Post by Jeremy Aatxe on Nov 15, 2016 5:20:50 GMT -6
 | PLAYED BY TULIP MAMA EIGHTEEN (18) APRIL (04) | MALE VYTAL FRESHMAN BULL FAUNUS |
| JEREMY EBON AATXE | ||
★ APPEARANCE
When one thinks of a bull faunus, the mind conjures an image of a hulking creature mighty in stature and grand in bulk, but Jeremy fits neither of these ideals. Indeed, even for a human of his age he could be considered rather small in almost all respects. He stands at an unimpressive 5’ with narrow shoulders and a lean frame. He could easily be described as scrawny, but his time at Vytal has packed what muscle it could into his scant body, making him a very well defined runt, skin pulled tight over every muscle and sinew. His skin is slightly darker than most, seemingly tanned all year long, which serves to contrast the numerous pale scars that decorate his body. Great tracks of ruined skin, poorly healed and many years old dance across his body, some looking as if a great beast raked him, others as if some malevolent torturer held a red hot brand to his skin until it cooled. Most of these scars appear below the neck and can be hidden by clothes, though there are a pair of great gouges under his eyes that almost give him the appearance of perpetually crying. He wears his straight black hair at shoulder length to try and mask his face so that at a glance, few enough notice the scars. His hair is rather conveniently kept out of his vibrant green eyes by a small pair of horns that protrude from his forehead, and though only a few inches long, part his hair very nicely. As far as clothing goes, Jeremy likes to dress sharply for his casual clothes, preferring a button up shirt, tie, vest and slacks with well-polished shoes. The colours generally lean toward earthy tones, browns and auburns, though he’ll enjoy a splash of dark green trim in his wardrobe as well. When facing combat however, he dresses much less conservatively, opting for just a pair of rough, durable black pants, and nothing else. He fights without a shirt so that he has easy access to the tattoos that he uses as his main weapons (he found out rather quickly that his dust tattoos would burn or shred his clothes on use). For this reason, among many, he prefers to refrain from combat when possible.
★ PERSONALITY
★ HISTORY
Jeremy’s story begins like so many others, with his parents. His mother was a very sweet doe faunus named Lavender, born and raised on the outskirts of Legion where she tilled fields and harvested food for the kingdom in a small rural village. At the time, the village was well outside of the main city and therefore under constant threat of attack from the creatures of Grim, guarded by a few able body farmers with just enough training to ward of the weakest of attacks. Hunters that ventured through the village, while uncommon, where revered for the peace of mind they gave the village even if a Grim attack didn’t occur during their stay. Jeremy’s father was one such hunter, a large and powerful Bull faunus named Rojo, grand horns that curved to a point made the already monolithic man seem even taller. He regularly patrolled the outskirts of Legion, making his way through the dozen or so villiages that helped feed the kingdom, fending off Grim where he could. He and his team mates stomped out a wave of Barghest that would have torn the village to shreds on one such patrol, and for their efforts they were treated to a hero’s welcome. Lavender was awestruck by the nearly seven foot tall hunter, and on that night they shared quite a bit of time together, mostly away from prying eyes. He left in the morning with his team mates to continue their patrol around Legion, Lavender starring dreamy eyed after him as he marched into the forest. It came to be that every few months, his band of hunters made their way to Lavender’s village, and the two of them would meet and enjoy each other’s company. After almost a year of such a relationship, Lavender was with child and Rojo initially seemed pleased with the news. He promised that he would request to be stationed at the village so he could raise the child with Lavender, that they could be married. She didn’t see him again after that for almost a full year, during which time she gave birth and prayed each night that Rojo hadn’t met an untimely end in the unkind forests. He returned with news that Legion had pushed far enough into the wilderness over that past year that it was worth having a hunter stationed at her village on a slightly more permanent basis. Lavender was elated, so happy that she had such a strong man to be her husband, and such a beautiful boy to be her son. Life was looking very, very good to the young mother. Unfortunately, such things were never meant to last. When Rojo was first introduced to his son, a slight thing almost sickly looking in his size, it was all the Bull faunus could do to hide his displeasure. It was almost an insult to have such a small creature share his blood. Lavender had named the child Rojo Jeremiah Gore, taking her husbands’ first and last name, and the name of her own father. Rojo seemed even more disgruntled by this news and insisted on calling the child Jeremiah, not wanting his name associated with what he considered a failure of his gene pool.
Life from that point on was not quite as Lavender had expected. It turns out she didn’t get to experience Rojo’s temper or his point of views on strength and superiority in the nights they shared together before he married her. When she displeased him, he was quick to raise his hand, great bellows could be heard from their farm house almost nightly. It soon became welcome news that he would be gone for days or even weeks to delve into the forest with other hunters to track down packs of Grim. It was this time that she had respite from his hand and time to raise her son, who she too had taken to calling Jeremiah because calling him Rojo angered her husband so much. Even so, when Rojo would return, he would be high on the thrill of the hunt, fresh coin in his pocket and eager to be rid of it at the local watering hole, coming home wreaking of alcohol and lumbering in great weaving steps. Soon the money would dry up and he would be back to lamenting his scrawny offspring and blaming his wife for the lack of decent food in the house. For his part, Jeremiah learned early on to avoid his father whenever possible, constantly dodging empty bottles thrown at him for daring to make too much noise or just because the sight of him roused his fathers’ temper. By the time he was six, he had learned how to keep his fathers’ attention enough to spare his mother from his ire, but also to dodge many of the drunken swings that the massive man hurled his way. It didn’t always work, even a drunk hunter is more than a match for even the wiliest of six year olds, and for Jeremiah wore many scars and bruises. Rojo always said he was ‘building character’ with these attacks, which Lavender always hastily agreed to in hopes of tempering her husbands’ anger. Even still, when Rojo left on missions, she would try and teach her son to be kind hearted, that his father had a difficult job and not to hate him if he could. She taught him how to play the piano to entertain his father, music seemingly the only thing that could sooth his anger. Even this could be torture though as Jeremiah was forced to play until his fingers bled and his bones ached. By the time he was ten, Jeremiah had managed to manifest an aura, likely spurred by his desire to defend his mother without breaking a rib every other night. Unfortunately, this only made his father hit him harder or become more ‘inventive’ on how to instill further ‘character’ into his whelp of a son.
On one evening when Jeremiah was twelve, he and his mother bid Rojo farewell as he departed on a hunting mission that promised to keep him busy for weeks. When they could no longer see his massive body rustling the trees as he marched into the forest, Lavender turned to Jeremiah and told him they were leaving. She couldn’t watch her son be beaten again, there was no way to justify it, and she felt like a monster herself for allowing it to go on so long. She said she had a friend in Vytal, a neighbour that had moved years ago before Rojo had been a fixture in her life. It was a friend who was willing to take them in, and they mustn’t take anything with them aside from what they needed to make the trip. With that said, she hurried into the kitchen, packed a small bag no larger than a purse and made her way out of town. She smiled to her neighbours, told everybody they passed that she was headed to the city to get her husband a gift and would return in a few days. She didn’t want anybody to know where they were going in case Rojo questioned them.
It was a hard journey to Vytal, but they made it within a week where her friend welcomed them into her home. Apparently Lavender had been planning their escape for nearly two years, squirreling away any loose money that Rojo dropped, staying in contact with her friend, getting fake papers and ID’s for the two of them. Jeremiah was renamed Jeremy Ebon Aatex, Lavender going by Shea Aatex, their new lives started out of the spare room of a kitchen hand in Vytal academy. Jeremy treated his new life with caution and curiosity. He felt almost odd not coming home to a beating, or having to dodge discarded bottles, and he thoroughly enjoyed this life. Whatever the benefits though, they brought with them a different sort of fear, the fear that his father would come and steal all of this away, punish his mother, and his former life would start over again. It was a strange sort of fear, one that made him sleep uneasily, worried to walk carelessly around corners, his every step uneasy. It was his mother's friend who originally suggested that Jeremy enroll, learn to be strong, learn his semblance, maybe someday he could even beat his father and they could go back home to their village. His mother did not enjoy the thought, her son becoming a hunter like his father? It was a distasteful idea, but Jeremy clung to the hope of this idea, the hope that the fear he felt along his spine could someday be laid to rest. After many very lengthy conversations, Jeremy was allowed to enroll.
His time in the academy was marked with very few outstanding moments, he performed well enough to succeed, but always made sure he was as average as possible. Some classes, using his aura, for instance, came surprising naturally and he could have excelled, but chose to go unnoticed. Some classes he had the opposite problem, such as his weapons classes, having to work doubly hard to make it to the middle rungs of the class. It was in his third year that he had done what many are so excited to do, he realized his semblance. It wasn't uncommon for classes to pit students against each other in spars, and pushing your aura to the brink, putting your instincts on edge and making your mind think your life was on the line was generally considered one of the better ways of unlocking stubbourn semblances. It was in one such class that Jeremy first activated his, though he didn't find out what happened until later. One of his class mates was barring down on him with an axe held high, Jeremy's aura was by no means depleted, but it was strained. He felt a surge of fear and adrenaline before everything went dark. When he next awoke on the floor of the class, he assumed the blow had knocked him unconscious, but upon getting to his feet, he saw that wasn't likely the case. The class was in ruins, desks upturned, unconscious students littered the room, great gouges rent from the floors and walls. He looked up at his teacher, who had his own weapon drawn, trained on Jeremy, a cold stare as if surveying a threat. When he had learned what happened, he worked tirelessly with his teacher and the school staff on a means of sealing his semblance, finally settling on an intricate dust tattoo. His education started including primers and one on one training in the use of dust tattoos so that he could properly control the one that kept his semblance in check.
Now on the onset of his fifth year, he grows all the more worried, his semblance a threat to anybody he would care to get close to, and whats worse, being forced to pair with a partner after so carefully avoiding others and their attentions. Still, he looks forward to learning more about the way hunters worked, and the thought of gaining allies that may help him, while a foreign concept, was a welcome one.
When one thinks of a bull faunus, the mind conjures an image of a hulking creature mighty in stature and grand in bulk, but Jeremy fits neither of these ideals. Indeed, even for a human of his age he could be considered rather small in almost all respects. He stands at an unimpressive 5’ with narrow shoulders and a lean frame. He could easily be described as scrawny, but his time at Vytal has packed what muscle it could into his scant body, making him a very well defined runt, skin pulled tight over every muscle and sinew. His skin is slightly darker than most, seemingly tanned all year long, which serves to contrast the numerous pale scars that decorate his body. Great tracks of ruined skin, poorly healed and many years old dance across his body, some looking as if a great beast raked him, others as if some malevolent torturer held a red hot brand to his skin until it cooled. Most of these scars appear below the neck and can be hidden by clothes, though there are a pair of great gouges under his eyes that almost give him the appearance of perpetually crying. He wears his straight black hair at shoulder length to try and mask his face so that at a glance, few enough notice the scars. His hair is rather conveniently kept out of his vibrant green eyes by a small pair of horns that protrude from his forehead, and though only a few inches long, part his hair very nicely. As far as clothing goes, Jeremy likes to dress sharply for his casual clothes, preferring a button up shirt, tie, vest and slacks with well-polished shoes. The colours generally lean toward earthy tones, browns and auburns, though he’ll enjoy a splash of dark green trim in his wardrobe as well. When facing combat however, he dresses much less conservatively, opting for just a pair of rough, durable black pants, and nothing else. He fights without a shirt so that he has easy access to the tattoos that he uses as his main weapons (he found out rather quickly that his dust tattoos would burn or shred his clothes on use). For this reason, among many, he prefers to refrain from combat when possible.
★ PERSONALITY
POSITIVE - KIND - NON-CONFRONTATIONAL - SMART - EAGER TO HELP - DUTIFUL | NEGATIVE - PASSIVE TO A FAULT - TIMID - WITHDRAWN - LONELY - DISTRUSTFUL |
★ HISTORY
Jeremy’s story begins like so many others, with his parents. His mother was a very sweet doe faunus named Lavender, born and raised on the outskirts of Legion where she tilled fields and harvested food for the kingdom in a small rural village. At the time, the village was well outside of the main city and therefore under constant threat of attack from the creatures of Grim, guarded by a few able body farmers with just enough training to ward of the weakest of attacks. Hunters that ventured through the village, while uncommon, where revered for the peace of mind they gave the village even if a Grim attack didn’t occur during their stay. Jeremy’s father was one such hunter, a large and powerful Bull faunus named Rojo, grand horns that curved to a point made the already monolithic man seem even taller. He regularly patrolled the outskirts of Legion, making his way through the dozen or so villiages that helped feed the kingdom, fending off Grim where he could. He and his team mates stomped out a wave of Barghest that would have torn the village to shreds on one such patrol, and for their efforts they were treated to a hero’s welcome. Lavender was awestruck by the nearly seven foot tall hunter, and on that night they shared quite a bit of time together, mostly away from prying eyes. He left in the morning with his team mates to continue their patrol around Legion, Lavender starring dreamy eyed after him as he marched into the forest. It came to be that every few months, his band of hunters made their way to Lavender’s village, and the two of them would meet and enjoy each other’s company. After almost a year of such a relationship, Lavender was with child and Rojo initially seemed pleased with the news. He promised that he would request to be stationed at the village so he could raise the child with Lavender, that they could be married. She didn’t see him again after that for almost a full year, during which time she gave birth and prayed each night that Rojo hadn’t met an untimely end in the unkind forests. He returned with news that Legion had pushed far enough into the wilderness over that past year that it was worth having a hunter stationed at her village on a slightly more permanent basis. Lavender was elated, so happy that she had such a strong man to be her husband, and such a beautiful boy to be her son. Life was looking very, very good to the young mother. Unfortunately, such things were never meant to last. When Rojo was first introduced to his son, a slight thing almost sickly looking in his size, it was all the Bull faunus could do to hide his displeasure. It was almost an insult to have such a small creature share his blood. Lavender had named the child Rojo Jeremiah Gore, taking her husbands’ first and last name, and the name of her own father. Rojo seemed even more disgruntled by this news and insisted on calling the child Jeremiah, not wanting his name associated with what he considered a failure of his gene pool.
Life from that point on was not quite as Lavender had expected. It turns out she didn’t get to experience Rojo’s temper or his point of views on strength and superiority in the nights they shared together before he married her. When she displeased him, he was quick to raise his hand, great bellows could be heard from their farm house almost nightly. It soon became welcome news that he would be gone for days or even weeks to delve into the forest with other hunters to track down packs of Grim. It was this time that she had respite from his hand and time to raise her son, who she too had taken to calling Jeremiah because calling him Rojo angered her husband so much. Even so, when Rojo would return, he would be high on the thrill of the hunt, fresh coin in his pocket and eager to be rid of it at the local watering hole, coming home wreaking of alcohol and lumbering in great weaving steps. Soon the money would dry up and he would be back to lamenting his scrawny offspring and blaming his wife for the lack of decent food in the house. For his part, Jeremiah learned early on to avoid his father whenever possible, constantly dodging empty bottles thrown at him for daring to make too much noise or just because the sight of him roused his fathers’ temper. By the time he was six, he had learned how to keep his fathers’ attention enough to spare his mother from his ire, but also to dodge many of the drunken swings that the massive man hurled his way. It didn’t always work, even a drunk hunter is more than a match for even the wiliest of six year olds, and for Jeremiah wore many scars and bruises. Rojo always said he was ‘building character’ with these attacks, which Lavender always hastily agreed to in hopes of tempering her husbands’ anger. Even still, when Rojo left on missions, she would try and teach her son to be kind hearted, that his father had a difficult job and not to hate him if he could. She taught him how to play the piano to entertain his father, music seemingly the only thing that could sooth his anger. Even this could be torture though as Jeremiah was forced to play until his fingers bled and his bones ached. By the time he was ten, Jeremiah had managed to manifest an aura, likely spurred by his desire to defend his mother without breaking a rib every other night. Unfortunately, this only made his father hit him harder or become more ‘inventive’ on how to instill further ‘character’ into his whelp of a son.
On one evening when Jeremiah was twelve, he and his mother bid Rojo farewell as he departed on a hunting mission that promised to keep him busy for weeks. When they could no longer see his massive body rustling the trees as he marched into the forest, Lavender turned to Jeremiah and told him they were leaving. She couldn’t watch her son be beaten again, there was no way to justify it, and she felt like a monster herself for allowing it to go on so long. She said she had a friend in Vytal, a neighbour that had moved years ago before Rojo had been a fixture in her life. It was a friend who was willing to take them in, and they mustn’t take anything with them aside from what they needed to make the trip. With that said, she hurried into the kitchen, packed a small bag no larger than a purse and made her way out of town. She smiled to her neighbours, told everybody they passed that she was headed to the city to get her husband a gift and would return in a few days. She didn’t want anybody to know where they were going in case Rojo questioned them.
It was a hard journey to Vytal, but they made it within a week where her friend welcomed them into her home. Apparently Lavender had been planning their escape for nearly two years, squirreling away any loose money that Rojo dropped, staying in contact with her friend, getting fake papers and ID’s for the two of them. Jeremiah was renamed Jeremy Ebon Aatex, Lavender going by Shea Aatex, their new lives started out of the spare room of a kitchen hand in Vytal academy. Jeremy treated his new life with caution and curiosity. He felt almost odd not coming home to a beating, or having to dodge discarded bottles, and he thoroughly enjoyed this life. Whatever the benefits though, they brought with them a different sort of fear, the fear that his father would come and steal all of this away, punish his mother, and his former life would start over again. It was a strange sort of fear, one that made him sleep uneasily, worried to walk carelessly around corners, his every step uneasy. It was his mother's friend who originally suggested that Jeremy enroll, learn to be strong, learn his semblance, maybe someday he could even beat his father and they could go back home to their village. His mother did not enjoy the thought, her son becoming a hunter like his father? It was a distasteful idea, but Jeremy clung to the hope of this idea, the hope that the fear he felt along his spine could someday be laid to rest. After many very lengthy conversations, Jeremy was allowed to enroll.
His time in the academy was marked with very few outstanding moments, he performed well enough to succeed, but always made sure he was as average as possible. Some classes, using his aura, for instance, came surprising naturally and he could have excelled, but chose to go unnoticed. Some classes he had the opposite problem, such as his weapons classes, having to work doubly hard to make it to the middle rungs of the class. It was in his third year that he had done what many are so excited to do, he realized his semblance. It wasn't uncommon for classes to pit students against each other in spars, and pushing your aura to the brink, putting your instincts on edge and making your mind think your life was on the line was generally considered one of the better ways of unlocking stubbourn semblances. It was in one such class that Jeremy first activated his, though he didn't find out what happened until later. One of his class mates was barring down on him with an axe held high, Jeremy's aura was by no means depleted, but it was strained. He felt a surge of fear and adrenaline before everything went dark. When he next awoke on the floor of the class, he assumed the blow had knocked him unconscious, but upon getting to his feet, he saw that wasn't likely the case. The class was in ruins, desks upturned, unconscious students littered the room, great gouges rent from the floors and walls. He looked up at his teacher, who had his own weapon drawn, trained on Jeremy, a cold stare as if surveying a threat. When he had learned what happened, he worked tirelessly with his teacher and the school staff on a means of sealing his semblance, finally settling on an intricate dust tattoo. His education started including primers and one on one training in the use of dust tattoos so that he could properly control the one that kept his semblance in check.
Now on the onset of his fifth year, he grows all the more worried, his semblance a threat to anybody he would care to get close to, and whats worse, being forced to pair with a partner after so carefully avoiding others and their attentions. Still, he looks forward to learning more about the way hunters worked, and the thought of gaining allies that may help him, while a foreign concept, was a welcome one.
★ COMBAT NOTES
WEAPONS
Jeremy's weapons of choice are a pair of pistols he calls the Estoques, and look like fairly standard 45 calibre pistols. They are gun metal black with silver highlights, nicks and divots taken out of the body of the guns as if used to block many a sword strike. The handle of the gun has a knuckle duster like hand guard that wraps around each finger of Jeremy's hand, and if one looks closely, there is a small inlay to each knuckle on the hand guard that internally feeds back to the mag. With these inlays, Jeremy can channel the dust in his magazine to his knuckles to enhance his punches. Also, the barrel of the gun pivots around on the top of the handle, just over the trigger guard so that the hammer of the pistol is in line with the knuckles of the hand guard. In this configuration, the Estoques make very handsome knuckle dusters that, on impact, fire his gun and give his punches a little extra propulsion to make up for his lack of physical strength. He can similarly fire the Estoques when the barrel is turned around to propel his fist before impact.
MISC.
Jeremy has a pair of twin holsters and belt, on the back of which he has four magazines to reload the Estoques. Also, he is a Dust Tattoo practitioner, having a half dozen tattoos on his torso, usually strategically placed over his scars to help cover them up. Normally, he has two tattoos of Earth dust, two of glass dust, and one tattoo each of fire, and gravity dust. There is a tattoo on his back that has every type of dust that is legally allowed on a person, but he never uses it.
When going on long missions or field trips, he'll carry a supply of dust inks and a manual tattooing needle to touch up his body art as needed. On day to day classes and sparring, he has an electric tattooing needle and a fairly large supply of dust inks in his dorm room. When his back tattoo needs upkeep however, he needs to go to the school nurse for touch ups.
Tattoo Uses: Each tattoo allows him to manipulate or produce the element in question 5 times per tattoo at a cost of 4 AP per usage.
Jeremy's aura is a cool black with flickers of red that dance around him like a dying candle. The feelings his aura exudes are those of loneliness, fear and anxiety, which is why he tries not to be too close to people when using his aura to its' fullest. He has learned the use of his aura in mending, hoping he can someday put battle behind him and dedicate his life to repairing the wounds his father has wrought.
IGNOBLE SHROUD
The first thing to know about Jeremy's Semblance is that he actively hates it, and tries his best to avoid using it, up to and including having a dust tattoo that locks it down so it doesn't come into effect accidentally. When triggered, the Ignoble Shroud projects Jeremys' aura around his body to create an armour similar in appearance to a minotaur, a massive, hulking beast with long wickedly curved horns and talons. It looks like it has a similar visual scheme to a creature of Grim, baring a grotesque red and white mask worn over void black skin. The Ignoble Shroud stands a solid 10 feet tall, and Jeremy floats unconscious in it's chest cavity when active. The shroud is indiscriminate and powerful, attacking anything that could be perceived, even loosely, as a threat with strength that can uproot trees and rake gouges from solid rock. The shroud is similarly difficult to pierce, all but the strongest of sword strikes and powerful of dust powers able to give it pause. This semblance is Jeremy's greatest shame, knowing that at his core, the very image of his soul, there is nothing but a wounded animal lashing out and his own selfish desire to be safe and protected.
He has been working with his teachers to control the Ignoble Shroud, though reluctantly. He has been coaxed into trying to activate it only partially, coat only his arm or torso in the inky blackness, able to take advantage of some fraction of the shrouds full strength. When doing this, the shroud is translucent, not fully real though it does offer a greater form of protection than his standard aura, and bolsters the strength of the limb is covers. It also passively activates the tattoo on his back as a sort of regulator, and there in lies the danger of it's use. Relying too heavily on the Ignoble Shroud depletes the tattoo he uses to keep it in check, and should the tattoo be too heavily deteriorated, his shroud will envelope him. He can feel it every time he tries to use his semblance, as if teetering on the edge of a knife, that one slip up and he falls again into the nightmare. A strong surge of emotion can similarly push him over the edge, overriding the careful control he exerts on his semblance. Still, he strives to control it fully, hopeful one day that he may be able to keep the monster at bay without his tattoo at all.
Aura Use:
Partial activation
Cost: 15 AP
Duration: 2 Minutes
Other: Every time he uses a partial activation, he has to roll a 6 sided die. The Ignoble Shroud will fully activate accidentally if the conditions of the roll corresponds with the below table. This is to represent the weakening of the back tattoo that seals his semblance.
Full Activation:
Cost: Whatever he has left. The Ignoble Shroud fully uses his aura up.
Duration: Depends on AP Reserves when activated, rounded up to the nearest 25
WEAPONS
Jeremy's weapons of choice are a pair of pistols he calls the Estoques, and look like fairly standard 45 calibre pistols. They are gun metal black with silver highlights, nicks and divots taken out of the body of the guns as if used to block many a sword strike. The handle of the gun has a knuckle duster like hand guard that wraps around each finger of Jeremy's hand, and if one looks closely, there is a small inlay to each knuckle on the hand guard that internally feeds back to the mag. With these inlays, Jeremy can channel the dust in his magazine to his knuckles to enhance his punches. Also, the barrel of the gun pivots around on the top of the handle, just over the trigger guard so that the hammer of the pistol is in line with the knuckles of the hand guard. In this configuration, the Estoques make very handsome knuckle dusters that, on impact, fire his gun and give his punches a little extra propulsion to make up for his lack of physical strength. He can similarly fire the Estoques when the barrel is turned around to propel his fist before impact.
MISC.
Jeremy has a pair of twin holsters and belt, on the back of which he has four magazines to reload the Estoques. Also, he is a Dust Tattoo practitioner, having a half dozen tattoos on his torso, usually strategically placed over his scars to help cover them up. Normally, he has two tattoos of Earth dust, two of glass dust, and one tattoo each of fire, and gravity dust. There is a tattoo on his back that has every type of dust that is legally allowed on a person, but he never uses it.
When going on long missions or field trips, he'll carry a supply of dust inks and a manual tattooing needle to touch up his body art as needed. On day to day classes and sparring, he has an electric tattooing needle and a fairly large supply of dust inks in his dorm room. When his back tattoo needs upkeep however, he needs to go to the school nurse for touch ups.
Tattoo Uses: Each tattoo allows him to manipulate or produce the element in question 5 times per tattoo at a cost of 4 AP per usage.
AURA
Jeremy's aura is a cool black with flickers of red that dance around him like a dying candle. The feelings his aura exudes are those of loneliness, fear and anxiety, which is why he tries not to be too close to people when using his aura to its' fullest. He has learned the use of his aura in mending, hoping he can someday put battle behind him and dedicate his life to repairing the wounds his father has wrought.
SEMBLANCE
IGNOBLE SHROUD
The first thing to know about Jeremy's Semblance is that he actively hates it, and tries his best to avoid using it, up to and including having a dust tattoo that locks it down so it doesn't come into effect accidentally. When triggered, the Ignoble Shroud projects Jeremys' aura around his body to create an armour similar in appearance to a minotaur, a massive, hulking beast with long wickedly curved horns and talons. It looks like it has a similar visual scheme to a creature of Grim, baring a grotesque red and white mask worn over void black skin. The Ignoble Shroud stands a solid 10 feet tall, and Jeremy floats unconscious in it's chest cavity when active. The shroud is indiscriminate and powerful, attacking anything that could be perceived, even loosely, as a threat with strength that can uproot trees and rake gouges from solid rock. The shroud is similarly difficult to pierce, all but the strongest of sword strikes and powerful of dust powers able to give it pause. This semblance is Jeremy's greatest shame, knowing that at his core, the very image of his soul, there is nothing but a wounded animal lashing out and his own selfish desire to be safe and protected.
He has been working with his teachers to control the Ignoble Shroud, though reluctantly. He has been coaxed into trying to activate it only partially, coat only his arm or torso in the inky blackness, able to take advantage of some fraction of the shrouds full strength. When doing this, the shroud is translucent, not fully real though it does offer a greater form of protection than his standard aura, and bolsters the strength of the limb is covers. It also passively activates the tattoo on his back as a sort of regulator, and there in lies the danger of it's use. Relying too heavily on the Ignoble Shroud depletes the tattoo he uses to keep it in check, and should the tattoo be too heavily deteriorated, his shroud will envelope him. He can feel it every time he tries to use his semblance, as if teetering on the edge of a knife, that one slip up and he falls again into the nightmare. A strong surge of emotion can similarly push him over the edge, overriding the careful control he exerts on his semblance. Still, he strives to control it fully, hopeful one day that he may be able to keep the monster at bay without his tattoo at all.
Aura Use:
Partial activation
Cost: 15 AP
Duration: 2 Minutes
Other: Every time he uses a partial activation, he has to roll a 6 sided die. The Ignoble Shroud will fully activate accidentally if the conditions of the roll corresponds with the below table. This is to represent the weakening of the back tattoo that seals his semblance.
| TIMES ACTIVATED | SHROUD ACTIVATES |
| 1 | N/A |
| 2 | 6 |
| 3 | 5+ |
| 4 | 4+ |
| 5 | 3+ |
| 6 | 2+ |
Full Activation:
Cost: Whatever he has left. The Ignoble Shroud fully uses his aura up.
Duration: Depends on AP Reserves when activated, rounded up to the nearest 25
| AP REMAINING | DURATION |
| 100 | 4 minutes |
| 75 | 3 minutes |
| 50 | 2 minutes |
| 25 | 1 minutes |
AURA POINTS: 100
FACECLAIM SERIES, faceclaim name as character name PLAYED BY TULIP MAMA
coded by electric of gangnam style
