Digimon: Broken Code (SU)

[wayjun]

Wait a moment there! I had Darkdramon chosen as the final form for my character. I know the reservation lists it as Gaiomon(it is now the slide), but I had discussed it before with the GM. If it is first come, first serve, then I'll have Chaosdramon as the final digievolution. I'll also have the WIP up late today(the History portion seems to be determined to prevent me from finishing it).

[CuriousHeartless]

Here are my Sign-ups. I made them opposite characters,mainly because I like bipolar posts. Also, I've only checked other SU's to make sure I don't steal forms, so sorry if either of my characters are really close to someone else in personality or appearance.

Name: Ken Blackstock
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Ken is rather average looking in stature. He isn't the tallerst or the shortest, nor is he the fatest,s kinniest, most muscular, or least muscular. He is just average, practically the embodiment of it. He has shaggy brown hair that he keeps in a semi-controlled mop and dull green eyes. His lips are dry and chappes, so he carries around some chapstick. A scar runs up his left arm from an old bike accident.

Ken wears dark clothes most of the time. His shirt is some shirt for a band he can never remember, and is only even named on the tag. It has a pattern of broken, bloodcovered glass in the background and a red demonic statue standing in the foreground. He wears black pants that are a bit too big and a grey leather belt, switching to shorts and no belt when it is hot out. When it is colds, he dons a red and black striped jacket. He keeps his digivice in his front right pocket.

His digimon forms have his dull green eyes and lack the Digital Hazard symbols.

Personality: Ken is a pessimistic person, but an effective one. He is enough of a realist to recognize that even if things can always go wrong, and seemingly usually do, you still need to work for stuff. He works hard in bursts or in the rare case he gets excited or absolutely annoyed, but is lazy most of the time. When someone mentions something, Ken is usually the first to voice his opinion and usually rather negative about it. Despite his pessimism, there are three things he greatly values and will actually be willing to look on the bright side for: staying alive, friends and family, and having a laugh.

His sense of humor has taken a bit of a dark twist, but he enjoys a good joke. He is also good at befriending others due to his lessened pessimism to them. When he does get annoyed or angry, his fighter side comes out. The slight southern accent he has comes out stronger and he will fight until either him or the other guy can't keep up anymore. He also doesn't much care for orders, so while he follows them he is known to mumble under his breath a lot when doing something someone else tells him. Ken refuses to admit it, even to himself, but he is easily smitten and listens to women he finds attractive without complaining, sometimes without even noticing for small things.

History: Ken was born in the Texan town of Safe Haven. True to its name, it actually was a safe haven and there were never any Digimon attacks there. He was the youngest of two children, he has a sister two years older than him. His father was a minister, and his mother a manager at a local grocer. He grew up a slightly-above-average live in a nice neighborhood. Despite pretty much always looking rather grim, he made friends in school and was a good A and B student. He only learned of the Digimon invasion because of the news, since he never saw them. He wasn't concerned, even thought it was just some big dramatic thing all these news outlets were making up for a while. At age twelve he got into the bike accident which gave him the scar mentioned in his appearance. It really wasn't anything major, nothing even sprained or broken, just a bad scar.

When he was fifteen, there was a Digimon attack on a town just a couple miles from Safe Haven. Scared, his parents decided to move the family. Event hough it looked good at the time, it turned out to be a terrible idea. Safe Haven is still a safe haven which has avoided a digimon attack through luck. The town they moved to, a quaint little town-as his mother called it- called Sandhill became a target a year after they moved there. The attack killed many and destroyed most of the town, and a quaint litle town wasn't getting army support quick so the only way to survive was to evacuate. The sudden attack left Ken with a sense of pessimism which rew as the next three towns he moved to all quickly became attacked. While him and his family survived every attack, Ken was still affected by them.

In the fifth town he lived in in just three years, Ken finally found peace. Well, until a few routine tests at a local hospital, including a new one which was said to test for a new infectious disease, turned up some surprising results. He had a mutant gene, or as he and hsi family were told, he was infectious and had to be taken into quarantine. Ken actually didn't mind the forced transformation into a bio-hybrid, since it finally gave him a chance to kill the monsters that ruined his life.

Digimon: Blackgrowlmon
Higher Forms: Blackfrowlmon, Megidramon, Chaosgallantmon
Lower Form: Blackguilmon, GIgimon

Other: Carries a broken necklace that looks like an owl. He found it shortly before the attack on Sandhill and planned on returning it to its owner before the attacks started. Now he keeps it as a reminder of the past.

--------------

Name: Felix Bel
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Gender: Male
Appearance: Felix is a very athletic man. He is a wide, tall guy with a lot of muscle. Felix keeps his lond hair shaved down to a light fuzz. His eyes are a bright blue with green flecks. A goofy smile is usually plastered across his face, getting even bigger and a bit odd looking when he is annoyed or sad. The only time the smile actually leaves his face is when he is too overcome with an emotion to keep it up. He doesn't like to let them be seen, but he has scars around his waist from an attack.

He wears a red sweater over an undershirt. When it gets hot, he takes off the sweater, when it gets cold he puts it back on. He wears shorts pretty much year round, even when it is cold out. Felix's shoes are worn Nikes, worn but comfortable. He wears the class ring of his class, the last one at his high school before it was destroyed.

His Digimon forms have his blue eyes and he has a slightly higher muscle mass as an Elecmon, the higher forms are already rather muscular.

Personality: He is a very happy person. He always is smiling, even when he isn't happy. But he is also emotionally sensitive, and can jump between different emotions quickly. The only one who can usually tell when he has a mood jump is himself because he doesn't like looking unhappy. On the once in a blue moon occassions where he loses his cool, he really loses his cool and pretty much loses himself to emotion. Despite being large enough to not have to take anyone as a threat, he rarely sticks up for himself and is a very submissive person. He likes doing things for others, it makes him feel like he has a meaning in life and can help change others for the better. Felix is an optimist, always looking for the good in people and situations no matter how little there is. Whenever something bad happens, he tries to just turn it around and look forward even more to the good things he is certain are waiting in the future. He is a very athletic person and loves playing sports and games, even ones that aren't physical like board games and some video games.

Felix is desperate for attention and is always trying to make friends. He lacks a personal space and can be desperate to impress others. Despite his friendly nature, his desperation to make friends at any cost have often gotten him odd looks and being left out. He cannot stand anything he cannot find good in, like bullying, which is one of the few things to make him go really angry. Felix loves feel good books and movies, reading and watching them anytime he can. He isn't the brightest bulb in the box and lacks some common sense, but he was smart enough to pass school and can survive.

History: He came from a broken home. His parents divorced when he was little and he jumped between them. When he was five, his mother remarried. His stepfather was a bit of a drunk, but actually not that bad. And then his seventh birthday hit. A week later, his father committed suicide, devastating the young boy. He now lived with his mom and stepfather full time. While the housing arrangements weren't bad, he was constantly moping around and picked on at school for being larger than most kids his age. When he was nine, his mother caught a chronic disease that killed her two years later and his stepfather got mugged and shot leaving the funeral. Now without anyone left, Felix was absolutely crushed and orphaned. He was adopted amazingly fast, especially for a large boy approaching teenhood.

His adopted father was a youth football coach who got him into sports and taught him to turn his painful past into lessons about dealing with the future and looking for the good in stuff. The digimon attacks started a few years ago, but didn't reach his town until his sophomore year in high school. The attacks were dealt with and there was not much that changed in the small town. But then the attacks returned in greater force a couple years later, right around the graduation of Felix's class. He was attacked by a weasel like digimon which scrateched him badly around his waist. The attack was dealt with and he was taken to a hospital to be treated. There, it was discovered that he had the mutation. Told he had a dangerous infection, he was taken to quarantine. In reality, this was when he was turned into a bio-hybrid. He misses his adopted father, but looks forward to being able to use his powers to protect others.

Digimon: Elecmon
Higher Forms: Leomon, Grapleomon, Saberleomon, Dinotigermon
Lower Forms: Tsunomon, Punimon

[Elysian]

edited a minor detail under "Other"

[storymasterb]

Wayjun: I don't remember you discussing with me. Weird. Well, I'll put you with Chaosdramon then, since ideally I want to keep people with different Digimon forms to liven things up.

CuriousHeartless: I am admittedly slightly leery about ChaosGallant and the BlackGrowlmon line due to them basically being palette swaps of Alexander's forms, but I suppose we can work with them. And Ken seems interesting anyway. Both Ken and Felix are Accepted.

[wayjun]

Here is you mentioning something about me and the whole Darkdramon thing. My definition of "discussion" is very off.

Wayjun: That ought to be fine, though in that case Darkdramon would be the main Mega and Gaiomon would be the Slide. But yeah, it's fine.

I was kinda set on a humanoid Dragon Digimon, so I'll go search again. Chaosdramon somehow doesn't fit with the whole "dark dragon Digimon" theme, but who knows. ._. Maybe I'mbeing weird about Chaosdramon being not a " dark dragon Digimon", or maybe I'm getting confused because most Digimon fit within the "dark=evil" color scheme. At this point...I don't know. Your choice.

...This will teach me to complete SUs faster. Anyways, please put my reserve back on Gaiomon, and take off Gaiomon.

[storymasterb]

Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I completely forgot about that :<. Yeah, I'll fix that.

[Deadly.Braviary]

If this is still open, drop me a reserve. I'll hopefully have my SU up in the next few days, I'd like to reserve the line Snow Agumon -> Seadramon -> Mega Seadramon -> Surfymon <-(slide evolve)-> Leviamon. If you have a problem with me using Leviamon, I'll change it to something else.

EDIT: Here it is, a WIP.

Name: Michael Brooke

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Appearance: Michael is six feet tall. His eyes are clear, sparkling blue, the colour of the sky on a clear day and his hair is blue-black with an ice-blue streak caused by the transfusion of Digimon data into his body. He's in good shape, lean and tall. Occasionally, he wears a pair of translucent sunglasses to hide the odd looks his eyes earn him. His usual attire consists of a black or white T-shirt (torn at the sleeves for a personal touch) and faded black jeans.

Michael has a small scar across his left eyebrow and a large one across his left forearm from the insertion of his GPS transmitter. They are both retained when he transforms. In his Seadramon / Mega Seadramon forms, the scar on his forearm manifests itself on one of his fins. In his Surfymon form, the one on his eyebrow is a crack on the helmet over his eye.

Personality: Michael is a cold, sarcastic introvert. His brother died in the war, and now he refuses to let himself grow close to anyone. Several people suspect he has a personality disorder, but he was never fully diagnosed. He is normally a pacifist, but if you pull the right triggers, he loses all sense of reason.

After the data transfusion, Michael’s personality became even more fractured. A separate persona - one he calls ‘Frost’ - manifested itself, speaking to him as a voice in his head, and became his dark side, so to speak. Michael believes Frost is the manifestation of all of his negativity, and when he goes into his ‘violent mood’, Michael becomes a spectator and Frost takes over, moving his body like a puppet. When Frost is dominant, Michael is sadistic and overreacts to everything, but when Frost is in the background, Michael simply stays away from people in an attempt to prevent Frost from messing with his head.

History: (WIP)

Digimon Form: Seadramon

Higher Form(s): Mega Seadramon, Surfymon / Leviamon

Lower Form(s): Snow Agumon

Other: When Michael transforms, Frost’s triggers need less pressure - that is, he takes control quicker. This is more prevalent in the Ultimate and Mega stages. In fact, if Frost takes control of Michael as Surfymon, he automatically slide-evolves to Leviamon, and when Michael regains control, Leviamon transforms back to Surfymon.

~Deadly

[storymasterb]

Michael is Accepted.

That brings the tally to three Demon Lords, two characters and one reserve. Huh. Two of the three Celestials too, and a Royal Knight, and a Dark Master. Well, at least that ensures diversity, heh.

[Elysian]

It sure does. What am I? lol

[Deadly.Braviary]

Michael is Accepted.

Eh? It's not complete yet ...

~Deadly

[storymasterb]

Eh? It's not complete yet ...

~Deadly

Oops.

You can tell I haven't had enough sleep :O. Bleh. Fixing that.

[wayjun]

I’m afraid that most half of this is absolute gibberish. I actually finished this before 10/3/13 (my time, and 11:40 PM at that). So, if there are egregious errors in it, please be aware that this is nearly a WIP.
Name: Oleander (Alan) Medeiros
Age: 17
Gender: Male

Appearance: Delicate in appearance, Alan sometimes resembles a girl if he is not looked at very closely. He is slender, his muscles are not apparent unless he is straining, and any facial hair refuses to grow. He has fingers that have been called “girly” and “elegant”, but his finger nails are clipped to a practical, stubby length. The front of his hair, no matter what hair products he uses, refuses to cease covering his eyes, which are a brown so dark they appear black. His hair is nearly the same shade of brown as his eyes, but it seems to be a dull grey in some lights. His hair is normally cut so that there is a long section in the lower back and shoulder-length otherwise; both are straight. His arrangement of facial features (and nearly hairless body) has convinced some people that he is a cross-dressing girl, and his long eye-lashes and porcelain white skin help perpetrate that misconception. He also wears a pair of black wire-framed glasses that seem to be more for protecting his face than improving his eyesight (they're for reading).

Alan’s wardrobe consists of conservative and practical clothing. He does have a few articles of fancy clothing, but he only wears them on the occasions that they were intended for. His most worn outfit is composed of a dark grey pair of cargo pants with multitudes of pockets; a white, loose, shirt with sleeves that go to his elbows; a pair of black and white running shoes; and white, knee-length socks.

He seems to have sub-average endurance, and this carries over to his Digimon forms, but his sense of smell and hearing are above average, as if to compensate. If Alan’s current Digimon form has hair, then it has his length of hair, but not cut of hair. This excludes Gaiomon, because that already has a ponytail, and the ponytail is merely longer.

Personality: If Alan was commanded to do everything and he would not have a single choice to make, then he would be completely satisfied. Decisions, for him, are rather stressful and the stress increases with the magnitude of the decision, as normal, but any choice is difficult. Even if someone inquires as to what ice cream flavor he wants, he will merely say that he does not care. Forcing him to choose between gifts, or even offering him gifts at all, will result in him accepting anything with a polite “thank you”. He will remain silent if possible and not voice his opinion on a choice, even if he disagrees with it. He will always decline to speak if possible, for he does not want to go against anyone. He will never complain unless it is a matter of having something dislocated or worse. Leaving him to make his own decisions for important things for will result in him in a panicked state. Even if he does not verbally communicate his opinions, it does not mean that he has no opinions. He obeys without complaining, for he can remain alone for a greater period of time if he obediently follows. If someone asks something of him, and it is not unreasonable, then he will do it.

He is not shy, per se, but, rather, he is reserved and restrains himself from saying many of his thoughts to anyone. Preferring to remain alone, Alan is most likely to be seen reading or doing chores. If something compels him to talking, he will talk in a quiet monotone and never use figures of speech. He tries to prevent the prolonging of social interaction, unless it is with only one person at a time. He will not attempt to avert his eyes from the person he is talking to, and will not engage in any evasive actions if someone does manage to get him to talk. Even if he desired to communicate emotions, his face and tone of voice stay blank and level. He takes insults against his person with his normal silent indifference, but will not tolerate people intentionally harming him unless he believes they are justified in doing so.

Oleander is a learned person, but he prefers to keep his knowledge to himself rather than exposit it all over. He does, on the other hand, use it if it is necessary, for he can make his own decisions well; he merely loathes doing so. He absorbs information easily and can remember insignificant things from years ago. His common sense is rather uncommon as he tries to do things rationally, and, sometimes, common sense does not cover that. He is also rather attentive and notices details that people often gloss over or forget.

Nearly always, agreeing with the government’s stance of “eliminate the Digimon at all costs”, Alan follows their orders readily; although he does think that if Digimon followed human rules, then he would be okay with living alongside them. He does not mind being turned into a Bio-Hybrid, but he abhors hurting living beings, except when they are trying to hurt him. The most well-defined position he has of the government is that they, along with everyone else, do not say what they mean, and very rarely mean what they say.

History: Oleander was adopted by a family that was eccentric. They had three other children already, but they desired another, so they adopted Oleander. Because they had named their other children names of plants, and they had an “Ash”, they had to name Alan something…unconventional. His childhood was rather uneventful, would it have been sans his adoptive family. They encouraged their kids to outperform everyone in their entire school, and Alan was only too happy to oblige. He did not skip a grade because he was too indifferent to tell anyone that he was bored with the current school work and desired something more challenging.

Once the Digimon invasion commenced, Alan’s family realized the dangers of living in a city and thus moved. The reasonably sized town of San Rafael, California served their purposes fine. A few years of being pressured to preform to the best of his ability and his agreeable nature caused his personality to develop in a worrisome way. He became unable to voice his opinion with any degree of effect; this was because he did not wish to disappoint his parents and his decision not to skip a grade had caused discord within the family. High school was far more difficult for him than middle school for his self-confidence and desire to improve were severely damaged, so any projects where he had to choose a topic were a swamp of torments, but he excelled at tests and lab reports, so his grades were nearly perfect.

As the tests for the “disease” were announced, Oleander was brought in as was mandated. His blood was drawn, and his family was alerted that he was to be taken in for quarantine for they had discovered the mutation in his DNA. A while later, the government told his family that he had died of the rare disease. Alan was strangely indifferent in being a Bio-Hybrid, but he is secretly doubting whether the government was correct in doing what it did.

Digimon Form: Devidramon
Higher Form(s): Megadramon -> Black War Greymon, Gaiomon (Slide)
Lower Form(s): Agumon Black, Pagumon
Other: Asexual, but unsure of what gender he is romantic towards; he does not care.

[storymasterb]

Oleander is Accepted.

A note to everyone else, I'm probably going to get this RPG started tomorrow.

[Niihyl]

Hey, my SU is probably going to be a little late. I got waylaid by an idea for a second character halfway through, and wanted to get both up at the same time. Sorry for the trouble, but is it all right if I get an extension of two days or so?

Thanks!

[Blivsey]

I was about to post the same thing... then I actually got this thing done. May revise and expand the personality section a bit later - but not change any of the existing concepts, mind. But yes, is done, and just in time for the RP's opening.


Name: Elizabeth Bethany Rosenthal
Age: 21
Gender: Female

Appearance: Elizabeth is just on the tall side of an average height, a solid 170cm (5'7") tall when standing straight. Or, rather, she would if she ever did stand up straight - the thing is that she, quite frankly, can't. Due to the condition of her health, Rachel spends her days confined to a wheelchair - a simple black model with a rigid aluminum frame. As a direct result her eye level hardly breaks 133cm (4'5"), which coupled with the wavy curtain of subdued dishwater-blond hair hiding her neutral, oblong face and vacant slate blue eyes makes her easy to look over. Perfectly content with this, any makeup that Elizabeth applies to herself serves mainly to smooth out her complexion and hide her high nose-bridge and cheekbones rather than make herself stand out. She similarly only goes so far as mild volumizing and standard conditioning for her hair, keeping it at an attractive but unobtrusive shoulder blade length.

Due to her height deficiency causing her to constantly strain her neck upward, she has developed faint stretch marks along her neck. Her confinement has also thickened her palms in the act of steering herself around and decreased the overall rate of her physical activity, leaving her face and body to become slightly atrophied overall and skew her muscular development to favor her arms and all but abandon her legs. Elizabeth tends to hide this by wearing long, body-covering clothing such as jeans or slacks and sweaters, though the coastal environment she finds herself frequently adopting short-sleeved blouses that remain as flattering as possible to her athletic arms. Despite having long abandoned the need for such things long ago, she still has a tendency toward wearing sneakers and boots from being raised in rural Montana. Never one for excessive jewelry, Elizabeth wears next to none, at most putting stubs in her ears in formal circumstances.

Personality: Elizabeth has not been able to walk on her own in nearly two years, and the lifestyle change that this implies has wormed its way into other aspects of her life. Moving so little has slowed her metabolism considerably, resulting in a meager diet and a disproportionate amount of time spent sleeping. Even when fully rested, she still gives the appearance that she is only half-awake, reclined in her chair with her eyes locked half-shut by default. This state is usually not seen long, as she lights up and her ears perk when given some new stimulation - a fresh conversation, or a new book that she just found - and she is remarkably perceptive for someone so lethargic. The downside to this is that her aptitude lies almost exclusively in perception - Elizabeth is generally not the type for deep thought, largely preferring to take the most pragmatic solution in any given situation. While this does tend to help in working around her disability, it does have certain drawbacks such as the fact that she tends to oversimplify situations or liken them to fictional plots in order to deal with them simply. Drawing these parallels is likely a result of her turning to a steady input of books and movies in lieu of anything better to do in her tiny Montana town while stuck in a wheelchair, though her pool of reference is a bit restricted insofar as she has largely avoided new materials due to a combination of their rarity in such a rural area and wishing not to be left with permanently unresolved cliffhangers.

Active insistence on being self-sufficient and non-intrusive as possible does not directly translate to making Elizabeth a recluse - far from it, she finds it a very simple task to slip into pleasant conversation with even complete strangers. Starting these is simple enough, but she does have a distinct tendency to drop into a passive, prodding and listening role rather than talk to the other person at any length. This does make her a good enough listener, for sure, and she will happily sit and envision an old man's story while he talks her ears off at a bus stop, but she remains reserved when confronted about her own condition. To this day, she hardly makes better explanations than the vague "paralysis" or, even worse, "I have a health condition." In part, this is to avoid her own dwelling on her situation, another reason why she buries her eyeballs in TV monitors and books and anything new, ready to jump in on anything unfamiliar to her. That is not to say, of course, that she does not have her preferences - she has always been partial to sweet tea, spicy foods, and birds, with a keen eye for word puzzles, and her openness to literature still tends to revolve around short, self-contained YA novels. Elizabeth has learned to foster a deep-seated disdain for snow and stairs, two of the most common things to make her life unintentionally frustrating, as well as excessive noise. Being raised as part of a large family in a rural area has given her a sense of neighborly trust and an affinity toward anything involving wildlife or the outdoors (however ill-suited for it she may be).

Also, call her Liz. This "Elizabeth" stuff sounds too formal for her taste. And anything about her name shortening to "Beth Beth" has been done a thousand times - don't even think about it.

History: Liz was born at the corner of "no" and "where" in Benzine, Montana. It was there that she was raised and, until recently, expected to remain for the rest of her life. It was a peculiar little town, insofar as its population was only around 150 and around thirty of those were part of the Rosenthal family - she could hardly walk half a block growing up without meeting some great aunt or second cousin. With her mother and father being the resident history teacher and veterinarian respectively, Liz was an integrated part of the community from day one. That meant attending school with the rest, helping out on the local ranches like the rest, and generally behaving like everybody else in that backwater town. In a way, the town of Benzine tended to mold people into a jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none role from all the work undertaken as a community. By age eleven, with the local schools not having enough of a foothold for any real athletic teams, Liz in turn knew how to ride a horse, man the malt machine at the diner, and could tell you the fastest path up Mt. Sentinel. She hit a groove in her life early, and managed to ride it all the way through high school. Almost.

In her junior year of high school, when she was just turning seventeen years old, Liz noticed that she was starting to feel a stiffness in her legs. This she brushed off as temporary muscle cramps. But over several months, it continued to get harder for her to remain upright, to the point where she more than once fell from her horse while out riding. The instant her grandfather caught word of this, she was sent to a hospital in the next county over. She was subjected to tests over the course of several weeks. The results were fairly conclusive. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Not inviting words to look at, and not an inviting condition to have. Liz was in the early stages of a disease with too many unknowns for her taste - no known cause, no known rate of progression, and, worst of all, no known cure. As a near-adult, her circumstances were provided to her straight - the diagnosis has found the ALS to be affecting her legs, where her motor neurons would slowly weaken over the next couple of years. From there, the disease would affect her arms in the same way, and finally work inward to her torso and critical organs. The entire process usually took three and a half years.

Over the course of the next week, Liz was made subject to several medical tests. Despite the fact that only a close few relatives in Benzine were aware of her condition, as is the way of things in small towns, word had spread to nearly the entire town by the time that she returned. And in some way, everyone was treating her differently - her older relatives had all suddenly become uncomfortably coddling, while her classmates nearly unanimously began to keep their distance. And why shouldn't they? Only a few months left until everyone parted ways - why build a connection with someone who they would, quite frankly, never see again? Even her existing friends spoke with an edge of caution now. Knowing that, while well intended, her family's support couldn't achieve anything except making them more attached, Elizabeth began to gradually adopt a policy of minimal impact in order to soften the eventual loss she would force everyone through. She and her family abandoned any plans to send her to a university - a fruitless effort now - and she instead settled into a clerical job at her high school after graduation. In theory this would keep her mind occupied, in practice it would help to pay off the unsightly medical bills her family was beginning to acquire.

Liz buried herself successfully into books, films and games over most of the next four years. She managed to edge out over the average survival rate - the nurses attributed it to her youth, she attributed it to chance. Keeping her head down, she steadily put some distance between herself and the rest of the town, leaving as much of a small-but-positive footprint as possible. This proved impossible - a round of standardized health tests found yet another problem in her system. Some unknown bug. She was sent off to a more capable hospital on the western coast for treatment. She never returned to Montana from there. But, in a way, she had accomplished the act of disappearing from the world - the surgeons revived her under anonymity, the official story being that she had died from the still-unidentified virus. The actual story was much less straightforward. It involved a lot of jargon, but the gist that Liz could decipher was that the virus was benign, allowing the surgeons to suspend the progress of her ALS indefinitely. She was no longer dying, but stuck in limbo between paralysis and some product of a lab, a peculiar state in which she remains today.

Digimon Form: Frigimon
Higher Form(s): Pandamon, Monzaemon, WaruMonzaemon (slide from Monzaemon)
Lower Form(s): Poyomon

Other: STATUS OF LIZ'S CONDITION
Liz has not had the full use of her legs in roughly three years - at this stage, she can only force them to move with considerable effort, and even then she cannot manage more than ten centimeters at a time. Her arms are doing much better, though their stiff movements still leave much to be desired. Her hands have lost much of their dexterity, as well, as evidenced by her deteriorated penmanship and occasional difficulty using such things as keyboards and remote controllers. In spite of this, her health has not deteriorated to the point where she is unable to reliably move about in a manual wheelchair - rather, her physical therapy has treated her rather well, and it is only the odd task such as donning tight pants or eating Chinese food that eludes her.

Previously, it was estimated that Liz would survive another sixteen months before her arms would fail entirely and the sclerosis would begin to affect her organs, and another eight months beyond that until her organs would reach a fatal state. Since she was subject to Dr. Lloyd's surgeries, her disease has ceased its progression, leaving her in this state for the foreseeable future.

[storymasterb]

Niihyl: Yes, that's fine.

Blivsey: Elizabeth is Accepted.

[Niihyl]

Yeah, nix the second character, I suppose; one is plenty right now. Sorry for the lateness, too!

On another note, it's surprising but this seems to be the oldest current member of the group.

Name: Paxton Marquell
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Appearance: Though only 176 cm tall (around five-foot-nine for the Yanks in the audience) and only of average build, Paxton fills the room. With an unruly mop of bright-gold hair atop his head; broad, sweeping movements; and a vibrant swagger; he exudes vitality. His chipped canine tooth is nearly always visible, as he’s usually got a smile on his face, and he has cheerful blue eyes. A little soul patch right under his lip makes up the extent of his facial hair.

When given a choice as to what to wear, Paxton prefers to dress with class. Suit and tie may be dreadfully formalized nowadays, but there’s a certain style to Jazz Age couture, and it helps him stand out. Of course, such things tend to be impractical, so he usually contents himself with button-down shirts and jeans. Nice jeans, though, not ratty old ones, coupled with a pair of leather loafers. His earlobes are pierced with small silver rings, and he usually bears a heavy, silvery metal watch on his left wrist.

His digimon forms are no different than normal, except for the fact that Astamon is blonde-haired, like the others.

Personality: Hedonism is Paxton’s game, and he plays it well. With a sly grin permanently affixed to his face, he goes through life looking for the next distraction: a pretty lover to bed, an exotic locale to explore or a glass of fine spirits to savor. His personality is grandiose and exultant – him being a showman by trade – prone to blustering boast, tall tales and exaggerated narcissism. He is cocksure to the extreme, there’s not much that can faze him.

Of course, a touch of apathy helps with that sort of thing. Paxton would gladly fiddle as the world burned, preferring relaxation over saving random lives. He doesn’t really owe them anything, does he? Living out the rest of his days as the government’s pet b***h isn’t an altogether pleasing idea either. If he sees a chance to walk, he’ll take it without a second thought. Still, he doesn’t dwell on the negatives of his situation. Without any way out, he figures that he may as well enjoy the role, killing dragons and scoring a couple of hot, grateful princesses, etc. until another option presents itself.

Paxton has a big mouth. Self-styled “Paxton the Bard” – and occasionally “Paxton the Bastard” – he’ll always be telling a tale, singing or playing a song, or antagonizing someone he really shouldn’t. As an utterly irreverent smartass, he tends to rub people the wrong way, though after a while, most people realize that he doesn’t mean any harm, being a bit of a dick is just his standard state of being. He has no time for the grim or pessimistic, and will personally compensate for others’ negativity with unbridled enthusiasm and pep. His life philosophy can easily be summed up in a single line of advice: “the best way to cure a hangover is to keep drinking!” and if one was to add a second, “you probably won’t live long enough to have to worry about liver failure anyway!”

One would be surprised to note that Paxton is actually a bit of an intellectual. He doesn’t trumpet it like he does everything else, but he has a deep interest in the sciences. He always did fairly well in school – except anything involving old dead people or excessive physical activity – and had planned to go to college for a degree in medicine. Though he is still intrigued by technical innovation, he long ago abandoned his long-term dreams, and chooses to live fully in the present, though he bears a soft spot for the ill and infirm. He counsels those around him to seize their dreams, and their short-term desires. Life is too short to dither about waiting for destiny.

History: Paxton was born and raised in Maidstone, Kent. His father, Jean Marquell, was a musician – he taught Paxton how to play the trumpet, instilling in him a love for music. However, careers in music hardly paid well, which proved troubling due to his ailing mother Miriam, who required intensive medical care. When her condition took a turn for the worse, Paxton’s dad – who had always been a bit of a flake – couldn’t handle the pressure; he bailed out when Paxton was six.

So, Paxton was moved to foster care, and his mother turned over to the charity of whatever nonprofit facilities and state aid would help. He visited her often, running down sterile hospital hallways with grubby report cards clutched in his hands, filled with promises to grow up and fix her. He had his whole future planned out. He would study hard, get into a good college, and become a doctor. And he would be the world’s best musician, because why should he settle with one dream? Oh, and a third thing, he would find his dad and smack him upside the head, that complete bastard.

As it goes, Paxton grew up. He picked up the guitar along the way – ladies love guitars – and continued to do well in school, despite a disastrous attempt to play football. A couple months on crutches aside, life was just swell. Then, when senior year came along, everything went to hell. The digimon began to attack, and humanity began to fight its losing war with the creatures. Paxton’s mother died in one assault, as an attack in downtown London damaged the hospital facilities. Paxton cut his ambitions short. He saw people dying, and watched the military fight back. But the situation didn’t improve; it worsened as time went on. Paxton decided to leave. Staying and dwelling on the situation would kill him, he needed to get away. He hitchhiked across the country, stowing away on a ship to get off the isles. Waves of refugees seeking safer harbor abroad had led to relaxation of many immigration laws. He even found places that were relatively untouched, especially in rural areas. He never did settle down, however; he was far too willful to try and eke out a life in some backwater countryside.

Four years of this, and Paxton found himself in New York, U.S. of A. The metropolitan area was a war zone, but the suburbs were fairly quiet. And thanks to fate, that capricious b***h, who else would have ended up in that same city, but Jean Marquell, performing in a local bar? He had the same hair and eyes that Paxton did, standing there against the bar with some other woman on his arm. At once, Paxton was furious. How dare he? How dare he be here having fun while mom was dead?

Paxton greeted his father for the first time in sixteen years. Jean was disbelieving at first, but was soon convinced. He gasped in mock horror upon hearing that his son had begun playing the damned guitar, and he greeted his son warmly, asking how mom was. Upon learning of her death, he offered his condolences, but Paxton could tell he didn’t really care. He asked his father to come over to his flat – “one last duet, dad.” the two returned to the building Paxton had been squatting in. As they arrived, Paxton stabbed his father in the back, again and again. All the stress of the world, all the pain, all the old anger, set boiling by one too many drinks and Paxton became a murderer. It was scary how easy it was.

Paxton claimed his father’s prized trumpet. With his inheritance complete, he left. No one would look for him. There would be no manhunt. There was too much trouble, especially that near New York City. No one would notice another dead man. Paxton himself drank, partied and performed his way across the continental United States. No more unfinished business, no more worries, he lived life for life’s sake, without giving a damn about other people. Like father, like son.

He got caught up by some officials in California. Apparently there was some virus going around. When they found a particular little strand of DNA in his genome, they took him in and turned him into werewolf Superman. On the downside, they kept him locked up on the facilities and punished any attempts to escape. So, damn.

Digimon Form: Petermon
Higher Forms: Astamon > Baalmon
Lower Forms: Puttimon > Cupimon > Tinkermon

[storymasterb]

Niihyl: Paxton is Accepted