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Rufus and Skye Oak (33 and 31; administrative roles); Charlesworth (xatu) and Grimstrip (haunter), respectively

A look of horror is frozen on young Skye's features as an unquestionably evil, clawed hand reaches out of his computer screen and error warnings flash at him. The hand is hardly human; it is purple and ends in razor-sharp tips. Most importantly, it is just barely translucent. It has not yet dawned on Skye, though his natu is plummeting from its perch on his head to the ground with laughter, that the translucence is due to the fact that the hand belongs to his older brother’s Grimstrip: a haunter, or a ghost made of sharp edges with a vaguely humanoid upper body tapering down to a triangular point and slanted, impish eyes caught in a constant sneer. The green-plumed, short-beaked, spherical bird pokémon currently falling through the air is Skye's Charlesworth. Both pokémon are in very high spirits; this is a quirk of theirs that means they got along wonderfully as their respective masters grew up in spite of their opposing elemental capabilities.
This is fifteen years prior to the Calamity. Both boys are still young in both body and heart, their similar appearances hiding the fact that Rufus is two years his brother’s senior. Both have bowl-cut, dark brown hair, gray eyes, cheerful smiles, and small features. They are sixteen and eighteen. They excel in school, especially in the realm of computer science. At the time of this little prank, Skye is constructing a program to allow Charlesworth (or “Charlie,” more commonly) to calculate the strength of his psychic abilities based on how quickly he can telekinetically use the computer mouse to click invisible buttons, predicting their location by reading Skye's mind for the on-screen coordinates. He is running the program on an operating system his brother wrote during Rufus' brief foray into computer science.
Their father is still alive; he will die in four years from a heart attack. They spend the most time with their mother, though, despite her devotion to her work. She shares with them everything she knows - as far as they know - and they drink up the knowledge. Their father is a military man who no longer believes in war; he dotes on them and tries to teach them sports, although neither really excelled athletically. He is a proud father, anyway. It’s a happy family.

Name: Pan Pulcher "Puck the Pied Piper" Picus

Sex: Male

Age: 11

Race: Faun

Appearance: Goatish. As implied by his name, Puck is pied, hair untamed. He wears wide, dirty, cloth breeches over the thick thighs of his capricious kind and the fur it hides is mixed chestnut and creamy white. He wears a loose-fitting, wrinkled, drab shirt over a chest furred on his flanks and breast, but less so on his belly. The fur extends all the way around to his back and also covers his shoulders and biceps, becoming thinner and shorter as it nears his hands, the backs of which have surprisingly soft, delicate peach fuzz. He stands 5'3", small and lithe, and wears a symmetrical goatee, since he nears his prime. It extends from thick, short-haired mutton chops, brown on the left side and white on the opposite. His eyes are deceivingly simple and brown, set close together in an elfin face, and his horns curl just shy of four inches high. His ears are large, and pointed like elves', and his short puff of a tail pokes out from a hole under his belt.

Personality: Puck is as his name implies, though more, as well. He displays a brash, carefree playfulness and friendliness that border on obnoxious and now and then cross the line into machismo. Underneath it, he's generally helpful towards others, though his primary concern is himself and ultimately, the resurgence of his race's pride. Having been raised in a grungy place, he unfortunately picked up one habit from dogs he has never been fully able to subdue - his tail wags when he gets extremely excited. He has roughly the maturity of a human twenty-year-old. His greatest downfall is his greatest characteristic - he is excitable, in every manner of the word. He will move off to steal if something looks enticing, he makes great efforts to woo men and women of any species, and he's not particularly bright, because he has no interest in sitting down to study. It's only by Cubbard's demand that he knows how to read at all.

Skills: Thief! He steals… anything. Primarily a pickpocket, Puck plunders most purses with a proficiency and pride that he parades among his pack of preteen pilferers. He also knows a variety of simple cantrips - basic, short-lived illusions for most of the senses, creating a small spark, brief levitation, etc.

He is also a juggler and acrobat, and knows a little bit about brawling, though his gracile frame precludes precociousness in that area. His fighting prowess is in a certain dance-like martial art (similar to capoeira) that was originally developed to look like a form of cultural expression, and in fact be a surprising, feinting fighting style. He has incorporated knives into it, as a part of his juggling and cutpurse-ing.

Finally, using the natural charm and charisma of the fauns, he keeps a small band of animals around him at all times, including a magpie, a rat, and a small dog, who aid him in his thievery and share in his profitable plucking. Also he is a novice woodcarver.

Background: Born into the subjugation of the hybrids by the orcs in the Khanates, Puck has lived in hatred of them for his entire life. Thin and wiry, he cannot challenge them directly, and so steals what he can. His parents never meant terribly much to him, especially when they failed to even question the goblins that stole him the one time he did try to take on one of their kind, at age five. Based on his build and the propensity towards magic he had shown once to an uncle - this ability ratted out by his cowering parents at the time of his kidnapping - Puck was enslaved as a jester for a solid year, mocked, beaten, and abused for a solid year of performing in paints that emphasized his piebald patterns.

When Cubbard arrived for the Minosian uprising, Puck charmed his favored magpie into picking the lock on his leg irons and, before he could be captured again, pecking out the eyes of his pursuers. Cubbard intercepted the boy as he was running - Puck no longer remembers quite when, or how, this happened - and seeing his plight, put him in the knight's own employ, allowing him to act as page for his pavilion until he had recovered - indeed, the pluckish lad that once perched precariously on palisades had puled meekly after his stay with the hordes.

During that time, he was a pupil to one of the mages in Cubbard's entourage, briefly, to learn his letters and the one spell that would most progress his pickpocketing practice - the ability to open a portal to the Sorcerous Plane, to stash his treasures.

Now, though, he has been playing the pipe and peddling others' "misplaced" possessions for several years and finally, one day, was proffered a letter to peruse from his late patron and protector, Sir Cubbard. It pleased him to assent, so off he went.

Items: Three throwing knives, a carving knife, an ornate dagger five juggling balls, two handkerchiefs, six pyrite coins, a leather sling, two shirts, one pair of pants, a rucksack of sorts, a wooden flute, a silver ring, six corked bottles of assorted ointments and perfumes, a war hammer (that he can't lift), a sack full of brightly colored glass, an assortment of hats, and a charming demeanor.

Other: Puck is probably well known to those who once enslaved him, and may be a "red flagged" individual in a number of places, recognizable by his fur. Similarly, because he is generous to his own kind, he may be "blue flagged" elsewhere, though that is less likely, because he's kind of selfish.

Name: Alex Collins
Gender: Male
Age: 14
Personalities: Alex is a very quiet, shy, and enigmatic child. Behind his gentle gray eyes lies a sort of sad smile, as though he knows what is going to happen, knows that he can't stop it, and has calmly accepted that fact. He tries to be obedient most of the time, but as any child will, he has his own agenda every now and then. It is clear that Alex is hurt emotionally when others mock him, but all of his feelings are internalized. Like any kid, he has always liked cookies, ice cream, and simple jokes, and being in ninth grade has not changed any of his childish traits. He displays a solemn appreciation for artistic magnificence and spends a lot of time in his own mind, with worlds that no one ever sees. This is an ostensibly delicate personality who dances on the off-beat of the prosaic social tempo. It is hard for him to find friends, because they never know with whom they are really friends.
Jesse is a "cooler" character; he hangs out with tough crowds, smokes like a power plant, and ties firecrackers to cats' legs, a bubbling laughter behind his gray eyes. Jesse pushes little kids down and steals their money, but holds the door for the principal as she escorts him to her office. He is the smoothest hard-bitten bully a fourteen-year-old can be, and he is fiercely protective of Alex.
Chris is an intellectual of sorts. She cannot stand when Jesse smokes and she hates Alex's shyness, although her own aloof manner makes that hate a little hypocritical. She buries her head in books and officiously snubs most of the people she and the other two know. She glares at teachers who scold her, and the penetrating stare from those gray eyes stays with them for the rest of the day. She hates it when people call her a girly-girl, but refuses to give up her feathery pink pen or enjoyment of glitter.
B's granite eyes never see the light of day.
Appearance: Alex is a wisp of a child, standing at 5' 5". He is very thin, with no musculature to speak of. He has pale, almost platinum-blond hair down to his shoulders and gray eyes out of a smooth, unblemished face with a weak chin and otherwise innocent features. There is a long scar up his right forearm.
Bio: Mrs. Collins is not the easiest woman to get along with. She suffers from panic attacks, insomnia, manic depression, anxiety, and on occasion, violent somnambulism. Her husband left her when she was sixteen for another woman and showed up dead of alcohol poisoning on her doorstep four months later. Alex was born shortly afterwards. Her violent outbursts of mania created in Alex an introverted, gentle personality. In the rare social circumstance, only his calming words could sooth her, even while she raged that he was a mistake. She never beat him, but there was emotional pressure enough that teachers fought for a long time to take him away from her. When legal action finally succeeded, Jesse emerged, beat his foster mother into unconsciousness with a baseball bat, and ran back to his real mother, who met him crying with joy and shouting at him to go to his room, whiskey bottle in hand. The legal pressure faded over time after that incident, but Ton'yell was assigned as his therapist when he was thirteen despite the mother's angry protestations. He never really opened up to her about his situation at home, although she did meet Jesse and Chris on separate occasions.
Alex did not do well academically, and Jesse even worse. Therefore, Chris substantiated herself, working late into the night to make sure every homework assignment was perfect. Jesse stole books for her to read from the library, and Alex has known multiple sleepless nights, listening to her read to him from everything from pathology guides to Robin Hood.
One day, Mrs. Collins came home with a dangerous-looking man. Alex wanted him gone. He scared the daylights out of Jesse and Chris. Alex wanted him gone. The next day, he was, and Alex gained the scar on his arm that he has since been unable to explain.
The body was not found.
The reason he ran away was totally unrelated to the incident with his mother. Jesse wanted to go exploring and Chris wanted to discount rumors that the mansion was haunted. Alex didn't seen any reason not to; Mrs. Collins was asleep, and they decided it would be a bad idea to ask her permission. Forgiveness felt better, anyway.
Occupation: Student.
Skills: This depends on which character is present. Alex has almost no skills, except that his calmness is infectious. Jesse knows his way around firearms, knives, and minor explosives, although his physical weakness hinders extended combat. Chris is academic, with a horde of knowledge on most general subjects.
Other: Alex is aware of Chris and Jesse; he speaks with them as though they are standing in front of him, when they converse. He has no conscious knowledge of B's existence.
Elemental Manipulation: Alex: Water, Jesse: Electricity, Chris: Earth
Inventory: Pocket knife, small knapsack, bottle cap (it was more readily available than a Zip-loc bag; there in case he found useful trinkets), notebook, feathery pink pen, wooden pencil, can of root beer, two snack bars, twenty-pack of firecrackers, cigarette lighter, pack of cigarettes. Several buttons, three turkey legs. Swiss army knife.
3 mini flash bombs.
Status: Good
Physical Condition: Weaker than most children his age; intermittent smoker's cough.
Mental Status: Mentally sound ----O-----Insane
Mental Condition: Dissociative identity disorder. So far, three personalities besides Alex's have come into existence; despite this, he can be considered generally mentally stable, because of his knowledge of those personalities.

Document X901-1685
Classified Seraph/8X

Name: Strings Frederickson
Defining Character Aspect: Bloody Sunday Postlude
Illumination Status: Devil's Fifth String. String uses high-level witchcraft as a defensive measure, but does not actively seek out victims. He is a soldier, to be placed as needed.
Role in Leviathan: I'll Be Bach, and Other Classical One-Liners - a Suite. Sade provides cover fire for both entrances and retreats from team jobs.

Leitmotif: Zoltán Kodály - Sonata for Solo Cello, I

Tableau: Strings is playing cello. He has been playing cello for the past few hours, and may be for many more. It's an old cello, the black lacquer on the bridge scathed and melted in places. The f-holes, though, are sanded and waxed to perfection, as though it has never been handled. The strings are similarly beyond perfect, vibrating out a deep hum on the lowest two while the third ripples through gentle arpeggios with the simple, too-delicate movements of his calloused, scarred fingers. The bow, too, spun through with golden rosettes on its brazilwood handle, has not been touched by time or taint.

Strings' monolithic visage features a face untouched by sunlight after many years of weathering it and other atrocities - bleached leather stretched carelessly across a twice-broken nose, ivory scars like wax, cracked and themselves wrinkled through. The green, slightly jaundiced eyes are hidden now underneath a crumpled bowler's cap and eyelids besides, and sagging rings of flesh seem to barely hold them in place. He is not an old man - just an ex-smoker, an ex-drug addict, and an ex-thug. Inside the vast expanse of his brown leather duster is a SOUL-modified Heckler and Koch MP5, strapped to one flap. It's usually unnecessary when Strings provides cover fire, but it's nice to keep around in case he has to work on the move.

Usually, life is more like this. Quiet. Relaxing. Filled with the sound of music - the kind of the life Strings wishes he had led. A small ring of corpses surrounds him in this small warehouse, many charred beyond recognition, others slowly fading into nonexistence as their essence dissolves, no longer anchored to anything physical or spiritual of worth. This cello is his weapon - his solace. Even in this instant, in the two seconds of this arpeggio, a gout of hellfire spews from the symmetric maws of the f-chamber into the gaping mouth of an oncoming beast, the flame rippling with the glorious colors of fire in accordance with the music that produces them, and reduces the attacker to ash.

The piece continues, with minor hellspawn and madmen rushing to the bright flame of the empty building, while Strings' teammates move around to the more-important target. In Strings roil memories of violence and cacophony beget by desperation, and outside of him, they flash into an opposite reality, a euphonic fire to bring rest to other desperate souls.

Document X202 (Excerpt)
Classified Power/3D[/i
Heckler and Koch MP5 - The classic NATO submachine gun, used across the free world by anyone who needs close-quarters equipment. Leviathan MP5s are generally chambered for 10mm Auto, as smaller cartridges are unsuitable to the firepower needs of Leviathan.

Document X204 (Excerpt)
Classified Power/3D
Strings' cello has been enchanted during a long and arduous process to attune his witchcraft and amplify it through the music the cello produces. It will only work with the correct bow and strings, and has been known to consume unwary users in spontaneous hellfire.

Document X303 (Excerpt)
Classified Power/3D
Combustion: creates a small, directed burst of flame. Very basic pyromancy, used for close combat with low cost to the user and little need of control.
Greater Combustion: creates a large, directed burst of flam. Very basic pyromancy, used for close combat with higher cost to the user and greater opportunity for misfiring.
Fireball: shoots a small, exploding projectile ball of flame. Slightly advanced pyromancy, used in ranged combat and requiring average concentration. Size, range, and splash damage increase with experience.

Gaia Name: SiberDrac

Character Name: Tyrose "Ty" Franklin
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Species: Werebeast (fox)
Skills: Exceptionally skilled at "Ghost Recon," "Tetris," and "Super Smash Brothers: Melee." Impressive hip-hop/breakdancer and contemporary dancer. Basic combat training, primarily in were form. Heightened senses of hearing, sight, and smell (species attribute). Quick sprints, high jumps, and agility are his primary skills, making up for his pathetic upper body strength. Able to perceive emotions with ease and lies with 99% accuracy. Retains trivia permanently and learns quickly when he's interested, but otherwise has difficulty excelling academically due to his carefree temperament.
Physical Description:
Human form: about 5'3", with silken, shoulder-length hair and bright, green eyes, always above a boyish grin. He has tanned skin, smooth features, sloe eyes, a delicately pointed chin, and a thin, adolescently athletic body. There is a tiny scar on the left side of his neck, just under his ear, that is usually covered by his hair. He walks and moves fluidly and playfully, but those same eyes that can draw in a woman of any age from a hundred yards away can also pierce into a person's soul. As for clothing, he chooses mostly loose-fitting shirts and pants that flutter in breezes and trail behind his movements like a comet's tail.
Fox form: quite obviously, like a smaller, lither version of the classic werewolf. Slightly taller, but unlike many werebeasts, not exceptionally so. He has bright red fur and the same alluring, green eyes. Even when walking upright, he manages not to look hunched or awkward. His tail is proportionately sized. The scar remains.
Personality: This is a child with a fierce sense of loyalty to his people who does not abide by racial slurs on the werebeast population as a whole or werefoxes in particular. That loyalty is the only readily readable deep moral basis he displays. He is immensely playful and sometimes difficult to keep on track, especially given his customarily shallow senses of value. He is a Bohemian; given the opportunity and the proper alcohol, he'll drink 'til he's drunk and hit on any girl he thinks he has a chance with. Usually, he'll end up in her bed for the night and gone by morning, without once degrading her or treating her like a tool. He'll help an old lady cross the street so he has a chance to look at her jewelry. He'll hold a door for someone because the door looks, in that particular moment, like it would be prettier open. In summary, this is a person who makes people's lives better without that ever being his motivation.
Biography: Born and raised in what was once the United States' good Pennsylvania countryside, he has known virtually no cares. His parents put him to work on the farm, but also doted on him and never really needed much done; the acreage was mostly there for show while the parents worked their own jobs. Strangely, in this time of constant stress and uncertainty, these two people never allowed their son or his twin sister to know what the world was going through. They kept the two of them aware of the strained climate; they were not in a box. However, his parents had met because they were both thespians, and good ones. News of bombings was met with grins; assassinations were turned aside with jokes and laughter. This bred in Ty a general inability to understand negative emotions in other people; they always seemed to bring about bad things.
The single 'bad thing' to ever happen to Ty was the loss of his sister. The two were as close as a brother and sister could possibly be. As twins raised in such unparalleled conditions, they played together, learned together, finished one another's sentences, and, the very few times they were threatened, fought together. They completed one another, as well. Ty was always a little skittish and cowardly; his sister was tomboyish and more curious than cautious. Ty could pacify any situation they ran into with friends at school; his sister incited them. While in the field behind their house at age fourteen, the two of them were searching for a treasure their parents had said was buried back there. While outside, Ty's sister was suddenly lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound in her stomach. Ty blacked out instantly from the shock. When he woke up, she and the blood had vanished. He went back home, and couldn't find his parents.
The police found him days later, playing chess with a ninety-year-old man by the side of a busy street downtown. He had somehow gotten a fast food meal, and the two were sharing it as they played. After that, he was given to a foster family that didn't want him, didn't know what he was, and turned him over to the military of the Hunters' Coven, where he was taught how to better use his power and how to fight. His permanent sense of levity had already been instilled, but what had happened beneath the surface stayed hidden until he began hearing reports of a girl who looked just like him appearing in the area he lived in. Then, still with a grin on his face, he ignored his commanding officers' orders and began to hunt for her. She has remained hidden from him, but he is determined that of all things, this is the most important. His parents forgotten, he searches for his sister and in the meantime carries out whatever assignments he might receive, whether academic or military.
Alliance: Hunter's Coven
Group Membership: none
Supernatural Abilities: In were form, his various senses are heightened yet further. He gains very little height, but his thin arms fill out with lean muscle. His ability to detect emotion is enhanced, but his ability to detect lies actually decreases, due to the pressures of a more feral mindset. He is much faster and, due to the balance provided by his tail, more agile. In addition, part of training for combat was to strengthen his jaw, so in were form he is capable of breaking nearly all smaller creature's necks with the characteristic jerking motions of a fox.

Gaia Name: SiberDrac

Character Name: Catalena Jacobson
Gender: Female
Age: 43
Species: Human-Mundane
Skills: Holds a black belt in jiujitsu and dances a mean tango Argentine. Highly skilled in the delicate arts of the burlesque, while also highly scientifically knowledgeable, particularly in the area of molecular biology. Also trained in the duel-wielding of short swords, although not extensively. Fluent in English, Spanish, French, and multiple dialects of the latter two. Most importantly, she is very, very good at getting what she wants.
Physical Description: At 5'7" and 103 lbs, this woman is a Caribbean goddess, with both African and Spanish influence in the sultry curvature of her face. She is a very dark color and wears gold- lots of it. Hoop earrings the size of her palm hang down from her ears. Her dark eyes are always clear and sepulchral, seducing men nearly as easily as her... other features, which are generally concealed by tight-fitting outfits that show off as much of her muscular legs and arms as possible. She speaks with the lightly clipped, low voice characteristic of her ethnic origins.
Personality: This woman can be genuinely playful at times, but in general, she's out for men, money, power, and any combination of the three she can find. She will rob a man blind and slit his throat rather than just leaving him alone for the morning after. She enjoys the jobs the Tyrgani assign her and goes about them with a frightening fervor. Interestingly, she also tackles mental challenges with that same fervor, drinking in knowledge whenever it is available to her. She was once nearly arrested for slowly siphoning off the scientific periodical archives at a university until someone noticed that entire shelves were empty. They found the volumes in a small, disorganized mountain in a young professor's garage, though, with his fingerprints all over them. Her greatest fault is her pride; insults to it can easily drive her off-target until the origin of the insult is... corrected. In addition, she has patricidal tendencies - domineering, stubborn, male, authoritative figures rouse in her a desire to murder that other profiles do not.
Biography: Catalena was born to aristocrats around the region of Trinidad & Tobego. She never lacked for money as a child, having gifts and services constantly lavished on her. She asked for things, and she got them. Her parents sent her to a private school where, despite her pampered lifestyle, they brutally thrust her into high-level courses and demanded that she succeed. That shift in her parents' personalities was the first crack in her adherence to normal, high-class living. At age twelve, she moved with her family to New York, New York so her father could have better access to the American market. She was again placed in a difficult, private school, where she learned at increasingly excelling rates, still under the firm hand of her father. At age fifteen, he gave her her first book on the art of mental manipulation and treated her mastery of its lore, if not its practice, as he had any other book for school. Over time, she was given more and more of these books in increasingly faded binding and archaic wording. He never gave her a reason to learn or a source for these tomes; only a requirement. Several years later, a scandal erupted that flushed out the entirety of his savings, leaving the family dependent on the mother's relations. After several years of lower-middle-class living that felt like the worst kind of hell, he shot himself, unwilling to depend on his wife for money for what he believed would be the rest of his life. This was the second crack.
Using her vast stores of knowledge and a little creative manipulation involving a night or two out of her own bed, Catalena procured a full ride to MIT, double majoring in biotechnology and molecular biology and eventually graduating suma c** laude, first in her class, and prom queen. Immediately upon her entry to MIT's grad school, she met Siber Terrian, who happened to be a few years her senior. In an effort to make sure she had her name on all of his publications, she spent a night with him. The next morning, he endearingly informed her she had turned herself into a prostitute in a desperate ploy to take revenge on her dead father and that if she couldn't get over that psychological block, she would one day find herself gutted in the basement of a senator's house and buried in sewage. He left with a cheerful grin.
That was the third crack, and the one that made her break.
The instant the war became public, she allied herself with the Tyrgani and demanded to be taught as a Psion and made a part of the Illuminati. While her bloodline forbade actual membership with the latter, she was swiftly inducted as an honorary member due to... politics. With the vast stores of knowledge of telepathic employ she had acquired, she moved up swiftly in the ranks, learning what skills she thought would be most useful in the world and killing more than a few unwitting, male senior officers in the process. She forewent all former moral systems and decided that women cannot be depended upon, men cannot be trusted, and no one was better than she was. Not in the world.
Alliance: Tyrgani Alliance
Group Membership: Psion Union, honorary of the Illuminati
Supernatural Abilities: Classic Psionic skills; kinetics, delusions, telepathy, and a particular strength in the area of hypnotism- with enough time and/or materials, be they flashing lights, the pendulum kept in her pocket, or music, or even her own eyes if she can maintain direct eye contact, she can gain control over a person or animal that does not have the strength/presence of mind to resist her. From there, she can cause them to do a multitude of tasks, although the less a task is in line with something the victim would normally do, the less likely it is Catalena will succeed.

Gaia Name: SiberDrac

Character Name: Rosetta "Rose" Franklin
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Species: Werebeast (fox)
Skills: Advanced combat training (metal claws/gauntlets and bladed boots); mad skateboard skills; capoeira; heightened senses of hearing, sight, and smell (species attributes); decently skilled at crosswords and other puzzles; hip hops pops and locks and that sh** no drop
Physical Description: Human form: about 5'4", with silken, shoulder-length hair and hard, emerald eyes, always above thin, unsmiling lips. She has tanned skin, smooth features, sloe eyes, a delicately pointed chin, and a thin, adolescently athletic body with no features to very significantly define her as female. There are several scars across her body, most notably one like a jagged teardrop under her left eye. She walks and moves with stolid and unbreakable purpose until the moment she enters battle, at which point her movements become fluid and graceful, although her expression doesn't change. Her eyes have unsettled much older men and women than herself. As for clothing, she chooses mostly loose-fitting garments that flutter in breezes and trail ghost-like behind her body.
Fox form: quite obviously, like a smaller, lither version of the classic werewolf. Slightly taller, but unlike many werebeasts, not exceptionally so. Due to a mutation during development, she has stark, black fur and the same hard, green eyes. Even when walking upright, she manages not to look hunched or awkward. Her tail is proportionately sized. The scars remain, in the form of white streaks of fur.
Personality: Rose is staunchly supportive of the Cabal Coalition, to which she belongs, but at the same time, harbors a deep-seated hatred for them. She would never betray them, but at the same time, has been harshly punished more than once for violently assaulting her superiors. More on that in her bio. This is almost always triggered by mention of the weak or frail as useless, because she had spent so much of her life being protective of her brother. Except for those outbursts, she is calm, quiet, and reserved, eats little, and has a little-known passion for fruit smoothies. To her, the world is a set of rooms, much like the chambered nautilus - there is no turning back to the past. Save for her brother.
Biography: Rose is Ty's twin sister. She is the younger by twelve minutes. As such, they grew up in nearly identical situations - hidden from the violence of the world, never really exposed to the harshness of reality until the day she and Ty went exploring in their backyard to find some kind of "hidden treasure." She didn't even hear the gunshot; all she knew was the warm liquid pouring down her chest, and her last image was of Ty fainting to the ground.
When she awoke, a gruff voice explained that it was better this way. Everything was blurry and confusing, but she saw someone putting a gun to Ty's head. Her brother was still unconscious. Through the screaming pain in her chest, she roared, a kind of bloody red filling her vision. The next time she woke up, she could taste copper, and Ty was gone.
The Cabal became her new life. Once it was explained to Rose that she was meant to be a part of it, and once she was shown others of her species, working to preserve the Coalition and more than willing to take her in and teach her their ways, she became enamored of the state. In the back of her mind, she knew for a fact that it had been the Cabal that had taken her from her family, and she could never forgive them for that. The smell of the place, of the people, reminded her of that day. That was why, on occasion, when someone, especially herself, was mocked for being in any way feeble, she had been known to attack the offender with little to no warning. It had gained her scars and broken limbs, but neither of these had broken her spirit of protection. It had also gotten her accolades from her peers and superiors alike, because she never attacked those weaker or on a level with herself; instead, she was able to put the life of those higher in station in danger, without changing her expression and sometimes without even shifting forms.
Her goal now, is to find Ty, by whatever means necessary. As long as her missions take her somewhere she can search.
Alliance: Cabal Coalition
Group Membership: none
Supernatural Abilities: In were form, her senses are heightened yet further. She gains little height, but her musculature fills out significantly. She stays fairly in control of herself, except that her tendency towards violent outbursts increases. She is faster and more agile, though not as much so as her brother. Part of training for combat was to strengthen her jaw, so in were form she is capable of breaking nearly all smaller creature's necks with the characteristic jerking motions of a fox.

Primary Character
Character Name: Siber Roelan Terrian (non-modern-ness explained later)
Gender: male
Age: 21
Race: Caucasian; more specifically, western European
Current Occupation: college student, junior, biochemistry major
Skills: staff work, academic, rational, theatrical, video games, basic martial training
Relationship/Marital Status: single
Physical Description: approximately 5' 10", black hair, deep blue eyes, moderately pale skin, delicate hands, wiry with lean muscle, moves with a distinct grace
Personality: Developed a flair for the theatrical, but remains largely reclusive/introspective. Forms friendships, but does not display them on the surface. He is coldly logical, with an outspoken view on carrying out Darwinistic principles and eliminating (or allowing the death of) weaker members of the human species. Has great respect for education, especially music, and the martial arts. He gets along well with those who are willing to debate intelligently or those who understand him and is undeniably kind when the occasion warrants it, but he remains an enigma to most.
Biography: Born in northeastern U.S.A. as the middle child in a family of five with one younger brother and one older sister, he has learned from his siblings' mistakes that emotions besides joy are pointless, excepting occasional anger. From that stemmed a disrespect for those who are overly emotional or irrational, which birthed an intent dislike of them, and thus were his views born. His emotionlessness gave rise to his love for the theatrical, because theater only requires fake and quickly-shifting emotions. This ended in his decision to adopt a fantastic name as his own, rather than his old name, Karl Andrew Terrian. His interest in biochemistry also stemmed from this, as he loves to entertain the idea of manipulating the fabric of life, DNA. Disregarding outside influence besides his parents' insistence he learn Christian doctrine, he has developed strong spiritual beliefs that are not necessarily restricted to dogmatic monotheism- that is, he believes in an almost Celtic view of nature and chi, or spiritual energy.
Location: college campus, still north-eastern U.S.A.
View of Soul: While others may not necessarily agree, Siber sees himself as a moderately good person, perhaps just crossing over the line between good and evil.
However, it cannot be ignored that he is infinitely helpful to those who honestly seek academic or spiritual aid.

Warlock Soul
Name: Keldan Tomera
Skills: particularly fond of mental torture and anguish, he enjoys peering into a person's psyche and anticipating their various reactions; kind of a social spider on the surface, one might say.
Personality: generally courteous and generous, Keldan most frequently hid a very deep anger whenever slighted and used societal manipulation to wreak revenge rather than take any direct action; however, when really pissed off, most frequently by a refusal to accept the truth or an assassination attempt, he would use his mental and magical prowess to submit the victim to mental agony, usually letting them off alive and functional but sometimes, on a whim, gibbering and witless for at least the rest of their natural lives
Primary Discipline: Demoniac
Secondary Discipline: Shadow
Preferred Magic Style: Thaumaturge; prepares networks of spells and chain reactions, to be activated when neccesary
Corruption Level: 4
Biography: Doting father of a younger daughter and older son, he is, despite his fascination with social interaction, a mere shopkeeper who upkeeps a friendly exterior and, usually, interior. Born into a poor family, he became quickly disgusted with his life despite his parents' urges to accept his lot in life as a Roman farmer and struck out young hero style to seek his fortune. That failed quickly, at age ten, and he came back less that six months later. Seven years later, after studying politics both social and governmental, he tried again, this time beginning by killing his now-overbearing and violent parents and likewise disposing of his four siblings, covering it all as random Roman persecution (surprisingly easy). From there, he manipulated distant friends and relatives into donating moneys to him and set himself up. Along the way, he became aware of the dark magics and their uses in his power-hungry goals. Being late entering the Cabal, he was moving quickly up through rank when the Church scourged the land for Warlocks and 'died' at age twenty-seven.