secrecy about many things - I keep most things close to my chest, having shared most of it with only one person, but the worst offender was my experience with the Djinni.
There is someone putting thoughts into my head. I think their name is Yellow etc.
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:30 am
xxxxxxxxAcademy Registryxxxxxxx  Basic Information
Name: Sebastian Voros [Suh-Bass-tea-En V-oR-os]
Nickname: Seb
Role: History Teacher
Electives: Alchemy Teacher
Clubs & Sports: Book Club Substitute Teacher
Physical Information
Species: Vampire-Werewolf Hybrid
Powers: Superhuman strength and speed, immortality, enhanced healing, vampiric suggestion, shapeshifting. Vampiric suggestion aids when he feeds on a victim, keeping them compliant. When he turns into a wolf, he is about the size of a horse, and has black and white fur with red eyes.
Origins: Budapest, Hungary
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Age: 201
Birthday: October 14th
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 220 lbs.
Personal Information
Personality: Sebastian is an old soul. He gets made fun of by his students for sometimes not understanding certain references or not knowing how to work some technology. With that aside, he is a kind man, with a lot of patience. He is very protective over others, and can be quite stubborn. He can be quite gentle, as well. However, there is a darkness to him, a part that rises when he feels that those he cares about are being threatened. It is that side that can ruthless. And he often thinks that is the wolf within him, protecting his pack at any cost.
Bio: Sebastian was born in Budapest, Hungary during a time that is much different from now. His home was that of poverty. His family did not have much more than one another. His mother worked as a tavern wench, and though it was not a well-respected job, it was a job. His father owned a mill. The mill was where much of the family money came in, but a lot of the work depended on trade and how well the harvest was that year.
He was the oldest of four, with three younger sisters beneath him; Lisbet, Szilvia, and Marika. From the moment he was able, Sebastian started working to help his family. When his mother came home from work during the day, he would go out to work until he had to return home to take care of his sisters. They were his world. And he was always grateful that it was never in the option to sell any of them for money like so many others.
However, werewolves moved into his city. His home became much less safe than it was when he was growing up. And their attacks became more and more frequent. At first it was only when people would be caught on the streets during full moons. But as people made their way out less and less during those nights, the men that were puppets of the wolves within started their own carnage. One night, the sky lit up red and danced with thick smoke as the block that Sebastian's house was on caught fire. The heat and flames spread quickly, engulfing their home. The family made it out, except for his youngest sister, Lisbet. She was caught in the flames when a support beam within their house collapsed on top of her. Sebastian was desperate to save his sister from the flames, not knowing that it was too late when he went back into the house to get her. The flames licked and burned his skin until finally, he could no longer search for her. Using a broken window as an escape, he got out of the house, glass cutting his hands and knees as he crawled out.
The pain from his injuries rendered him unconscious for days, weeks even. During that time, their mother made herself less and less present during the family meals. His father did his best to care for them, moving the family into the mill that he owned. When Sebastian awoke, he was still weak. But, his mother seemed to have returned. Though her behavior was different. She looked as if an animal inhabited her body. And when his father tried to reach for her, she attacked him. With her teeth she tore into his throat, killing him with such savagery that had only been seen by the werewolves. But she was something different. Her attention turned to his sisters, and Sebastian was too weak to protect them. He can still hear their screams.
When he awoke once again, his throat burned with a thirst he had never felt before. Though his father was dead, himself and sisters were alive. Their mother made a deal with the devil himself to turn them into vampires. When it was time for them to feed, to have their first kill, his sister's were no longer the sweet little girls that he always saw them as. Instead, they were just as monstrous as he was. Though, when it came to be his turn, something else happened. Something he was not expecting. The very same kill that solidified the vampire curse that was now plaguing his life, but it also triggered his first transformation into a werewolf.
When he turned back at dawn, the sun did not burn his skin like it would his mother and sisters. And for the first time, Sebastian learned the truth. The man he thought was his father was anything but. And his sisters were only half. His father was his mother's first love. The man whom had werewolf blood in his veins. The same blood that now was within Sebastian. Feeling betrayed, Sebastian left his family behind to try to seek out the man that was nothing more than a myth.
Every turn lead to a dead end, and eventually, he gave up. Instead, he gave into the power that he had. He grasped the underworld with a brutal and stern hold. Engaging in their pleasures, and their sins, he became a kingpin of sorts. He had an army at his disposal. But, even with a great deal of power comes enemies. And those enemies were within his own ranks. And when they rose against him, he escaped with his life and a target on his back. He was to never return to Hungary.
Finally, his immortal life brought him to a new land. England, to be exact. He found himself in a small part of London, living rather well, but never flaunting the riches he earned from a life of crime and murder. His blood money was now his lifeline. That was until the third Anglo-Afghan war began. It was during this time that Sebastian saw an opportunity. A chance to be something different from the monster he had become. When he enlisted, he was trained to be a military doctor.
There was always work for him during the war, without a shortage of injured during the short battle. However, there were some he had made friends with, and one in particular that stole his heart. It was a young soldier named James. A bullet had lodged itself in his thigh, leading to a long recovery even after the bullet was removed. But this bright boy was so full of hope and life that Sebastian fell fast and hard for him. However, James would lead to be his undoing. Just not in this century.
On the night of the attack, it was like the night of the fires. Red lit up the sky. Enemy soldiers invaded the camp and set some of the tents ablaze. Gun fire woke Sebastian from his sleep. When he came outside, the death toll was rising. Desperate to help, he picked up his own gun and began fighting. Trying to remain normal, human. That was until a bullet tore its way through his ribs. The pain erupted under his skin and everything went black as the wolf came out. The beast tore through the enemy lines in a matter of minutes, leaving them all screaming in horror at the monster that was before him. When Sebastian awoke in the morning, he was laying on the hot sand not far from his camp. His eyes burned under the sun, his skin ached, and he was covered in blood that was not his own.
Sweet, innocent James found him there, wanting to help him. But Sebastian was weak, and so thirsty. He didn't mean to bite him. And he did not mean to kill him. But with every gulp, James's fight became weaker and weaker until the boy he had fallen for was gone. With his energy restorying, Sebastian's latent brain awoke to see what he had done. And with regret, he left it all behind. He was reported to have died in the battle and it was never explained what happened that night.
It was then that Sebastian moved to the States. America was a new land to him, full of new discoveries that he found himself unable to enjoy. Instead, he locked himself away and slept. For fifty years, he remained in a hibernation, hoping that the memory of him would be long gone when he awoke. And it was true, when he did wake up again. The world was so different, and sometimes it was hard for him to understand. So he spent the first few years just watching the world around him. Watching it change, learning how to blend it the best he could. To adapt.
Finally, he moved on with his blood money from his previous life, carving out a little corner in the world that he could survive in. Never once flaunting his money, nor what he was. He remained a secret, a ghost to those that lived in the dark underworld. And for years he thought he could remain unseen. That was until a letter arrived, inviting him to a school that would make a difference for people like him.
Desperate to erase the man he used to be, Sebastian moved to Lubchenko. The school was everything he could ever hope for it to be. And he even made new friends there, including a new family. Laris and Nyx became his family when he fell for the reaper. However, his past was not finished with him. Threats from James became more and more apparent, until Sebastian had to make the decision to leave. And Laris refused to let him go alone. So, together the three of the them packed their things and left for Paris, hoping the big city would hide their tracks.
It all came to an end when Nyx went missing. Desperate to find her, Sebastian found James instead. A battle that had been nearly a century in the making happened. Despite James being a younger vampire, Sebastian was inherently stronger. And for the second time, Sebastian killed the man he cared about before anyone else. With a new understanding that you cannot run from your past, Sebastian returned to Lubchenko, leaving Laris and Nyx behind for their own safety. Here, he could protect them, and himself.
Hobbies: Painting, playing the violin, alchemy, and reading.
Likes: Opera, poetry, blood, and sweets.
Dislikes: The moon, cats, corpse blood, fire.
Fears & Weaknesses: The full moon still transforms him against his will, so he has learned to no longer fight it. Drinking human blood over animal blood or eating normal food seems to help control the wolf within him, though.
Off the Record
Secrets: He doesn't want his students to know what kind of man he was before arriving at the school. He also wishes to keep his relationship with James a secret from others, finding only those he trusts the most worthy of knowing the tale.
Other: Sebastian has a locket with a picture of his parents and his sisters within it. The locket itself belonged to his mother, and he changed the pictures out whenhe retrieved it from her, removing one of himself. He also has a pocket watch that has a picture of James within it, though he no longer carries it with him, and instead keeps it in a box with a picture of Laris and Nyx, never forgetting them, but not flaunting their images either.
Theme Music: Dance with the Devil, Ghost of You
Username: Norse Princess
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:31 am
Yellow etc xxxxxxxxx▀X▀X▀ xxxxxxxxxAcademy Registry ▀X▀X▀xxxxxxxxx
Why, hello, my name is Harley Aoyama, but you can call me Harley, Mr. Aoyama, or even Ms. Aoyama - I really have heard 'em all. I happen to be a human... who died, and then proceeded to unintentionally inhabit the body of a cyborg-girl, but don't judge me from that. I'm attending Lubchenko Academy as a Math Teacher.
I was born in Tokyo, Japan (but I grew up in the United States) on September 24, 1984, which would make me twenty-nine years old. I'm five feet, three inches tall and weigh one hundred and twenty-one pounds. I also have cyan-colored... things on my cheeks. They seem to be purely aesthetic. I also have a small circular blue orb embedded into my chest - it doesn't glow though, that make me stand out from the rest.
In case it wasn't obvious, I'm a male... in a woman's body, so it really isn't all that obvious, you'd have to be some freakin' psychic to know that, and I happen to like women. I don't mind hitting on them in this body. I'd feel bad foolin' around with them, though.
I have these nifty powers that you might see from time to time; Metal Manipulation. You know, like flingin' them around and changing their shape and what not. I can also liquefy some metals. Honestly, regular science dictates that I shouldn't be able to, but then again, I'm a dead ghost guy stuck in the cyborg-enhanced body of my former student, so nothing really makes sense anymore.
Speaking of being a ghost, I really can't go through walls or anything, because I'm pretty much trapped in this body, so don't expect me to go around haunting people or anything. As for my cyborg body, nanomites have pretty much made it a bit more robotic. For a relatively small girl, I do have a bit more strength than you would expect, but I certainly cannot lift up a car or anything (unless I use my metal manipulation). Maybe a table, or something. Because of the nanomites, my body's also pretty durable and a little bit self-repairing, but I doubt that I could survive an explosion straight to the face. I did accidentally lose a finger once, though. It took about a month to regrow - it was really creepy. I'd rather not try cutting off a limb though. I'm not Wolverine or something.
The nanomites have also improved the processing speed of my brain a little. I'm certainly not a human calculator, but I sure can do basic mental math a bit faster than the regular person. It makes estimating grocery prices a little bit easier. It's main purpose was to off-load the constant metal manipulation going on in my body. The original 'owner' of this body couldn't handle it, and these enhancements to the brain were supposed to help. Of course, I've practiced my usage of my metal manipulation power to the point where it's just become extra 'processing power' that I can use now. It still isn't a whole lot, though.
Remember this though. I'm a cyborg, not a robot (nor android). Despite me having died, this body is still very much alive, and therefore requires food. Quite a lot, given her size. The nanomites also require a nice power supply. Solar power is typically enough for me, so I don't mind walking around outside for a bit. I can go without it for a couple days though. I'll be very tired though. Also, fridge magnets don't scare me. The nanomites aren't that stupid. It's the giant, industrial level magnets that could probably mess up my body. A bit of water doesn't hurt either. I still take showers, and I still drink water. I can go swimming, but don't expect me to stay in the pool for as long as some people, nor will I ever go deep into water. I don't really swim that often anyways.
Here's a little bit about me; I was born to a Japanese father and a Filipino mother. I was born in Tokyo, but we didn't live there for long, so don't expect me to be fluent in either of my parent's native tongues. I lived a relatively normal life. I went to school, had decent grades, went to college, got my degree, and started teaching in my mid-twenties. Ya'll can wake up now, because this is where it gets a bit more interesting.
You see, I was a high school math teacher, and I loved doing it. There was this one particular student - Angela. She was seventeen or eighteen - senior year. She wasn't the best at math, but she did work hard for her grades, and she came to me asking for help on actual concepts, not just the answers to her homework. She was a sweet, kind soul, who always seemed so overworked at tired, but she did her best, and I respected her for that. She also just so happened to live in the same apartment complex as I did - a few doors down, actually. I didn't ask her why she lived away from her family, but at least her father took care of the rent and some of her other expenses, so that she wouldn't have to take up more than one part-time job.
Long story short, after one particularly long night of drinking, I came back to the apartment complex to find her huddled outside her door, with metal ball bearings floating around her. I thought I was going crazy. After guiding her back into her room (and the metal ball bearings subsequently smashing her telephone when I tried to call 911), she explained to me how she had this strange ability to control metal, and manipulate. Obviously, being the sane man that I was, I didn't believe her. At least until she started haphazardly moving around other metal objects both mentally and physically, albeit with varying results. I watched over her that night, contemplating what kind of messed up dream I was in.
It was no dream, of course. After that day, many of our after-school teacher-student help sessions also involved her showcasing her power. Apparently, my presence had helped her control it a bit more, but it still plagued her daily life, leaving her constantly tired, and always as if she had to concentrate on restraining her abilities. I'm guessing you probably know where this is going though, huh?
Well, despite my efforts to remain as professional as possible, the fact remained that I was the only person outside of her parents that she opened up to about her powers, and in that way, I grew close to her. One thing led to another and, well, without going into detail, one day she woke up next to me. We both knew the risks we were taking, so we kept it purely teacher-student on the weekdays, and something... more, on the weekends. And no, I did not 'give her extra marks' on tests or anything special benefit. She even went so far as to pressure me daily to grade her tests and assignments accurately.
By the end of the school year, Angela graduated (so yes, she passed math with decent mark), and also grew to be a bit more comfortable with her powers. Granted, she did still feel a little fatigued on a daily basis. After the convocation however, she confided in me about a whole other side to this world - the supernatural kind. She had gotten in contact with others with their own abilities - some of whom were not even human apparently. It all seemed incredibly silly at first, but I believed her. She had also found a 'brilliant' scientist who could offer her a procedure that would stop her powers from fatiguing her. Apparently, her metal manipulation had been constantly affecting the iron in her blood, and had never really 'turned off', hence why she almost always felt like she had to concentrate on her powers to some extent to keep them in check. And better yet? She was to have the procedure in a week.
Once that day had come, I died. Car accident. Pretty sad, really. Next thing I knew, I was floating above my own body. It was quite gruesome, seeing your own body after an accident. If I had a physical stomach, I probably would have thrown up. Almost as if by instinct, I found myself at the door of a somewhat obscure science-y building. Floating right through it, I eventually found myself before a blue-haired girl, strapped down against a metal bed of sorts. It was, in fact, Angela. Had I not known about her procedure, I would have completely freaked out (after all, she was out cold - anesthetics, probably). I examined her now-blue hair, and the strange markings on her face. The procedure seemed to be in progress. After some time, I heard the steps of a man coming in. The 'scientist'. It was clear that my presence was not felt, for I was a ghost, after all, but I still kept some distance. Who knew what would have happened if my ethereal self somehow intervened? The 'scientist' proclaimed to the anesthetized Angela that she was 'nearly perfect now'. The hell? She was already perfect. It was at this point that the creep decided to press his lips against her own, claiming to make her his own perfect woman. Without hesitation, I found myself rushing towards him, as if attempting to break him away from Angela. Instead, I found myself inside his body, and in control of it. In the back of my mind, I could hear his sounds of confusion, as he frantically tried to reason out why he wasn't in control of his own body. After realizing that I was in complete control of his physical body, 'I' stepped away from Angela, and found the sharpest object in the room (and I assure you, there was a lot to choose from), driving it into his heart. I was sure that it would 'kill' me as well, but that didn't matter. I was already dead, and he was prepared to do even more awful things to Angela.
I didn't stay inside his body, however. Rather, it was as if I subconsciously hit the eject button, and my ghost self left his bleeding, dying body. Instinctively, I went up to Angela. She was still under the anesthetics, but little did I know that merely touching her was enough to possess her as well. This time, I found myself not in direct control of her body, but in some monochromatic room that was otherwise identical to Angela's apartment - I figured it was the representation of her mind. There, on her 'bed', sat Angela. She looked as though she was in absolute fear of me. I tried to approach her, but she did not recognize me, nor understand my words. Turning to face what would be the mirror in her real apartment, I found myself staring at a faceless, disfigured body. To Angela, I was but some ghoul or ghost. Desperate to convince her that it was me, I grabbed her hand. Instantly, she crumbled away.
I immediately found myself back inside the scientist's procedure room, this time in control of Angela's cyber-enhanced body. However, unlike with the scientist, I did not hear Angela's voice. Rather, all that I was left with, was her body, and a few remnant memories that she had. It also quickly became apparent to me that I could not 'leave' her body. I was - and still am, stuck in her body.
I remained in that room for a little over an hour before escaping. The scientist apparently had no family, while 'Angela' was reported missing. My own family had heard of my car accident later that day, but I haven't confronted them about it. I don't think I could ever bring myself to do so anyways.
I moved to another city as soon as I could, and... through deeds that I would rather not go into detail, I landed myself a teaching job at a school in the suburbs of that city. I dyed my hair black to match Angela's original hair, and whenever someone would ask me about the things on my cheeks, I would claim that it was just a cultural accessory. For the most part, I did my best to live as normal a life as I could, admittedly to keep my mind off of all that had happened. I still tried to hone Angela's - or rather, my own - metal manipulation ability. I lived in this day to day grind for about a couple years, only running into one major hiccup - a cousin of Angela's, who supposedly had a power of his own. That event opened me up to consider looking this so-called 'supernatural world' that Angela had come across. It wasn't long after that time, that I got a letter from Lubchenko Academy.
I'm often described as being blunt like James Blunt. Haha, that was not funny at all was it? I also don't mind cracking the deliberately bad joke from time to time. In my regular human days, students either loved me or hated me. They either got that I was being sarcastic and just plain screwing around, or they got their little feelings hurt by some joke I made. As a teacher though, I do take pride in helping students succeed, specifically in math, but overall as a student. As long as the kid's putting in some effort, I'll do my best not to get annoyed when they don't get something. Speaking of which, I do have a tendency of being a bit passive-aggressive. I have no qualms with admitting that. Either you deal with it, or you don't. Whatever.
Outside of work, I'm more of a sit back and drink a nice beer kinda guy. I still sometimes do that in this body, but she looks so freakin' young that it's hard to get a drink sometimes.
Sometimes I try the whole 'pretend I'm a girl' act, but only out of necessity. I don't think I'd be doing it at Lubchenko, unless I'm deliberately messing with someone. Everyone loves a good laugh, especially me.
I can usually be found doing out of class help with students, napping, or messing around with my assortment of metals when I have some spare time.
These are a few of my favorite things; a case of good beer, a comfortable couch, and a big TV. Oh, and math homework that is clear and easy to read. Yeah, it saves me the effort of using a lot of colorful language.
However, these can stay far away; lazy students who don't even pretend like they're trying, people who take life way too seriously, and people (as in guys or girls tryin' to get some 'action' with another person) that don't know the meaning of the word 'no'..
Worst of all, these stop me in my tracks; giant, powerful magnets (not one of those fridge magnets, that'd be silly), incredibly deep water (that's when things might get problematic), and heavy thunderstorms (I'd rather not be struck by lightning, thank you very much).
I tend to always have an engagement ring on my finger - it has a bit of a red stain on it, in my possession throughout the day.
When I hear Man! I feel like a Woman by Shania Twain, Lost Time Memory by Jin and I Do Sing for You by Majical Cloudz, I can't help but think it's my theme song.
I'm swearing you to secrecy about how I was in a very involved relationship with one of my students back when I was regular human, and how it was her body that I eventually came to inhabit..
There is someone putting thoughts into my head. I think their name is Yellow etc.
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:31 am
xxxxxxxxAcademy Registryxxxxxxx  Basic Information
Name: Sasha Veldiz (Sah-sha Vell-di-z)
Nickname: None
Role: Dance Teacher
Elective: Dance
Clubs & Sports: None
Physical Information
Species: Sorceress
Powers: Illusionist powers.
Origins: Simsbury, Connecticut in 1988
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Age: 25
Birthday: 15th of April
Height: Five-Five
Weight: One hundred and thirty pounds
Personal Information
Personality: Sasha is sweet and very spunky. She is very patient with her students and knows that dancing isn't for everyone. However, ballroom dancing teaches great lessons, and it's Sasha's greatest passion, and it's important her students learn these lessons to be able to be confident in themselves and be upstanding citizens.
Bio: Sasha got into ballroom dancing at a young age. She was was four when she started. She grew up in a family of Sorcerers. Her father insisted on her growing up with manners, grace and a good profession. He was a little disappointed when she took to ballroom dancing as her passion. He wanted her to be a lawyer or a politician. She went to school to be a professional dancer. At the age of 20, she worked in a dance studio. In her free time, she volunteered free classes to those who can't pay for lessons and also used the students in her studio to put on performances for the public.
As a dancer, it was all about the performance. Her magic as a sorceress came in handy. She used it to help create lighting, costumes, atmosphere. It was like a magician's act. Again, to the disappointment of her father. Sasha loved being an Illusionist. Her magic made things real, for that moment in time. She enjoyed watching people's faces light up with the scenes and images she put on during her show. Like a Magician's act.... And her enemies. In a fight, her illusion magic was to bluff, distract or to interrogate.
At the age of 24, Sasha received an opportunity to work at the Lubchenko Academy. It was a blessing and a honor to be accepted into a prestigious school. She had been working there for over a year now. She couldn't be any happier.
Hobbies: Reading, singing,
Likes: Music, when her students are happy, dogs, sunshine
Dislikes: Bullies, giving up, cats, vegetables
Fears & Weaknesses: Her illusions cause someone harm or result in their death, spiders
Off the Record
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:32 am
xxxxxxxxAcademy Registryxxxxxxx  Basic Information
Name: Jonathan David Faost (John-uh-thin Day-vid Fost)
Nickname: Jack
Role: Literature Teacher
Electives: Creative Writing Teacher
Clubs & Sports: N/A
Physical Information
Species: Wendigo
Powers: Jack has powers of glaciokinesis, healing, and vocal mimicry. With his full form comes enhanced speed and strength, and he can hear the voices of your loved ones in his head.
Origins: Bath, England
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Age: 445
Birthday: April 1
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 112 lbs.
Personal Information
Personality: Jack does his best to act like an a*****e to keep people away from him. He doesn't need the temptation and he doesn't actually want you dead, despite what he might tell you to your face. He's in excruciating pain every waking moment of the day, and there is no relief. Being at the academy only aggravates his desire to eat. Something like that really affects the way he interacts with people. The enthusiastic show-off he was as a human was closed off from the rest of the world when he was cursed, and since then was buried under years of blood stains and self-loathing.
Bio: Jack grew up in a small town just outside of Stonehenge. At the time Queen Elizabeth was persecuting Catholics in her conflict with Scotland. Things weren't looking good for his family as a result, but that was just one bullet point on a long list of problems. Jack's father was lost at sea and his younger sister, Sarah, was showing signs of the black death. The last rounds of the bubonic plague circulated through Europe leaving puss, corpses and tragedy in the wake of the war.
They had no money for a doctor, no way to make money without his father's connections. Merchants that had been his father's friends quickly forgot that his family would be in need without him. When Jack went to beg them for help, he learned that his father wasn't the sea trader they thought he was. David Michael Faost had been captaining the pirate ship under the title of Redbeard, and the mutinous crew he ran sank him to the bottom of the ocean on the back of an anchor.
Jack took on all of them that night, and came home badly beaten and missing two fingers. It was a wonder he came home at all. There was no justice to be had on his own, not without putting his mother and sister in harm's way. If the crown didn't come after them with a noose the pirates would exterminate the rats that had snitched. Justice wouldn't bring the dead back to life, however, and it wouldn't heal Sarah's disease.
With no other options, Jack looked overseas. Away from home there was a race to lay claim on the Americas, a path to religious freedom for some. Others were drawn by the promise of gold and glory. In exchange for a doctor for Sarah, Jack entered a pact to help establish the first English colony in the New World as an indentured servant.
It was a chance encounter, meeting Sir Raleigh, one that would save Sarah's life, and destroy his own. His mother told him not to do it, though she couldn't know the true horror behind her fears. But Jack couldn't do nothing. Sarah was only ten years-old. He had months of sea travel to recover from his injuries. He could still save her. He would save her.
Jack's ship landed on the Island of Roanoke. He had thought the ship was Hell, but it was nothing compared the island. Their navigator strove to waste as much time as possible in ports on the way there. Jack suspected he'd been paid off by the Spanish to sabotage them, but had no proof.
The colony arrived too late in the year to plant crops, leaving them with nothing for the foreign winter but the supplies remaining from their journey and whatever they could round up before the leaves began to fall. They had over a hundred people to support, and there wasn't enough to go around. No food, no dry wood for fire... Nothing but snow and wind and Secotans that attacked anyone who strayed too far from the settlement to hunt.
The night of the blizzard, though... That was the night that changed his life forever. He was starving, close to death...but he was still there. It was more than he could say for the man he shared a home with. His body rested in bed, huddled against a cold he could no longer feel.
Jack...well, Jack did what he thought he had to do to survive... He couldn't have predicted what would happen, but the natives knew. He could see it on their faces before he devoured them alive, mutated into a skeletal, antlered monster. Eating human flesh cursed him to become a wendigo, always hungry, ravenous, forever on the brink of starvation with no satisfaction no matter how many bodies he gorged himself on.
He spent several lifetimes struggling between his feral and human hearts after that day, until he was found by Lubchenko Academy. At first he wanted nothing to do with it, but the chance to speak with people again, to discover new ways to keep himself and his curse under control... In the end he couldn't pass it up. He was too selfish to.
Hobbies: Jack learned to draw from Governor White before he left the colony to get supplies. It was a skill he had to reacquire when he regained his human consciousness, but it provided him with a much needed distraction and the smell of art supplies helped dilute the scent of walking food. He carries a sketchbook and pencil in his back pocket everywhere he goes. He also has a few poems crumpled up in paper wads on his floor, but it's not a hobby he's keen on sharing.
Likes: Reading | Smoking | Sleeping | Video games
Dislikes: Himself | Demons | Most people
Fears & Weaknesses: Mainly fire, but he also can't swim.
Off the Record
Secrets: Jack has the marks of attempted suicide slicing through his neck, thighs, and forearms. The only wounds that ever scar are the self-inflicted ones.
Other: Jack's mother gave him a St. Nicholas pendant before he left on his expedition. The patron saint of children... It was supposed to protect him, but she never saw him again.
Theme Music: Wendigo
Username: street riot
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:32 am
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:32 am
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:33 am
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 11:05 am
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 11:05 am
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 11:06 am
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Dean Pukwudgington Vice Captain
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