Full Name: Libby Marie Santiago
Codename: Salamander
Nickname(s): N/A
Alias(es): N/A
Age: 20
Birth date: March 15, 1994
Classification: Meta-human
Affiliation: Neutral
===PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION===
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: silver gray
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 135lbs
Other: With a light, coffee esque skin tone, black dread-locked hair and soft, silver gray eyes; Libby is a rather unusual sight to behold. The facial features themselves are soft and angular, with a semi-narrow chin, thin jawline, a petite, perky little nose and round, wide soft eyes; giving her a very adorable, if puckish appearance..
Clothing:Libby's choice of clothing is militaristic and simple, rugged and tough. Starting off at the pants, we have a pair of baggy forest camouflage printed cargo jeans, made out of denim and cotton. They provides a nice bit of comfort, while maintaining a rugged appearance. A specialized belt is looped around her waist, two secondary loops extend from the belt, designed to support a pair of hip bags, carrying various items. Mostly her school stuff but she also likes to hide junk food, energy drinks, and other things that are considered highly unhealthy within those heavy burlap bags.
Libby's vest is short cut, ending just at the sternum and has a light, desert camouflage print. A pair of pockets, situated just above her breasts are once again, usually stuffed with bags of candy or chocolate bars. The vest is made with a dual layered rubber lining, cotton is firmly sandwiched between the two layers and the surface of the vest is made out nylon, giving it a rugged exterior with an all purpose interior.
As you may or may not know, Libby likes to wear bandage wraps on her arms, legs, torso and head. It's due in part to her capoeira training. But she's gotten so used to them, that she only ever takes them off when she showers, sleeps or washes them. Another miscellaneous accessory that Libby has is a tattoo on her left shoulder. It's tribal in origin, with various lines zig-zagging to form an intricate pattern with a half circle on the outside, and a crooked half square pattern on the inside, with lines that branch off into strange, sharp angles. The tattoo was done by her adoptive father of all people and it's a reminder of her adoptive father and of her original origins.
===POWERS===
Powers:
- Pyrokinesis - The easy going, yet hotheaded hottie from Jamaica is, not surprisingly, a pyro. Libby however, unlike most other pyrokinetics, has an extremely easy time generating and manipulating flames. She can also change the temperature in an immediate range of fifteen feet around her, generate blinding clouds of hot ash and dust that obscures and masks her presence, as well as generate various blasts of fire. Fireballs are well, obvious and generally self-explanatory.
temperature control - A simple feat that doesn't require her to generate a flame, so much as increase the surrounding temperature around herself, in a fifteen to twenty five foot radius, with a maximum capped temp of around fifty five degrees Celsius. Libby can either make it so your comfortable and warm during, say, winter, or suffering horribly in a faux death valley.
Pyric Combat - A physical based sub-ability, Libby can imbue her physical attacks with fire, heat, and combustive forces that hit with surprising force and strength that her otherwise lithe frame doesn't possess on it's own. Purely offensive in it's nature, Pyric Combat has one goal, just one in mind; hit hard, hit first, hit fast and hit last. Lacking it's own defense, Libby relies on her salamander form to provide her with some staying power. For an example Libby can generate a focused blast of heavy pressure and flame from her fists or feet on contact, the impact is strong enough to burn with flame and strong enough to pummel with the explosive concussive blast of force being forced forwards during her attack. At her strongest, the blasts hit with about eight tons of force, at their weakest, about half a ton of force.
cherry bombs - A unique and fun little attack designed to keep her targets well on their toes. The cherry bomb as it's so aptly named, are small cherry bomb sized fireballs that explode one after another, in an immediate fashion. While an individual cherry bomb isn't powerful enough to cause significant harm, getting caught in the simultaneous blasts will almost guarantee three or four of them striking you at the same time. They also have a nasty tendency to set things on fire easier then her bigger attacks, which are more concussive and heat based, instead of being made of fire and high pressure heat.
Salamander - Libby's matured somewhat in her powers development, what once used to be simple scales that dotted her body has become more reptilian in it's entirety. While maintaining the same defensive functions of her original scales (her salamander form's durability is around five and a half tons), as well as becoming entirely immune to fire and heat, Libby seems to grow small horns on her head, while her skin turns black with blotches of fiery yellow and orange as hard bony plates grow across her shoulders, belly, back and chest region.
Like a lizard, Libby's salamander form grows a tail. Four feet in total length and rather strong, being made entirely out of muscle with a support structure of cartilage. It's capable of supporting herself by grabbing hold of ledges or handholds, meaning it's also actually strong enough to lift a fully grown adult man weighing close to two hundred pounds.
- Regeneration (limbs and tissue damage) - Libby's body has, ever since the accident on the cargo ship, been capable of slowly regenerating damage done to her; including limb amputation. The process takes a while, depending on the damage, a week for a lost limb, hours for severe tissue trauma and minutes for minor scraps and cuts that would otherwise need a kiss and a band-aid.
Weaknesses:
- Water - As we all know from playing all those wonderful roleplaying games and Pokemon, Water can typically beat out fire. For Libbey this holds true and especially more so, if she were to use her Salamander skin ability. Effectively water can already extinguish fire and make her a sopping wet mess, but with the addition of her protective skin, the water can actually cause her agony as the scales sizzle and hiss. Rapidly cooling down and cracking. So all in all, she has a doubled weakness in terms of water.
- Oxygen - Oxygen or rather a lack of Oxygen is a problem for two reasons. One she needs it to breathe and two, she can't spark a fire without the primary food that fire consumes to keep itself sustained. Creating vacuums, that is to say, a spacial void lacking air and oxygen is a good way to snuff a fire, or cause her to suffocate and pass out.
- Food - Libby's metabolism is absolutely insane. For starters when she sheds her salamander form, she immediately loses about 35 pounds (which comes from the bone plates and tail shedding from her body) which causes lethargy, nausea and other unpleasant things to happen, it also leaves her at her weakest point and incredibly ravenous. And her regeneration certainly taxes her caloric intake some as well.
===PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE===
Strengths:
- capoeirista - Libby's very adept with the rhythmic based Brazilian fighting style, known as Capoeira.
- Friendly - Libby's the friendly type of person, easy to get along with, and generally does her best to appreciate how others think.
- unpredictable - Due in part to her capoeira training, Libby is quite unpredictable in a fight due to the constant motion utilizing her arms and legs, even a relatively experienced fighter has some difficulty in discerning where she may attack from..
- agile - Libby's an agile girl, very graceful and quick on her feet. So much so that she often looks as if she's turned any one of her daily routines into a dance.
- precise - Libbey's main strength in a fight is that she's very quick and precise; accurate, knows how to control her own body. She can just as easily, with great accuracy tap a person on the nose with a quick jab, as she could dodge, dance and weave around classmates in school.
- Body language - Libbey's a smart girl, good with emotions and most importantly, body language. a twitch of the eyebrow, a heavy raising and lowering of the chest. Things like these do not generally escape her eye as she examines and watches for signs of hostility or general unease in someone she's talking to. It's harder to talk to someone who isn't willing to listen, than it is to break a rock.
Skills:
- Expert level capoeirista
- Is good at dancing
- adept at street brawls
- Knows how to fight dirty
- Has a good memory for faces, names and places.
- Adept at cooking for herself or others.
- working with others
- Learns quickly
Equipment: Quite literally? Her hands, feet, knees and elbows can all be considered her most precious equipment, as is her brain and eyes. Her hands and feet are important in that they allow her to attack with fire, heat and solid as a brick wall, physical attacks. Her brain lets her think on the fly, and her eyes let her watch movements while her brain works out which way she should dodge, in case an attack where to come for her. Same goes for her elbows and knees, these too are used for striking and even blocking an attack if a dodge is not currently possible.
Lately however, Libby has begun carrying around old beer bottles filled with gasoline, as well as jars of flour for reasons only she knows.
Habits/Quirks: Quirks: One of her biggest quirks is that not much can phase this dynamic hot spot of flamboyant optimism and exuberance. Being what she is, Libbey can get a bit overly excited when meeting new or strange people and finds the unique differences in people to be fascinating. Needless to say, she takes everything in great big strides with little difficulty.
Habit/quirk: Another of Libbey's habits and quirks, is that she is so used to eating candy that she does it to the point of not realizing, that she's scarfing down a handful of jelly beans.
Personality:Libby's the kind of girl that can't help but want to help people. Extremely polite and kind, Libby is never one to shy away from people, no matter how different they may be in both appearances and personalities. Chatty, but not to an extreme, Libby can be quiet when required and has always been there with a kind word for anyone that needs a little morale boost. Libby's outlook on life is cheerful and quite sunny and as such it reflects in her whole stature; a bit bouncy and perky, but capable of keeping calm when required.
Oddly enough for one her age, Libbey can be a bit more friendly then some would find comfortable, until you got to know her that is. Flirty and sexual in a lot of her actions, she can come off as one great big tease to just about anyone. Especially, towards those she likes to a great deal - often taking pleasure in making them embarassed, or flustered. Even hot and bothered. Because when you're Libbey, everyday is a strange day; so she might as well add onto it where possible and she certainly does like making with the nice nice when she's feeling generous. But don't think she's one of those promiscuous types, oh no, that's not her at all - she doesn't do the whole third base thing. Maybe second base, or even first and a half base; but never third.
A fighters spirit is something one won't have to look far to find within this girl, as Libbey just loves a good tussle when someone asks for it. Challenges and hardships make bonds stronger and a good old round of roughhousing for Libbers, is right up her alley. Combative and showy at times, there are few things she likes in this world in reverse order; ginger beers, flustering someone she finds hot and fighting. All of these things are things she loves but fighting, inevitably takes the cake here. There's a big difference between relaxing with a spicy ginger beer, and a good heart pumping blood boiling bout of fisticuffs. Simple enough, Libbey just loves the excitement of a good old fashioned brawl.
Protective of those weaker then her, Libbey is a bit of a bleeding heart and like it was stated before - she can't, not stop helping people that really need it. God forbid if she lets someone she knows, she could have protected get hurt, it would hurt her just as bad. And people can probably use that against her. She abhores firearms with a zealous passion. Revering them as nothing more then simple tools of murder and pain invented by primative minds, and further evolved by advanced minds with the primative need to kill and take, and kill some more. A gun stole her adoptive fathers life and the mere sight of, or even notion that someone has one, and is willing to use it, can throw her into a fever pitch of swearing, cursing and if it comes down to it; Absolute violence.
Quirky habits and stranger thoughts, Libbey is an oddity, an anomaly and most certainly, someone you could call the least predictible human around. Flippant, witty and a little eccentric at times - she is a great friend, a greater ally and the greatest of moral support around. So it comes as no surprise that this girl, who grew up on an island nation of the Greater Antilles, better known as Jamaica for five years is a spry, enthusiastic young women now. Possessing the lively, carefree, robust and youthful spirit of Jamaica itself. She can be best described as crazy, with a dash of clarity and a certain panache, that leaves those not used to flamboyance, or reckless courage in the face of adversity stunned and most likely very, very shocked.
===PERSONAL BACKGROUND===
Family: Gabriel Santiago - adopted father - Deceased; Actual birth parents - Currently unknown.
Place of Origin: Jamaica, then moved to Brazil with her adoptive father.
Current City: Jump city
History:Libbey, you see, wasn't originally from the united states. Having been born and raised for most of her life on Jamaican soil and being a native of Jamaica where it was sunny, beautiful and most of all. Hot. She was an orphan, doing odd jobs, menial tasks, and everything in between, just to earn a few dollars to eat for the day; to say that it was hard and dangerous would be an absolute understatement, especially for a five year old girl. She had to learn how to move and avoid the local thugs in the city she resided in; people, who wanted to steal what meager little supplies she had. One such day was very unlucky for her, as she found herself trapped by three large, powerfully built men. These men weren't interested in nothing more then the stuff she carted around, the small valuables she was tasked to deliver, things that might fetch a pretty penny from tourists with an interest in hand crafted goods.
For a little girl getting beaten half to death, even for anyone, it's a terrifying experience. The hands pounded and bruised her, breaking the skin and causing thin streams of crimson to flow freely across her body. It was a damned sight worse then a simple shooting or stabbing, and after they had their fill of physically beating someone nearly a quarter their size into a horrid state of pain, they stole off with her goods to sell off themselves, and as she lay there, her only good eye which hadn't swollen over from the pain and bruising, stared upwards into the clear blue sky. A cloud was what she situated her blurry gaze upon, it was shaped like a spider; white and wispy, like smoke and as she slowly blacked out, a shadowy figure hovered over her, reaching for her.
It was a shock, a fright, unmitigatedly terrifying even when she woke up in a dim room, her arm in a sling and something cold over her swollen, black and blue eye. As her eye adjusted to the dimness, she spied a person sitting across from her with bronzed brown skin, short, stubbly black hair and from what she could tell a large jagged scar that originated at the hairline, cutting suddenly across his eye, and ending at the tip of his chin. He was the man responsible for patching her up, and tending to her wounds, a man who was visiting from as far away as the south Americas. Libbey was not only surprised by the kindness of a complete stranger, especially one that wasn't even a local but by the fact he even took the time to tend to her and watch over her, for what felt like hours to her but in actuality, had been roughly four and a half days.
Pain shot through her like electricity as she struggled to sit up the man standing up and in a short, scant few steps had a hand on her forehead, preventing her from sitting up as he gently pushed her back down, shaking his head. As he sat back down he spoke up; asking her what she did here, why those men had attacked her, and if she could have, would she have defended herself. Libbey was flabbergasted by his sudden curiosity and interest in her and couldn't help but answer his questions one by one, almost as if the man's very presence commanded it. He nodded to each one and opened his eyes on the last, a small grin on his face as he slapped his hands together with a loud bang. Satisfied with the apparent response.
What was that response? It was without hesitation and maybe, laced with unmitigated anger. But what was it? it was a resounding yes. It was not a whisper, it was not a growl, it was a surprisingly powerful shout as she mustered up what little strength she had left in her bruised, injured body and shouted it almost as if she were trying to tell the world she wouldn't get hurt, ever again.
Seeing that she herself was an orphan, and a young one to boot the man had decided to adopt her. It wasn't odd for someone to adopt a child from a different country. In fact, a lot of adoptions happened in different cities by people from different countries and this was no different. It took them several more months to work out the papers, as he stayed out his visit and by then Libbey was six years of age; a fiery little girl who, without a doubt, was quite a little spitfire. The plane trip was uneventful, stopping several times over and over in differing countries until they arrived in Rio, the second largest city in Brazil.
Now back to that question of if she could defend herself, it wasn't just a stupid, out of the blue question asked by some random stranger. Her adoptive father, Gabriel, was a maestro; a teacher of Capoeria. Now this type of martial arts was difficult, with countless moves all stemming from a single movement style, Libbey certainly had her work cut out for her. Her adpotive father, mentor and oddly enough, best friend was a jovial optimistic man, who was helpful and kind- with strangely enough, quite the temper. Gabriel Santiago was a brilliant man, inventive and some would say crazy. And they were right on every count.
Roughly ten years of her life passed by in a flash of bruises, sore swollen joints from excessive training and paternal bonding with her adoptive father. She was a grown women at that point; tall, lithe and agile with thick rows of hair, tied up into traditional Jamaican dreadlocks. Her skin was a light color, like coffee with too much cream and her ice blue eyes shone brilliantly in any amount of light. So it wasn't surprising quite a few guys were, well, smitten with her uniqueness. One man in particular was a lieutenant from one of the many local cartels; Las muertes cabeza, the deaths head.
They weren't a large cartel, not well known either, but they more than made up for that in sheer tenacity and sheer violent brutality. She spent months ignoring the man's advances, focusing instead, on her training. Everytime, this so called "gentlemen" approached her she shunned and ignored him, heeding Gabriel's warnings about men like him with to the letter. But men like that don't give up, they don't stop and sometimes, they take extreme measures to get what they want.
It happened a month after her seventeenth birthday, several men arrived at their home and from the looks of things, armed with machetes, knives and whatever else they could use to maim, harm and kill. Libbey was asleep when the door was battered down with a crack, startling her awake and shaking her out of her cot with a thud. Her father was already up and about, confronting the men, shouting and screaming various obscenities at them. They wanted Libbey, the person he raised for eleven years of his life and with those gray hairs on his head as testament to that, he was not gonna give her up without a fight. Like a hurricane he swayed to the left, catching the man farthest to the right on the jaw with the boney part of his palm.
A loud crack almost immediately confirmed a dislocation, as the mans jaw moved out of alignment causing Libbey to wince as she watched her father dance around these men, pummeling and obliterating them with precise, lightning fast kicks and hand slaps. For a moment, a split second she thought he was going to win, drive them back and away, when a loud crack like thunder tore through the house. Libbey jumped at the sound, covering her ears and only looking up when the ringing stopped and only then did she see what had happened; one of the men had drawn a large handgun, putting two or three rounds into his chest, dropping him in a crumpled heap.
It happened in a flash as Libbey bounded over to Gabriel, putting his head in her lap listening to him gasp and wheeze, struggling to pull what few words he had left, out of him. It was a weak raspy last words moment, hard to hear but it hit her in the gut like a balled up fist. He wanted her to be happy, wanted her to get away from this place and as she sat there she felt this acidic feeling in her stomach, this vile little lump that made her want to vomit. And as the man pointed the gun at her, something clicked. He was a protector, someone who helped people whenever possible, the words the man said were drowned out by a buzzing sound in her ears, as she shot up and caught the man square on the chin with her fist.
As the man hit the ground, half conscious and aware of her lingering presence, the man groaned in agony, his jaw dislocated. Her ice blue eyes bore into him as she knelt down over him, watching him beg and plead for his life; an exchange of sorts. The man was obviously wealthy judging from the ivory handled grip, and gold embossed engraved surface of his handgun. The only thing she demanded was cash, enough for a plane ticket out of here, away from him and every single problem that plagued this place. He agreed without a single ounce of hesitation, pulling an immensely fat wad of hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and pocket. More then enough for a one way trip.
Snatching it up and out of his hands, Libbey kicked him hard in the face and walked back to her room. Five minutes after the adrenaline rush had worn off she simply vomited on the spot, clutching her stomach and crying. The words Gabriel spoke still ringing around her head like a bell. She was scared, terrified even about what was going to happen to her at that point. She didn't belong here anymore, she was surely a marked target for death and that's what scared her so much, she was going to die if she stayed here and mourned over her fathers death anylonger. She had to leave, and now.
But to where? There wasn't enough here to pay for an overseas retreat, nor was there enough for her to get a planet ticket to america. But what if, just, what if, she bribed a ship captain to smuggle her out of Brazil, out of that horrid, amoral place and into the Americas - away from the cartels - and away from certain death?
It was certainly worth a shot, if any shot was to be given. Packing up a small duffle bag with at least two spare changes of clothing, and some snacks, Libbey took off through the streets of Rio, her feet slapping against pavement as she dashed between cars and through alleyways, her movements, the way she breathed, even all the way down to how she sighed, everything was full of apprehension and anxiety; she was scared of being caught, scared of what she might have to do, just to survive. She was still only a human. A regular old, run of the mill, fragile as a leaf human.
She would die if she stayed and she might die if she left, she was damned one way or another, a giant gamble that she'd have to take; if she lost, she'd never be happy again.
Never again would she be able to look back and see her father's smile, nor see her friends, nor feel the hot, tropical sun against her skin, warming her body and soul with love and care. She was leaving to save herself, a pittance to pay for safety, freedom and life. Brazil was just a death sentence, tightly wrapped in the warm embrace of tropical sunshine, resorts and corruption. She lost a friend once, taken away and never to be seen again. Drug cartels were horrible; dirty, monstrous, soulless abominations that deserved to be burned down around their creators ears. That alone wouldn't give her peace of mind. No, the government would have to die as well and that in itself, was a strict impossibility.
But as she reached the docks, her hands clutching the money tightly within her grip she felt hope rise up in her chest; a twinge, small and subtle but nonetheless, it was hope she felt. There was a cargo ship that was still docked in port, loading and unloading cargo for the return trips it had to make. If she could bribe someone, the captain maybe she could pull herself onto the ship as a 'crew member' and during the next arrival into the states, disembark and disappear into the masses.
It was worth a shot at least.
She searched high and low, inside and outside, trying her hardest to find the captain when a great big meaty hand clasped onto her shoulder, causing her to freeze up. It wrenched her around so hard and fast that her head had been metaphorically spun. The man was huge, easily six foot eight, with more muscle then a clydesdale horse and a gruff "take no %#!@ from nobody posture" in his stance - he had to have been the captain, just had to be. When he asked her why she was snooping around the docks at such a late point in the evening his voice had a booming quality to it but it wasn't loud or harsh, it was more curious and skeptical.
He probably thought she was a thief, trying to steal some fruit or perhaps something else that might be of more.... material value. When his hand touched a cellular phone and brought it out, Libbey started jabbering, chittering off in near fluent Portuguese at the man with a frantic speed and pace that, while he couldn't understand her, he understood, more or less, spoke of the urgency in her voice and that she was very, very nervous of being out in the open. He simply hauled her aboard the ship, sat her down on a chair and looked at her long and hard from under those furrowwed, fog gray eyebrows.
Raising up one hand as she began to speak again, the man growled out his words slowly, as if trying to recollect them. This in turn, caused Libbey to quiet town, it felt as if the chair she sat upon, which had been bolted to the floor, shook with each word. He wanted her to slow down her pace, and with what ever little english she knew, he wanted her to explain to him her problem.
She did so in a more or less diminished capacity. Her English, while far from terrible wasn't all that great either. She explained to him of her fathers death, how she escaped from the last man standing, in a fit of impassioned rage and stole from him. All she was asking in return for not being turned over to the police was to be exported into the states, she had money to pay for her trip, stolen as it was, and she could even preform menial labor and some heavy lifting if need be. She was fit enough for it to say the least.
The man simply scratched his chin, his fingers grating across his stubbled chin with an audible scratching sound; like sandpaper across a rock. The man was slow in his judgement but slowly nodded to her. Anyone that desperate to get away from this place was perhaps a-okay in his books, thief or no thief. As sunny and as nice as it was, even that man could see how miserable the people living in this "tropical paradise" were. It made no difference to him if he had one extra mouth to feed on this long trip, but to her, it made all the difference in the world.
It was just bubbling over into the next day, the sun was just peeking up and over the horizon, casting it's dark golden presence across the water. Simply beautiful, and the last time she'd ever see something so beautiful again, at least for a little while. Libbey was hard at work with the rest of the men, overalls and none of wraps in place to hide her rather ideal features. The cargo too small for the containers, were stacked up onto large layers of pallets, before being strapped in to prevent injury to the crew.They had already set sail by the time the last pallet had been secured and they where on their way across the ocean and back towards the states.
It was easy sailing from now on, or so Libbey thought. Some of the younger guys were all over her like, well, like white on rice. Of course she wasn't going to fall for a salty seaman at sea now, she had standards to live by! Besides, not a single one of em had boyish good looks; too gruff and weather worn for her tastes. But oh well, the work kept her occupied nonetheless.
Days went by without fail, as she did whatever work it was that needed doing at the time. Fulfilling, hard work that got her worked up into a sweat at the end of the day. While she wasn't good with mechanical stuff, she was at least good with cooking and her eyes were pretty sharp. Coupled with her agility in and around the heavy machines, as she shimmied around below decks whenever something went wrong, she proved to be a rather big help for the onboard ship mechanic; she spotted it, he fixed it. In her mind, it was like spotting a weakness in someones guard, when it was found you sprang your attack at that moment and not a moment sooner or later. Hard days of work above and below deck, kept her mind off the troubles back home and for that, she had to thank that big, goliathan bear of a ship captain.
They were nearing the final leg of their journey, day fifteen on a two week journey when ultimately, a rather nasty accident happened in the cargo hold. Something had gotten loose, something they had been transporting. Whatever it was, it was a brute of a critter; it had sheared the inch thick steel cargo container open with brute force and killed, mauled and eviscerated anyone in the cargo hold foolish enough to linger.
Libbey was no fool, but then again she wasn't wise either.
She never got a good look at the thing as it killed several people. It's thrashing and rampaging had done some ideal damage to the ships cargo hold as water rushed in, slowly causing it to flood. She was the last one left in the hold, trying to get out and away from whatever was killing everyone with such reckless abandon. She couldn't fight it, whatever it was, it'd tear her to pieces. As she leaped for a stack of barrels, the straps gave away with a snap like a gunshot, as she and the barrels smashed into the icy cold, pitch black salt water with a splash. The last thing she remembered before her life began flashing before her eyes, was a strange yellowish green liquid that was seeping into the water and a pair of large, massive hands grabbing her by the arms before she blacked out.
Her first initial thought at that point was a logical one. Am I dead? is this what death feels like? cold and suffocating. Yeah, that must be what it felt like. But there was one variation from the whole thing, a gentle rocking that shook her from her feverish, sickly dreams. She was wrapped up in a thick blanket in the corner of a life boat, set adrift on the ocean. The old man was sitting there, his head lowered towards the ground in silence as Libbey shakily got into a seated position.
Where was she, how did she get on this boat and why? Those where the three questions that had her fevered mind working in high gear as she looked at the big old man sitting across from her, as silent as the sea itself. Mustering the courage to reach over and touch his shoulder, she jerked back when a bright flash of light illuminated the boat, blinding her temporarily. It was faint at first, but this faint sound of air being whipped, quickly grew to a crescendo that was not only quite deafening, but it caused her throbbing head to only ache more. The sound of boots tapping onto the wood, coupled with the feeling of the boat rocking caused her to look up at a slim man, no older then twenty six as he grabbed her by the waist and with a quick tug of the cable, began to haul them both up.
Woefully, she did protest, in a weak raspy little voice. She asked about the other man in the boat, that big hulking shape of a man. The coast guard man stayed silent for as long as possible before telling her that he had died, that, judging by his wounds. He didn't go down without a fight, nor did he go down without saving you. It was a painful memory, she would have to live with; a kindly bear of a man taking her onto his ship out of pity and a feeling of paternal sorrow, when it didn't in the slightest, benefit him and in the end it simply caused his death.
All of her belongings she had brought with her were gone and maybe, that was for the best. She could start off fresh and new, all of her good memories and her bad to keep her company, keep her strong and proud, as she set off to find her place in the world.
It has been two weeks since the incident that killed hundreds of people and sunk a cargo ship and Libbey has settled in quite well in Jump city. Her powers, while most are simple in nature, are slowly being understood with experimentation and practice, to see what she can and cannot do. She has been placed with a foster care family for the time being. With her still being a minor she has been summarily placed into Jump city high for her continued education. For Libbey, this is a joy and an experience after having been home schooled for most of her life and one has to wonder, just what kind of mischief she can get herself into.
Sample RP 
Mon Jan 22, 2024 9:45 pm by 
Subject: The Salamander. 
