Twilight of the Gods: A Metahuman RP (OOC)

[Europa Undivided]

Name: Lavrentiy Fyodorovich Karamazov
Alias: The Collector; the Phoenix Lord
Alignment: Officially, Dynastic. In truth, loyal only to himself and his own House.
Age: 35
Appearance: Picture
Additional physical features: Lavrentiy is 5'11" tall, and has a rather average physique. He does not seem to exude any kind of intimidating aura as most metas would, though that damn smile can be a little eerie, especially if you had killed him more than once.
Personality: Eccentric and utterly incomprehensible, Lavrentiy is often seen as an insidious presence, with valuable things sometimes vanishing whenever he is around. Otherwise, he does not seem to be malicious to either other metas or his mundane constituents. In fact, the people under his House would say that he rules with a fair hand, if he could be called the ruler to begin with. Much of the actual administration of his realm falls to his younger brother Bogdan, who is more or less just as lenient as he is.

The most well known facet of the Collector is… well, his collection. Many rumors abound on how he has the very first telephone in his vaults, as well as many other priceless artifacts of Earth's history. It is said that Lord Karamazov has a case of kleptomania, but in truth, he only takes away these things because he wants to. Nothing more, nothing less.

Despite all this, Lavrentiy is intensely protective of his two children, one of whom is an adopted mundane (though no one knows this…). Those who discover that Vasya is merely human tend to get into rather... unfortunate accidents.

Abilities:

Dimensional Compression: Lavrentiy has the ability to compress the molecular bonds of inorganic objects up to the size of a main battle tank, thereby allowing him to resize them at will. Upon being resized, they will automatically vanish into a pocket dimension that is accessible to him at all times, out of which Lavrentiy may be able to expel them later on, whether forcefully or with care. He usually opts for the latter, as forceful ejection could damage his collectibles. Once ejected, the objects immediately return to normal size. He can also place organic entities inside, but only if they’re already dead.

Telekinesis: Lavrentiy has enormous telekinetic ability, being able to control and manipulate inorganic objects with a combined weight of about three tons. It is a line of sight ability, and gets weaker by distance.

Body Doubles: Lavrentiy is able to jump into clone bodies that he had psychically bonded with upon his present form being terminated. These clones are kept in vaults deep beneath the estates of the Karamazov House, and the only way to ensure he does not return is to seek and destroy each of these vaults. These vaults are heavily sealed, as six out of the ten also double as doomsday fortresses for both his House and the constituents of his realm in case someone ends the world.

Biography:

In another life, Lavrentiy Karamazov might have been a criminal, one of the elusive thieves the world has known and sought. In another timeline, he might not be a lord at all, for such was his lack of ambition. He only seeks to collect and know. Of course, that is not the case. Lavrentiy was born as the first scion of the Karamazov House, heir apparent to the throne that the ageing Fyodor Karamazov would soon leave behind. Because of the hereditary nature of their succession, there was just no doubt that Lavrentiy was going to be the ruler of Sakhalin Island. He was eccentric, however, and some thought that he may be unfit to rule due to… certain fits, one might say. Born with the ability to shove objects inside a pocket dimension, he had quite a knack for carrying valuables away, such as when a prized painting’s disappearance in a Chinese art gallery coincided with the visit of the Karamazov house. No one could ever pinpoint just who did it, though brooding suspicions that were never proven were, in fact, correct. Like father, like son.

Another decade passed, and Fyodor Karamazov, the Curator, passed on to the next life at the ripe age of 90. Lavrentiy, the casual, bored figure that often skulked around in the dark corners of the palace, arose to take the position as Master of Sakhalin. Lavrentiy would prove to be an effective, if not detached, ruler. He never appeared in public, preferring to keep to himself and his collection, giving commands to the ministers to effect whatever he had in mind. In fact, he never addressed his subjects directly, with his siblings and ministers acting as mouthpieces. For this reason, he would be known as the Silent Lord. However, he would be known as the Phoenix Lord by those that had killed him only to see him return in a new body, and the Collector by most, for it is well known that he keeps many valuables within those vaults...
Additional information:

Amongst other things, he has these things in his vaults:

Several cosmonaut suits
A dozen T-34-85 tanks
The preserved head of a first generation meta who shapeshifts into a giant dragon. In short, a giant dragon head
Marble statues of Hammer and Columbia in less than glamorous poses
Taxidermized Resistance fighters (they were already dead from fighting a different dynastic force when it happened, don’t worry)
The last functional Tiger I tank in existence
Seeds of every single food crop
An alleged piece of Adolf Hitler’s skull
A pile of Iron Crosses taken from German generals and officers in the Second World War

Family name: House of Karamazov
Dynastic head: Lavrentiy Fyodorovich Karamazov
Other members:

Bogdan Fyodorovich - Brother; telepathic
Yekaterina Fyodorovna - Sister; cryokinetic
Valentina Petrovna Karamazov - Wife; shapeshifter
Anastasia Lavrentiyovna - Daughter; technopathic
Vasili Lavrentivich - Adopted son; mundane

Territorial claim: Sakhalin Island
Political philosophy: Overall, the House of Karamazov is a liberterian if not feudally divided realm; this is greatly in part to the light hand of their current head. They seem utterly unambitious, and couldn’t care less about what happens outside if they maintain their own stability.
Brief history: The founder of the House, Fyodor, was one of the first generation metahumans that were created after the appearance of the Hammer and Columbia. Just like the current head of the House, he had the ability to compress objects and telekinetic powers. While he did not save nations from drought and disaster, he was good at carrying things away, so the Soviet Union would send him to clandestinely retrieve valuable objects and documents during the Cold War. He was the ultimate thieving bastard, and sometimes, tanks and rockets would disappear overnight, and no one ever knew where it all went.

When the two star-crossed lovers, Hammer and Columbia, began to scheme for the metahuman takeover of the planet, Fyodor, ever the uninterested one, was initially distant, skeptical even. However, he would soon see that just about every one of the costumed metas and heroes had turned to aid the two of them, so Fyodor simply went along with it.

In the ensuing revolution, Fyodor Karamazov and his partner, Teresa, took over the island of Sakhalin. Ruling was not especially their suit, though, and it wouldn't be long before it was apparent that the ministers below them were doing most of the work. They would also be clearly to be utterly self interested creatures, moving only when pressured to do so.

[Britanania]

Name: Lavrentiy Fyodorovich Karamazov
Alias: The Collector; the Phoenix Lord
Alignment: Officially, Dynastic. In truth, loyal only to himself and his own House.
Age: 35
Appearance: Picture
Additional physical features: Lavrentiy is 5'11" tall, and has a rather average physique. He does not seem to exude any kind of intimidating aura as most metas would, though that damn smile can be a little eerie, especially if you had killed him more than once.
Personality: Eccentric and utterly incomprehensible, Lavrentiy is often seen as an insidious presence, with valuable things sometimes vanishing whenever he is around. Otherwise, he does not seem to be malicious to either other metas or his mundane constituents. In fact, the people under his House would say that he rules with a fair hand, if he could be called the ruler to begin with. Much of the actual administration of his realm falls to his younger brother Bogdan, who is more or less just as lenient as he is.

The most well known facet of the Collector is… well, his collection. Many rumors abound on how he has the very first telephone in his vaults, as well as many other priceless artifacts of Earth's history. It is said that Lord Karamazov has a case of kleptomania, but in truth, he only takes away these things because he wants to. Nothing more, nothing less.

Despite all this, Lavrentiy is intensely protective of his two children, one of whom is an adopted mundane (though no one knows this…). Those who discover that Vasya is merely human tend to get into rather... unfortunate accidents.

Abilities:

Dimensional Compression: Lavrentiy has the ability to compress the molecular bonds of inorganic objects up to the size of a main battle tank, thereby allowing him to resize them at will. Upon being resized, they will automatically vanish into a pocket dimension that is accessible to him at all times, out of which Lavrentiy may be able to expel them later on, whether forcefully or with care. He usually opts for the latter, as forceful ejection could damage his collectibles. Once ejected, the objects immediately return to normal size. He can also place organic entities inside, but only if they’re already dead.

Telekinesis: Lavrentiy has enormous telekinetic ability, being able to control and manipulate inorganic objects with a combined weight of about three tons. It is a line of sight ability, and gets weaker by distance.

Body Doubles: Lavrentiy is able to jump into clone bodies that he had psychically bonded with upon his present form being terminated. These clones are kept in vaults deep beneath the estates of the Karamazov House, and the only way to ensure he does not return is to seek and destroy each of these vaults. These vaults are heavily sealed, as six out of the ten also double as doomsday fortresses for both his House and the constituents of his realm in case someone ends the world.

Biography:

In another life, Lavrentiy Karamazov might have been a criminal, one of the elusive thieves the world has known and sought. In another timeline, he might not be a lord at all, for such was his lack of ambition. He only seeks to collect and know. Of course, that is not the case. Lavrentiy was born as the first scion of the Karamazov House, heir apparent to the throne that the ageing Fyodor Karamazov would soon leave behind. Because of the hereditary nature of their succession, there was just no doubt that Lavrentiy was going to be the ruler of Sakhalin Island. He was eccentric, however, and some thought that he may be unfit to rule due to… certain fits, one might say. Born with the ability to shove objects inside a pocket dimension, he had quite a knack for carrying valuables away, such as when a prized painting’s disappearance in a Chinese art gallery coincided with the visit of the Karamazov house. No one could ever pinpoint just who did it, though brooding suspicions that were never proven were, in fact, correct. Like father, like son.

Another decade passed, and Fyodor Karamazov, the Curator, passed on to the next life at the ripe age of 90. Lavrentiy, the casual, bored figure that often skulked around in the dark corners of the palace, arose to take the position as Master of Sakhalin. Lavrentiy would prove to be an effective, if not detached, ruler. He never appeared in public, preferring to keep to himself and his collection, giving commands to the ministers to effect whatever he had in mind. In fact, he never addressed his subjects directly, with his siblings and ministers acting as mouthpieces. For this reason, he would be known as the Silent Lord. However, he would be known as the Phoenix Lord by those that had killed him only to see him return in a new body, and the Collector by most, for it is well known that he keeps many valuables within those vaults...
Additional information:

Amongst other things, he has these things in his vaults:

Several cosmonaut suits
A dozen T-34-85 tanks
The preserved head of a first generation meta who shapeshifts into a giant dragon. In short, a giant dragon head
Marble statues of Hammer and Columbia in less than glamorous poses
Taxidermized Resistance fighters (they were already dead from fighting a different dynastic force when it happened, don’t worry)
The last functional Tiger I tank in existence
Seeds of every single food crop
An alleged piece of Adolf Hitler’s skull
A pile of Iron Crosses taken from German generals and officers in the Second World War

Family name: House of Karamazov
Dynastic head: Lavrentiy Fyodorovich Karamazov
Other members:

Bogdan Fyodorovich - Brother; telepathic
Yekaterina Fyodorovna - Sister; cryokinetic
Valentina Petrovna Karamazov - Wife; shapeshifter
Anastasia Lavrentiyovna - Daughter; technopathic
Vasili Lavrentivich - Adopted son; mundane

Territorial claim: Sakhalin Island
Political philosophy: Overall, the House of Karamazov is a liberterian if not feudally divided realm; this is greatly in part to the light hand of their current head. They seem utterly unambitious, and couldn’t care less about what happens outside if they maintain their own stability.
Brief history: The founder of the House, Fyodor, was one of the first generation metahumans that were created after the appearance of the Hammer and Columbia. Just like the current head of the House, he had the ability to compress objects and telekinetic powers. While he did not save nations from drought and disaster, he was good at carrying things away, so the Soviet Union would send him to clandestinely retrieve valuable objects and documents during the Cold War. He was the ultimate thieving bastard, and sometimes, tanks and rockets would disappear overnight, and no one ever knew where it all went.

When the two star-crossed lovers, Hammer and Columbia, began to scheme for the metahuman takeover of the planet, Fyodor, ever the uninterested one, was initially distant, skeptical even. However, he would soon see that just about every one of the costumed metas and heroes had turned to aid the two of them, so Fyodor simply went along with it.

In the ensuing revolution, Fyodor Karamazov and his partner, Teresa, took over the island of Sakhalin. Ruling was not especially their suit, though, and it wouldn't be long before it was apparent that the ministers below them were doing most of the work. They would also be clearly to be utterly self interested creatures, moving only when pressured to do so.

Aight, looking good. Sergei has a playmate

[Strala]

Couldn't I app for Central China and parts of the East Coast? Sorry if I'm missing something but from the Chinese apps I only really noticed that northern and north eastern china along with parts of Southern China have been taken.

[Strala]

Couldn't I app for Central China and parts of the East Coast? Sorry if I'm missing something but from the Chinese apps I only really noticed that northern and north eastern china along with parts of Southern China have been taken.

[Miekzhemy]

Couldn't I app for Central China and parts of the East Coast? Sorry if I'm missing something but from the Chinese apps I only really noticed that northern and north eastern china along with parts of Southern China have been taken.

Most of the apps for the lords in China have listed off provinces in their area of control to (hopefully) prevent overlapping. There might be a handful that aren't officially "claimed" though. You might want to check the apps

[Strala]

Couldn't I app for Central China and parts of the East Coast? Sorry if I'm missing something but from the Chinese apps I only really noticed that northern and north eastern china along with parts of Southern China have been taken.

Most of the apps for the lords in China have listed off provinces in their area of control to (hopefully) prevent overlapping. There might be a handful that aren't officially "claimed" though. You might want to check the apps

I did. The provinces that have been taken were mostly from Northern, Northeastern, and Southern China. I've noticed that a lot of Central China and the East Coast haven't been claimed yet. Nvm I just saw that someone else already claimed it.

[Britanania]

Most of the apps for the lords in China have listed off provinces in their area of control to (hopefully) prevent overlapping. There might be a handful that aren't officially "claimed" though. You might want to check the apps

I did. The provinces that have been taken were mostly from Northern, Northeastern, and Southern China. I've noticed that a lot of Central China and the East Coast haven't been claimed yet. Nvm I just saw that someone else already claimed it.

Note the provinces you want, that are free

[Strala]

b]Family name:[/b] Liu
Dynastic head: TBA
Other members: TBA
Territorial claim: Sichuan, Chongqing, Guizhou, Yunnan, Hubei, and Henan. Technically, the People's Republic of Central China claims all of China.
Political philosophy: The People's Republic is operated largely in a similar manner to the former People's Republic of China. While espousing equality for all, it is the central government and the bureaucrats that retain true power in the nation. Officially, the nation does not have any nobles nor does it grant titles of nobility to its metahumans as everyone is "equal", unofficially, each ministry and their employees operates similarly to the nobles of other nations with all ultimately being held accountable by the Central Committee. Normal humans are largely left alone and enjoy a relatively prosperous life, though, at times, there will be discrimination against normal humans, especially if they decide to join the central government. Local and provincial governments are largely still operated and run by normal humans and can petition the central government for aid.
Brief history: WIP

[Strala]

I did. The provinces that have been taken were mostly from Northern, Northeastern, and Southern China. I've noticed that a lot of Central China and the East Coast haven't been claimed yet. Nvm I just saw that someone else already claimed it.

Note the provinces you want, that are free

Well, there are a lot of the Central provinces and several southern ones that haven't been claimed. Hubei, Henan, Chongqing (A municipality), Sichuan, Guizhou, and Yunnan all have not been claimed.

[Pragia]

Name: Simon Kilgore
Alias: The Black Knight, SAC Command, Major Kilgore
Alignment: Neutral, leaning toward Dynasts
Age: 54
Appearance: short disheveled grey greasy hair, Pale skin on a very athletic body.
Additional physical features: N/A
Personality: A boisterous and talkative man, Simon has a considerable self-confidence and carries himself closer to a noble than most in his profession. He has a fiery temper to himself, and is rather open in his emotions with people, often uncomfortably so. He has a sanguine humor, a manic energy surrounds him regularly.
Abilities: X-ray Vision: Simon can see depth into objects, able to penetrate up to 10 meters of material at his discretion.
Superhuman Physique: Able to tear open sheet metal and punch through concrete, Simon is able to survive explosives and direct fire from high caliber weapons, and has multiple times.
Healing Factor: Able to rapidly heal injuries, over the course of a few minutes to an day depending on severity.
Biography: Simon Kilgore was born in 1966 in Enfield, England. Born to a working family, Simon was involved in gang activities in his youth, mostly petty shoplifting and vandalism. It wasn't until his powers developed that he realized he had quite the opportunity for greatness. The UK at the time did not have a very developed metahuman detection program, and he was able to slip under the radar through his mandatory schooling.

Finding it difficult to commit more into the local underworld, Simon signed up to join the Royal Army, serving as a tanker in the Gulf War. It was here that he gained his reputation as a butcher, scoring many kills on enemy vehicles, but also having a worrying tendency to fire on enemies after the battle was won. Nonetheless, his challenger was the most decorated vehicle of the 1st Armored, and his successes continued during the continued occupation. His successes would need to be transferred quickly, as he hid his powers until the Millennium War.

In the Millennium War, Simon was deployed to London, part of the forces under Captain Britain, defending his home streets from the insurrection. After his tank was crushed by a magician, mangling his crew and impaling him, he tore himself free and entered a rage. Sputtering blood, Simon tore himself free from the crushed hulk, his body stitching together as he began to personally crush metas with his bare hands. After his rampage, he reported for duty as the Black Knight, and was rewarded with command of the 1st Special Armored Company, where he would fight the meta menace at the helm of one of the most powerful war machines on the planet.

Additional information:

Special Armored Vehicle 1 "Titan" is a 1-Series bipedal assault walker. Powered by a shielded fission reactor and standing at 40 feet tall and weighing nearly 800 tons, it is possessing incredible power. Created with next-generation materials to support its mass and armor that is both warded against thaumetic assault and conventional weaponry. While designed with the intent to be able to be dismembered and still function, it can still move at speeds exceeding 50 km/h. It mounts a bevy of weapon systems for various threats.

The Primary weapon, a 155mm howitzer mounted to its torso, is capable of projecting a 7 kilogram explosive shell up to 30 kilometers. In addition, 40 missile tubes with loading racks allow for volley fire at both short and long range. There are 2 point defense cannons on the shoulders with automated fire control. Finally, there are 6 machine guns mounted across the frame in its arms and hips.

Unit name: 1st Special Armored Company "Black Knights"
Unit Leader: Simon Kilgore
Unit Size: 24 Combatants, ~300 Support Staff
Territorial claim: Operating currently in ___
Political philosophy: To the contract, strictly apolitical.
Brief history: Originally created during the Millennium War from a resistance accelerated weapons program, the Special Armored Company was a unit of large mechanical walkers designed to take on the meta menace head on. This method was, of course, flawed as even titanic nuclear-powered war machines would be unable to stand up to the might of the more powerful metahumans. Regardless, the application of large-caliber direct-fire weaponry was sufficient to kill many metahumans and their collaborators outright. As the war began to wane quickly, the resistance could not afford the exotic materials and logistical requirements of the unit, and demanded that they scuttle their remaining weapons. The unit's leader, the metahuman Simon Kilgore, refused this command and was informed that he would no longer be receiving support as the resistance withdrew.

Realizing the zeal of their opponent's cause, and the weakness of their own, the unit leader acted in the interest of his men, and surrendered on the condition that he be given sovereignty over his men and a writ declaring them freeblades within the new world order. This special status granted them the ability to be contracted by lords major and minor to serve the houses in fighting their former commanders of the resistance. Since receiving this writ and the cold war that followed, the newly renamed "Black Knights" have been hired for all sorts of work. From combat in border skirmishes with plausible deniability, to shows of force and suppression of rebellion by mere presence, and even still assisting in civilian efforts like demolitions, work has been good. The company has used the money this work has generated to maintain their machines, and even upgrade them with tools and weapons produced in more recent years to stay relevant in changing combat conditions.

[Slaver Pirates of Vaas]

Reserving East and South Africa. Application should be up by tomorrow.

[Miekzhemy]

The Conman
Name: Christopher Morgan (adopted name Khünbish Yul Ulagan-Baghatur)

Alias: 'Khuyag' / 'The Conman' / 'Chris'
Alignment: Freeblade (Dynastic-aligned)
Age: 121
Appearance: A middle-aged caucasian man seeming far too fit and spry than his age or appearance may suggest. Though often covered by uniforms or stylish, old-world clothes, much of his body is a mess of old healed-over scars, ranging from minor lacerations to deep gouge wounds and unsightly burns. His light hazel eyes appear almost faded - akin to those of a corpse - and his sharp facial features are frozen in a distant, seemingly otherworldly gaze.
Additional physical features: He effectively no longer ages, and perpetually holds the appearance of a man roughly in his late forties to early fifties. Some minor features however, most notably his dark hair and beard, take on an almost "withered" appearance.

Personality:
On the surface, Chris often comes off as disturbingly laid-back and carefree for someone in his line of work. He is abrasive, often sarcastic, and definitely not above dark and dry humor even when the time is inappropriate, though snippets of honest, elderly wisdom occasionally slip through the cracks.

But beneath the many elaborate, well-structured facades, Chris is much more dangerous than some of his outward impressions suggest. Deep down, he is bitter, vengeful, and holds a manipulative and murderous streak about him that borders on the psychopathic. In the face of danger, he is sadistic to a fault, seeming unaffected by or deriving pleasure from displays of brutality that many would see as utterly barbaric. At the same time, he is extremely patient and ominously perceptive of others. These traits, coupled with the experience of age, make him wildly unpredictable both on and off the battlefield, and a fine pawn for those that control him.

The reasons behind this twisted mindset are difficult to pinpoint. While it is certainly possible it comes from genuine mental illness from his wartime experience, the several decades of ceaseless misery and trauma at the hands of a world that viewed him as no more a monster has invariably led to Chris viewing himself as just that. He has grown to accept this as fact, willingly devolving himself into the angry, sinful man he is.

Abilities:
Ghostly - Though having the outward appearance and feel of a normal human, Chris's body beneath his skin is comprised entirely of an amalgam that can take the liquid-like form of either a blackened, viscous sludge, or a dark cloud of gaseous smoke. His body is capable of dispersing either partly or completely into this amalgam at will, and can remain that way indefinitely before reverting itself back into human form. This makes him effectively intangible so long as the room or container in question is not air-tight. Even in his physical form, he has no organs, bones, nor blood to damage by conventional (and most unconventional) means, rendering him nigh indestructible to most if not all physical harm. Rather than shield himself, he instead absorbs most incoming blows and projectiles entirely, quickly repairing any "damage" his body sustains by either pulling himself back together, or seamlessly regenerating new "flesh" from his missing body parts. His state of matter is also completely within his control, and does not heed to physical phenomena such as extreme temperatures. And as he lacks most bodily systems of a typical human, he is functionally immortal. He also does not grow hungry, get tired, nor feels any pain.
Infestation - When in his more smoke-like form, Christopher is capable of infiltrating the body of another creature or person, typically done so by entrance via an open orifice such as the nose. Though the initial act of entering the body can be seen and felt by a conscious host, once the body in question is thoroughly "infested," Christopher can lie dormant in the host body for hours, days, or even years at a time without the host even realizing it. The act of exiting a host is even more violent than entering one, inducing a number of effects ranging from dizziness to extreme nausea depending on the person. After these effects pass though, the host is left no worse for wear.
Possession - After successfully "infesting" another creature or person, Chris can seize complete control over his host's body, effectively taking over all motor functions and the nervous system in its entirety. In this state, he can mimic human mannerisms and his host's speech, as well as "feel" whatever external stimuli the body is subjected to. This process, however, is less like mind control and more along the lines of glorified puppeteering. He is unable to delve into the thoughts of those he is possessing, nor is he able to pry information out of his host's mind. The power is also largely ineffective against most Metahuman targets.

Biography:
Brought into the world in 1899 to a poor family in the western United States, the boy known to his contemporaries as Christopher Morgan was a troublemaker. By and large, his childhood years were insignificant, despite his penchant for mischief. He attended a local school, spent his free time with friends, and overall led a painfully average life for an American in the early twentieth century.

Or, at least, that was as much as he could remember.

Though the memories of the good old days are fleeting at best, his teen years are clearer to him - when he made the decision to enlist in the military in the final years of the Great War. As America moved to intervene, the young Christopher, now little more than a one Private Morgan in the 35th "Santa Fe" Division, was shipped off to the Western Front, just in time for the 18 year old be hurled directly into front-line combat. It was during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive that his division, devoid of food and ammunition after a successful mission, clashed suddenly and ferociously with a German counterattack. The letter home told his family that the Private was said to have fought bravely, standing his ground amidst horrible odds to defend his retreating comrades. But in reality, he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. On a routine journey to his guard post, a shell landed into his trench, and subsequently detonated at Morgan's feet. The resulting explosion sent the Private's limp body spiraling through the air, his legs ripped to shreds, before flopping lifelessly into one of the countless craters carved into the landscape by ceaseless artillery barrages.

But rather than awake at the Pearly Gates, Private Morgan came to an indeterminate amount of time later, instead lying face-down in a shallow ditch in No Man's Land, filled to the brim with the decaying corpses of friend and foe alike. He pulled himself from the disgusting, viscous sludge that the bodies had become. And though he had felt it in what should have been his final moments - seen his legs separated from his own body by the blast - he looked down to find himself completely intact. He weakly rose to his feet, caked and matted in the slime and gore, but had barely made it several feet from his crater before the darkness took him again.

In the following weeks, the lone, shaken Private found himself drifting from one hospital to another along the Western Front, trying desperately to find any sign of his comrades, or treatment for his supposed "condition." But for reasons he couldn't describe, he couldn't for the life of him even remember their names. His recollection of the ordeal in the Ardennes... Even his own name, more times than he could count, began to slip his mind. The frustration that followed made the young soldier belligerent and violent. Finding no sign of outward head trauma, the doctors deemed his condition as a mere symptom of his shell-shock. Even as the needless bloodbath that was the Great War came to its conclusion, the lone soldier did not return to America. Instead, he found himself transferred to various military hospitals in France, where he developed an impressive reputation for escaping even the most secure of rooms. This continued for months until, in an act that left his caretakers utterly baffled, he somehow broke silently out of his bed restraints in the dead of night, and fled unseen into the wilderness. And over the next several years, police in both southern France and northern Italy often received reports of a dangerous man wandering the countryside, stealing money and other possessions indiscriminately before seemingly disappearing out of thin air, never to be seen again. "A madman," they would say. "Spouting nonsensical outbursts about his comrades in arms..."

It was in the late 1920s, however, when the alleged madman eventually found himself now in the Balkans. And it was here that, in an unexpected display of kindness, he found refuge with a wandering band of Romani; an entire family, roaming across the borders of interwar-period Serbia and Romania. It gave him a semblance of pause in his swindling and thieving ways - a sort of family and companionship he hadn't known since his younger years. But even as he used these many years to turn inward, gathering his thoughts and achieving a vague understanding of his "condition," the world around him was changing.

With the dawn of the 1930s, new regimes had risen to tip the balance of power in continental Europe. And in time, the seemingly endless ambition of Adolf Hitler the war machine of Nazi Germany came along to topple the many new states drawn up in the Great War. The Balkans were no exception, easily falling victim to the Axis powers. And the Romani, like many other ethnic groups beneath the Axis and their oppressive regimes, soon found themselves on a desperate fight for survival against their Nazi occupiers. But in their frantic retreat south towards Bulgaria, Morgan and this newly-found "family" were captured, separated, and whisked towards the recently-established state of Croatia. Now separated, the American soon found himself thrown into Jasenovac, a concentration camp that quickly began to fill up with Serbs, Jews, Muslims, and the fellow Romani he once considered his own people. Most would be sentenced to forced labour or outright exterminated. But upon his captors' discovery of Morgan's "unique physical traits," he just as quickly found himself spirited away into Germany proper, into the hands of Nazi scientists.

Even decades later, the man never chooses to speak of the twisted, indescribable atrocities he witnessed firsthand, and the scars remain even to this day as painful reminders of the mundanes' thoughts of what he was: a tool. A monster. A weapon. Ever destined to be subservient to mankind's cruel whims.

Hearkening back to his days of listless wandering after the Great War, Morgan eventually escaped Nazi captivity in a much similar way as he had many times before, slipping unseen and unheard from his cell amidst the chaos that followed the Soviets' push into Germany. Yet again with little purpose in life, he spent the next several years roaming Eastern Europe, turning back to his old, sinful ways.

This was at the same relative time that more of these supernatural humans - now coined as 'Metahumans' - began to spring up all around the world. But rather than monsters, many were viewed as heroes, using their powers in service of their homeland and of the people. He debated joining them, and perhaps finding a purpose or a cure for this dreaded "curse" upon his physical form. But he knew mankind all too well. Given enough time, even they would become what the Nazis had envisioned for them: tools.

Instead, Morgan would spend the next several decades wandering into the lands of the Soviet Union. He cheated, swindled, and conned his way eastward, embarking on a listless, aimless journey wherever fate took him. For decades he wandered, earning many names and wearing many faces in his seemingly thrill-seeking adventures across the Eurasian plains. To many of the superstitious souls within the post-war Soviet Union and the ethnic peoples of Central Asia, this enigmatic creature would come to be viewed as a sort of boogeyman--a godless abomination, coercing and manipulating the defenseless and gullible into doing whatever he wanted. With no basic bodily needs of his own save for the insatiable boredom brought on by his own immortality, he would steal and kill seemingly for sport, going so far as spending years of his time simply building his next victim's trust. And just as his abilities made him untraceable in old-world Europe, so too was he able to effortlessly evade the ire of whatever authorities or even Metahumans the Soviet Union sent his way. In time, some began to suspect that it was not even a man that perpetrated these crimes, but an anomalous phenomenon--possessing and corrupting the minds of men into committing unspeakable atrocities.

But it was at the turn of the century that he bore witness to something most surprising. Around the time he had reached the steppes of Kazakhstan and Xinjiang, Morgan had heard the news of the Metahumans' frighteningly efficient global takeover. Perhaps it was due to his own detachment from world events as a whole that he hadn't concerned himself with the affairs of the wider world, but seemingly overnight, his own kind had wrested control of the humans that sought to control them. And not even a year after this takeover, the mysterious, roving conman would cross paths with a man that would finally give him the purpose he so desired.

The man's name at the time was Dorj - a powerful Metahuman who had, since their global coup, solidified his control over both Mongolia and northern China. This self-proclaimed "Khan" was a warlord, whose power was matched only by his ambition to unify all of China beneath his own banner. With their shared views of Metahuman supremacy, the two quickly became close friends. And as the Khan warred his way across China, squashing minor Metahuman warlords in the northern provinces, the conman toiled behind the scenes, doing whatever dirty work that the Mongols' benevolent, soon-to-be Emperor needed done. At other times, he served as the Emperor's closest bodyguard and enforcer, thwarting assassination attempts and being a deadly blade where the Yuan's enemies least expected. His skill and ruthless efficiency earned him many epithets and titles from his peers over the years. Khuyag, the Warder. Khünbish, the Inhuman. Yul, he from beyond the horizon. Ulagan-Baghatur, a worldly hero.

Even today, after the Mengyan Emperor's fall - which ushered in a new era for the Great Yuan - the goals, motives, or the mere existence of this undying man from the West are all unknown to many, even within the Mongols' inner circle. And to those that do, he is known to answer to none but the Empress and those of the Dynasty itself. Maybe it is blind loyalty, to the late Emperor that gave him the sense of purpose he so craved. Or perhaps it was a deep-seated, personal pact, made with the man who to him was not just a benevolent lord, but a trusted friend.

Or perhaps it was yet another aimless facade.

Another petty distraction from his curse...

Additional information:
While trekking across the Eurasian steppes, he stole a sword off a Soviet officer largely resembling that of a cossack sabre. After subsequently finding the art interesting, he has since spent the past two decades studying swordsmanship as a sort of "hobby." He has also taken to collecting various types of swords and knives, both outdated and modern.

[Britanania]

Name: Christopher Morgan (adopted name Khünbish Yul Ulagan-Baghatur)
Alias: 'Khuyag' / 'The Conman' / 'Chris'
Alignment: Freeblade (Dynastic-aligned)
Age: 121
Appearance: Rough Appearance
Additional physical features: Despite his advanced age, he effectively no longer ages, and holds the appearance of a man roughly in his fifties. Some minor features however, most notably his hair, take on an almost "withered" appearance.
Personality: Though he often comes off as disturbingly carefree, it is often hard to tell if this is his true nature or yet another structured, well-maintained facade. He is sarcastic and definitely not above humour even when the time is inappropriate. But despite these qualities, deep down he is both clever and calculating - traits that are no doubt a product of his long and eventful life.
Abilities:
Ghostly - Though having the outward appearance and feel of a normal human, Christopher's body beneath his skin is comprised entirely of an amalgam that can take the form of either a blackened, viscous sludge or, most commonly, a dark cloud of smoke. His body is capable of dispersing either partly or completely into this amalgam at will, and can remain that way indefinitely before reverting itself back into human form. This makes him effectively intangible so long as the room or container in question is not air-tight. Even in his physical form, he has no organs, bones, nor blood to damage by conventional (and most unconventional) means, instead absorbing most incoming blows entirely, and regenerating any "damage" his body sustains by seamlessly pulling himself back together. As he lacks most of these bodily systems, he does not grow hungry or tired, and is functionally immortal, further indicated by his apparent lack of aging over the past several decades.
Infestation - When in his more smoke-like form, Christopher is capable of infiltrating the body of another creature or person, typically done so by entrance via an open orifice such as the nose. Though the initial act of entering the body can be seen and felt by a conscious host, once the body in question is thoroughly "infested," Christopher can lie dormant in the host body for hours, days, or even years at a time without the host even realizing it. The act of exiting a host is even more violent than entering one, inducing a number of effects ranging from dizziness to extreme nausea depending on the person. After these effects pass though, the host is left no worse for wear.
Possession - After successfully "infesting" another creature or person, Christopher can seize complete control over his host's nervous system, effectively taking over all motor functions. In this state, he can mimic human mannerisms and his host's speech with ease. This process, however, is less like mind control and more along the lines of glorified puppeteering. He is unable to delve into the thoughts of those he is possessing, nor is he able to pry information out of his host's mind. The power is also largely ineffective against most metahuman targets.
Biography:

Brought into the world in 1899 to a poor family in the western United States, the boy known to his contemporaries as Christopher Morgan was a troublemaker. By and large, his childhood years were insignificant, despite his penchant for mischief. He attended a local school, spent his free time with friends, and overall led a painfully average life for an American in the early twentieth century.

Or, at least, that was as much as he could remember.

Though the memories of the good old days are fleeting at best, his teen years come clearer to him - when he made the decision to enlist in the military in the final years of the Great War. As America moved to intervene, the young Christopher, now little more than a one Private Morgan in the 35th "Santa Fe" Division, was shipped off to the Western Front, just in time for the 18 year old be hurled directly into front-line combat. It was during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive that his division, devoid of food and ammunition after a successful mission, clashed suddenly and ferociously with a German counterattack. The letter home told his family that the Private was said to have fought bravely, standing his ground amidst horrible odds to defend his retreating comrades. But in reality, he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. On a routine journey to his guard post, a shell landed into his trench, and subsequently detonated at Morgan's feet. The resulting explosion sent the Private's limb body spiraling through the air, his legs ripped to shreds, before flopping lifelessly into one of the countless craters carved into the landscape by ceaseless artillery barrages.

But rather than awake at the Pearly Gates, Private Morgan came to an indeterminate amount of time later, instead lying face-down in a shallow ditch in No Man's Land, filled to the brim with the decaying corpses of friend and foe alike. He pulled himself from the disgusting, viscous sludge that the bodies had become. And though he had felt it in what should have been his final moments - seen his legs separated from his own body by the blast - he looked down to find himself completely intact. He weakly rose to his feet, caked and matted in the slime and gore, but had barely made it several feet from his crater before the darkness took him again.

In the following weeks, the lone, shaken Private found himself drifting from one hospital to another along the Western Front, trying desperately to find any sign of his comrades, or treatment for his supposed "condition." But for reasons he couldn't describe, he couldn't for the life of him even remember their names. His recollection of the ordeal in the Ardennes... Even his own name, more times than he could count, began to slip his mind. The frustration that followed made the young soldier belligerent and violent. Finding no sign of outward head trauma, the doctors deemed his condition as a mere symptom of his shell-shock. Even as the needless bloodbath that was the Great War came to its conclusion, the lone soldier did not return to America. Instead, he found himself transferred to various military hospitals in France, where he developed an impressive reputation for escaping even the most secure of rooms. This continued for months until, in an act that left his caretakers utterly baffled, he somehow broke silently out of his bed restraints in the dead of night, and fled unseen into the wilderness. And over the next several years, police in both southern France and northern Italy often received reports of a dangerous man wandering the countryside, stealing money and other possessions indiscriminately before seemingly disappearing out of thin air, never to be seen again. "A madman," they would say. "Spouting nonsensical outbursts about his comrades in arms..."

It was in the late 1920s, however, when the alleged madman eventually found himself now in the Balkans. And it was here that, in an unexpected display of kindness, he found refuge with a wandering band of Romani; an entire family, roaming across the borders of interwar-period Serbia and Romania. It gave him a semblance of pause in his swindling and thieving ways - a sort of family and companionship he hadn't known since his younger years. But even as he used these many years to turn inward, gathering his thoughts and achieving a vague understanding of his "condition," the world around him was changing.

With the dawn of the 1930s, new regimes had risen to tip the balance of power in continental Europe. And in time, the seemingly endless ambition of Adolf Hitler the war machine of Nazi Germany came came along to topple the many new states drawn up in the Great War. The Balkans were no exception, easily falling victim to the Axis powers. And the Romani, like many other ethnic groups beneath the Axis and their oppressive regimes, soon found themselves on a desperate fight for survival against their Nazi occupiers. But in their frantic retreat south towards Bulgaria, Morgan and this newly-found "family" were captured, separated, and whisked towards the recently-established state of Croatia. Now separated, the American soon found himself thrown into Jasenovac, a concentration camp that quickly began to fill up with Serbs, Jews, Muslims, and the fellow Romani he once considered his own people. Most would be sentenced to forced labour or outright exterminated, but upon his captors' discovery of Morgan's "unique physical traits," he just as quickly found himself spirited away into Germany proper, into the hands of Nazi scientists.

Even decades later, the man never chooses to speak of the twisted, indescribable atrocities he witnessed firsthand, and the scars remain even to this day as painful reminders of the humans' thoughts of what he was: a tool - a monster and a weapon, destined to be ever subservient to mankind's cruel whims.

Hearkening back to his days of listless wandering after the Great War, Morgan eventually escaped Nazi captivity in a much similar way as he had many times before. And with little purpose in life, he spent the next half-decade roaming Eastern Europe, surviving in and out of shelters for displaced wartime refugees and stealing what needed to survive. This was at the same relative time that more of these supernatural humans - now coined as 'metahumans' - began to spring up all around the world. But rather than monsters, many were viewed as heroes, using their powers in service of their homeland and of the people. He debated joining them, and perhaps finding a purpose or a cure for this dreaded "curse" upon his physical form. But he knew mankind all too well. Given enough time, even they would become what the Nazis had envisioned for them: tools. Instead, Morgan would spend the next several decades wandering into the lands of the Soviet Union, cheating, swindling, and conning his way eastward.

But it was at the turn of the century that he bore witness to something most surprising. Around the time he had reached the steppes of Kazakhstan and Xinjiang, Morgan had heard the news of the metahumans' frighteningly efficient global takeover. Perhaps it was due to his own detachment from world events as a whole, but seemingly overnight, his own kind had wrested control of the humans that sought to control them. And not even a year after this takeover, the mysterious, roving conman would cross paths with a man that would finally give him the purpose he so desired.

The man's name at the time was Dorji, a powerful metahuman who had, since their global coup, solidified his control over both Mongolia and northern China. The Khan was a warlord, whose power was matched only by his ambition to unify all of China beneath his own banner. With their shared views of metahuman supremacy, the two quickly became close friends. And as the Khan warred his way across China, squashing minor metahuman warlords in the northern provinces, the conman toiled behind the scenes, doing whatever dirty work that the Mongols' benevolent, soon-to-be Emperor needed done.

Additional information: While trekking across the Eurasian steppes, he stole a sword off a Soviet officer largely resembling that of a cossack sabre. After subsequently finding the art interesting, he has since spent the past two decades studying swordsmanship as a sort of "hobby." He has also taken to collecting various types of swords and knives, both outdated and modern.

Noted

[Anthelios]

Btw britannia, do you have any problem with my charachter being a prince-archbishop? Like, he rules a region in the name of the catholic church but still follows the orders of the reich, he's just using the catholic regalia for apeasing the massively catholic south american masses, kinda like how the nazis tried to subvert the churches in germany
also he could be member of a cientific commission for atomic research? i plan on giving him a power involving radiation

[Britanania]

Btw britannia, do you have any problem with my charachter being a prince-archbishop? Like, he rules a region in the name of the catholic church but still follows the orders of the reich, he's just using the catholic regalia for apeasing the massively catholic south american masses, kinda like how the nazis tried to subvert the churches in germany
also he could be member of a cientific commission for atomic research? i plan on giving him a power involving radiation

Hmm, that would be interesting. Viktoria actually maintains, or tries to maintain, good relations with Rome because she herself is Roman Catholic. Him being a part of a commission of research would also be very cash money.

If you have questions about the Reich, I did write up a constitution for them.

[Anthelios]

Btw britannia, do you have any problem with my charachter being a prince-archbishop? Like, he rules a region in the name of the catholic church but still follows the orders of the reich, he's just using the catholic regalia for apeasing the massively catholic south american masses, kinda like how the nazis tried to subvert the churches in germany
also he could be member of a cientific commission for atomic research? i plan on giving him a power involving radiation

Hmm, that would be interesting. Viktoria actually maintains, or tries to maintain, good relations with Rome because she herself is Roman Catholic. Him being a part of a commission of research would also be very cash money.

If you have questions about the Reich, I did write up a constitution for them.

Fantastic, i will note the good relations she has with Rome in my lore too
I would love to read this constitution of the Reich

[Britanania]

Hmm, that would be interesting. Viktoria actually maintains, or tries to maintain, good relations with Rome because she herself is Roman Catholic. Him being a part of a commission of research would also be very cash money.

If you have questions about the Reich, I did write up a constitution for them.

Fantastic, i will note the good relations she has with Rome in my lore too
I would love to read this constitution of the Reich

Yeah I have it as a PDF, if you join the Discord it's there

[Anthelios]

Fantastic, i will note the good relations she has with Rome in my lore too
I would love to read this constitution of the Reich

Yeah I have it as a PDF, if you join the Discord it's there

'k, just update the discord link on the OP because the one there is expired

[Britanania]

Yeah I have it as a PDF, if you join the Discord it's there

'k, just update the discord link on the OP because the one there is expired

RIP xD

[Britanania]

Try now

[Anthelios]

Try now

done and done

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Britanania]

Name: Françoys De Villiers
Alias: François (in modern day France); Monsieur Le Bon (modern alias)
Alignment: Françoys is loyal to himself and nothing else, although he does hold pro-Resistance sympathies out of boredom from the status quo
Age: 312
Appearance: (for now temporary, might draw more accurate reference later)
Personality: Françoys is, for all that matters, a free spirit. A lifespan of centuries and the mastery of several crafts and activities have made him perpetually bored to the point that doing what others would consider life-changing decisions is just another Tuesday for him. Indulging in countless pleasures, aiming for perpetually stronger physical prowess, and generally having the freedom for the action and thought that suit him are the defining traits and aims of the vampire. Such freedom, combined with taking pity on the average human with an average lifespan, means that Françoys always sets aside a couple of decades to do more collective-centered things such as learning the language of the locality in which he has settled down, as well as growing his own wealth, prestige, and reputation as the benefactor of said community.
Françoys does not have a very consistent moral compass, the idea of morality mostly being shaped around his own pleasure and comfort, but still acts with impunity on what he sees as righteous and wrong at the moment.

Abilities:

1. Vampire Physiology: Françoys does not age. The vampire also possesses physical capabilities, condition, senses, and instincts that could easily beat Olympic athletes, as well as resistance to standard bullets and blades. However, he is exceptionally weak to any projectile or blade made of or laced with silver. Françoys is also significantly depowered by exposure to sunlight, and downright vulnerable to fire and natural bodies of water, the latter of which burns just as much as the former.
   
2. Vampiric Regeneration: Françoys is capable of absolute regeneration when the conditions are ideal, such ideal situation including the availability of young blood on which to feed. However, exposure to any of the elements mentioned in the previous item can dull this power to great extent, and impalement through the heart nullifies it completely.
   
3. Experienced Fighter: Having trained for decades in various forms of hand-to-hand combat, Françoys mostly developed high preference and competence in a mixture of Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. The vampire is also competent in using various melee weapons and firearms, his familiarity with the latter spanning equipment several time periods.
   
4. The Mist: For a short duration of time, Françoys can transform into mistform and move as freely in space as a puff of smoke can.
   
5. Charisma: Due to a noble upbringing and having been able to refine his interpersonal skills for centuries, Françoys sees no struggle in building strong ties within a group, having done so over and over again whenever the centurial need to resettle comes.

Biography: Born in 1708 to the royal family of Villiers, rulers of the Duchy of Landes which located in modern-day southwestern France, Françoys was the oldest of three brothers. His father, the Duke of Landes, ensured that Françoys was trained in all the matters that concerned a proper heir: leadership, sword fighting, literature, horseback riding, firearms, court etiquette, the art of war, among others. Some of these greatly interested the nobleman, others not as much, but by the end of his developmental years he began to show the desire of exploring beyond the realms over which his family ruled. In fact, he showed very little interest in becoming a ruler when compared to his eagerness for savoring all the world had to offer. Therefore, when his father lay on his deathbed, Françoys orchestrated with his younger brother a false scandal in which the latter was, in fact, older than Françoys, and therefore the proper heir to the Duchy. Françoys made no attempt at resisting the claim he had helped fabricate and gave it all up in accordance to the plan, freeing himself from the shackles of having to do boring ruler work.

After that very brief and strange succession crisis, Françoys set out to explore the continent with a small group of his most loyal companions, as he'd wished to. For 3000 days and nights, they traveled all over Europe and the near East, the nobleman's life being saved countless times from both others and himself by his comrades. One day, at the ripe age of 33, their caravan lost its first member, one who wished to return home and settle down with a family. As the years passed and Françoys seemingly held no wish for ever giving up on his travels, the caravan grew smaller and smaller.

At the same time, it was almost as if the sun was becoming more and more unbearable.

It was not for years or decades: the vampire would travel for centuries. Back home, Françoys acquired the status of a legend, many stories being told about the nobleman who gave up his throne to explore the realm, yet with the ultimate assumption that he had perished on his 101st year. It did not take long for Françoys to take note of his powers, as well as his several weaknesses to mundane things such as the sun and natural bodies of water. Taking great care, he would settle in a region for a decade, build a reputation, learn the language, then mysteriously leave his dark manor behind.

Eventually, the vampire grew bored, and made his way back through Russia, intending on arriving back to his birthplace in France. The year was 1938.

Passing through German territory and having settled down in Germany a couple times in the past, Françoys decided to pose as a citizen and apply for the Wehrmacht military academy as joke, somehow passing. During WW2, he quickly rose to the rank of Colonel after his particular successes in nighttime operations in the Eastern Font, always keeping in mind how the whole thing was just the result of him losing himself in his own irony. The vampire was also invited several times to seemingly random tests by some sort of secret institute of the German government, but he just found the whole thing silly. As the tides of war turned, the Nazi vampire vanished as swiftly as he'd arrived, finding his way onto a civilian ship that was making its safe passage to Manaus, in Brazil.

As the ship entered the mouth of the Amazon river, disaster struck the novice crew, the ship colliding with submerged rocks and capsizing the vessel. Françoys attempted to save himself, but the tropical sun was too strong and not something the vampire was used to, prompting him to be so drained of power that he immediately fell unconscious. The vampire was taken by the river, ending up in a swamp that would serve as his resting place for the next seven decades. Françoys was not done quite yet.

Additional information: Françoys firmly believes that whiskey and rum boost his strength significantly, and has yet to learn that it is merely a placebo.

Aight, noted

[Remnants of Exilvania]

Name: Alois Eusebius Pappenstiel
Alias: Clockwork Kommandant
Alignment: Dynastic
Age: 55
Appearance: The glorious lord of Switzerland when he doesn't use a clock as his face
Additional physical features: 1,90 m and 95 kg
Personality: A theatrical, pompous man with an unhealthy obsession with punctuality and most importantly, clocks. Also with an absolutely screwed view of what constitues as Swiss.
Abilities:

• An excellent and ingenious albeit twisted mind
• formerly enough physical prowess and durability to not get instantly executed by Sergei and being capable to give the Soviet a bruise at least...however, due to wounds sustained that is no longer an option as tapping into his full physical power generates an immense strain on his damaged heart, increasing the risk of heart attack and shortening his lifespan

Biography: Alois Eusebius Pappenstiel was born in 1959 in Luzern to a middle class family. Clockmakers in particular, with the art of clockmaking having been the family business for generations. As such it was of course expected that he too would eventually inherit the business so he was schooled in the trade by his father alongside his regular education. Sadly, it was not to be.

In 1977 Alois entered the Swiss military, conscripted like pretty much everyone else. He went through the same basic training just like everyone else but little did he know that he was scouted out by his superiors. Excellent intelligence, physical very fit, no sicknesses. A perfect candidate for their newest project. Switzerland's own first meta. Of course they asked for his permission first. When he didn't give it they just chloroformed him and hauled him off. A couple of months of genetic manipulation and chemical treatment and Switzerland had its own metahuman. Oh, of course it was an unwilling metahuman majorly pissed at what had been done to him against his will but the Swiss state had ways to treat that.

Enter months of hallucinogenic drugs and hypnotic suggestions and voila, the Swiss had torn down Alois sanity like a wrecking ball a brick wall. He had become but a lapdog, caged within nets upon nets of suggestions and programmings while his Swiss handlers...handled him. Not in any good way either, keeping him locked up most of the time, unless they were busy parading him around on military exercises as a threat to dissuade invasion and the like. However, atleast when they locked him up again, he was alone. Alone with his shattered mind, his thoughts and the constant ticking in his mind. But atleast nobody was commanding him, nobody was reinforcing this state in his mind. Nobody was messing him up again. And so, over the decades he slowly started piecing his mind back together.

In the 90s the pitiful Alois would come face to face with Columbia for the first time, his horrid state of mind, that was all too apparent when one managed to get a longer conversation with him or observe him closely for a while, probably increasing the american superheroine's growing hatred of the nationstates and the governments commanding them all around. However, due to his questionable mental state he was not included in the planning for the Millennium War and left in the dark untill fellow metahumans busted him out during the war.

Originally Alois was not meant to be the lord of Switzerland. Despite being the posterchild of Swiss metahumans and the strongest among them, he was far from the best option to rule anything. However, the Swiss did not quite take the removal of their authorities as well as other countries did. The militia system, the cantons, the weapons hidden everywhere...the Swiss state was in an uproar for years after the Millennium War. Resistance groups occasionally held larges swathes of Switzerland and the Swiss metahumans, with fairly few mundane forces to back them up against their enraged countrymen, quickly lost their patience and applied unorthodox tactics. Such as burying entire valleys beneat avalanches and executing anyone living close to a Resistance attack. A war of attrition raged up in the scenic and beautiful Swiss mountains and while the ratio was approximately 200.000 Swiss per dead metahuman, the number of metahumans in Switzerland continued to dwindle in the constant anti-insurgent warfare. As did the swiss population and economy which had essentially ceased to be.

In 2015 the collapse of the Gotthard tunnel in pursuit of Resistance Forces cost the live of the lord of Switzerland. With about 95% of all Swiss metahumans dead at this point and some sort of strong, unifying symbol sorely needed, Alois was elevated to being the lord of Switzerland. Which turned out to be a big mistake as under Sergei's glorious leadership, the Swiss population plummeted even more rapidly. As did the count of Swiss metahumans, Alois having a penchant to not particularly care about wether or not his policies ended up killing metahumans or humans. All that mattered was that his true Switzerland became reality.

An engagement with Resistance Forces in the streets of Zürich led to Alois getting a bomb strapped to his chest that promptly went off, ripping a huge hole into him but not killing him, instead sending him into a berserker rage that cost the entire remaining population of Zürich their lives before the few friendly metahumans still left in Switzerland managed to collect him lying in some ditch and babbling deliriously. He was nursed back to almost full health but his heart sustained serious damage and as such couldn't take the stress of him going all out anymore, atleast not without greatly shortening his projected lifespan.

Fast forward to the present time and Switzerland and returned to the 19th century, both economically and demographically. Modern weaponry is hoarded like treasures by the loyalists in the Ticktock Militia, Alois' "elite" guard formation, while the loyal remainders of the Swiss Army desperately try to keep scavenged military gear from the 60s in working order.
Additional information: The Swiss Military is literally back to the 60s but practically even worse. The Swiss economy is in shambles, the country having returned to the rural state it used to be, though precision mechanics like clockmakers are still in high demand and frequently trained. The Ticktock Militia enforces loyalty to Alois, the new lord of Switzerland and frequently shows a vile face, dominated by love for abusing their authority and rampant xenophobia. Most of their members are opportunist though there are actually mad men in them that believe in Alois' twisted view of how Switzerland ought to be. Most peculiarly, Switzerland uses an own internal currency. Time. Tinkering Alois came up with a wonderful new invention, the wristwatch. Just with the change that it was locked to the wearer's wrist, could accept and dispense "time" and would electrocute the wearer before detonating alongside their hand once the time ran out. Of course the Swiss also accept whatever other currency and provide services for it though they still trade time.

The dispension of time is overseen by the Schweizer Zeitbank which ensures that there is never too much of it going around and keeps the threat of death in case of not working hard enough or showing loyalty hanging above everyone's heads. The Zeitbank houses the central time computer, a monstrous machine connected to all the wristwatches and which can control the time on them remotely. It can also shut off or unlock the watches. The enforcers and employees of the Zeitbank are the Grey Men, the only people in Switzerland aside from Alois who are exempted from the time based currency. Primarily in order to ensure that they don't profit from their workplace. Zeitbank employees are generally recruited from the ranks of the Ticktock Miltia and and are considered the highest achievable position in Switzerland.

[Britanania]

Name: Alois Eusebius Pappenstiel
Alias: Clockwork Kommandant
Alignment: Dynastic
Age: 55
Appearance: The glorious lord of Switzerland when he doesn't use a clock as his face
Additional physical features: 1,90 m and 95 kg
Personality: A theatrical, pompous man with an unhealthy obsession with punctuality and most importantly, clocks. Also with an absolutely screwed view of what constitues as Swiss.
Abilities:

• An excellent and ingenious albeit twisted mind
• formerly enough physical prowess and durability to not get instantly executed by Sergei and being capable to give the Soviet a bruise at least...however, due to wounds sustained that is no longer an option as tapping into his full physical power generates an immense strain on his damaged heart, increasing the risk of heart attack and shortening his lifespan

Biography: Alois Eusebius Pappenstiel was born in 1959 in Luzern to a middle class family. Clockmakers in particular, with the art of clockmaking having been the family business for generations. As such it was of course expected that he too would eventually inherit the business so he was schooled in the trade by his father alongside his regular education. Sadly, it was not to be.

In 1977 Alois entered the Swiss military, conscripted like pretty much everyone else. He went through the same basic training just like everyone else but little did he know that he was scouted out by his superiors. Excellent intelligence, physical very fit, no sicknesses. A perfect candidate for their newest project. Switzerland's own first meta. Of course they asked for his permission first. When he didn't give it they just chloroformed him and hauled him off. A couple of months of genetic manipulation and chemical treatment and Switzerland had its own metahuman. Oh, of course it was an unwilling metahuman majorly pissed at what had been done to him against his will but the Swiss state had ways to treat that.

Enter months of hallucinogenic drugs and hypnotic suggestions and voila, the Swiss had torn down Alois sanity like a wrecking ball a brick wall. He had become but a lapdog, caged within nets upon nets of suggestions and programmings while his Swiss handlers...handled him. Not in any good way either, keeping him locked up most of the time, unless they were busy parading him around on military exercises as a threat to dissuade invasion and the like. However, atleast when they locked him up again, he was alone. Alone with his shattered mind, his thoughts and the constant ticking in his mind. But atleast nobody was commanding him, nobody was reinforcing this state in his mind. Nobody was messing him up again. And so, over the decades he slowly started piecing his mind back together.

In the 90s the pitiful Alois would come face to face with Columbia for the first time, his horrid state of mind, that was all too apparent when one managed to get a longer conversation with him or observe him closely for a while, probably increasing the american superheroine's growing hatred of the nationstates and the governments commanding them all around. However, due to his questionable mental state he was not included in the planning for the Millennium War and left in the dark untill fellow metahumans busted him out during the war.

Originally Alois was not meant to be the lord of Switzerland. Despite being the posterchild of Swiss metahumans and the strongest among them, he was far from the best option to rule anything. However, the Swiss did not quite take the removal of their authorities as well as other countries did. The militia system, the cantons, the weapons hidden everywhere...the Swiss state was in an uproar for years after the Millennium War. Resistance groups occasionally held larges swathes of Switzerland and the Swiss metahumans, with fairly few mundane forces to back them up against their enraged countrymen, quickly lost their patience and applied unorthodox tactics. Such as burying entire valleys beneat avalanches and executing anyone living close to a Resistance attack. A war of attrition raged up in the scenic and beautiful Swiss mountains and while the ratio was approximately 200.000 Swiss per dead metahuman, the number of metahumans in Switzerland continued to dwindle in the constant anti-insurgent warfare. As did the swiss population and economy which had essentially ceased to be.

In 2015 the collapse of the Gotthard tunnel in pursuit of Resistance Forces cost the live of the lord of Switzerland. With about 95% of all Swiss metahumans dead at this point and some sort of strong, unifying symbol sorely needed, Alois was elevated to being the lord of Switzerland. Which turned out to be a big mistake as under Sergei's glorious leadership, the Swiss population plummeted even more rapidly. As did the count of Swiss metahumans, Alois having a penchant to not particularly care about wether or not his policies ended up killing metahumans or humans. All that mattered was that his true Switzerland became reality.

An engagement with Resistance Forces in the streets of Zürich led to Alois getting a bomb strapped to his chest that promptly went off, ripping a huge hole into him but not killing him, instead sending him into a berserker rage that cost the entire remaining population of Zürich their lives before the few friendly metahumans still left in Switzerland managed to collect him lying in some ditch and babbling deliriously. He was nursed back to almost full health but his heart sustained serious damage and as such couldn't take the stress of him going all out anymore, atleast not without greatly shortening his projected lifespan.

Fast forward to the present time and Switzerland and returned to the 19th century, both economically and demographically. Modern weaponry is hoarded like treasures by the loyalists in the Ticktock Militia, Alois' "elite" guard formation, while the loyal remainders of the Swiss Army desperately try to keep scavenged military gear from the 60s in working order.
Additional information: The Swiss Military is literally back to the 60s but practically even worse. The Swiss economy is in shambles, the country having returned to the rural state it used to be, though precision mechanics like clockmakers are still in high demand and frequently trained. The Ticktock Militia enforces loyalty to Alois, the new lord of Switzerland and frequently shows a vile face, dominated by love for abusing their authority and rampant xenophobia. Most of their members are opportunist though there are actually mad men in them that believe in Alois' twisted view of how Switzerland ought to be. Most peculiarly, Switzerland uses an own internal currency. Time. Tinkering Alois came up with a wonderful new invention, the wristwatch. Just with the change that it was locked to the wearer's wrist, could accept and dispense "time" and would electrocute the wearer before detonating alongside their hand once the time ran out. Of course the Swiss also accept whatever other currency and provide services for it though they still trade time.

The dispension of time is overseen by the Schweizer Zeitbank which ensures that there is never too much of it going around and keeps the threat of death in case of not working hard enough or showing loyalty hanging above everyone's heads. The Zeitbank houses the central time computer, a monstrous machine connected to all the wristwatches and which can control the time on them remotely. It can also shut off or unlock the watches. The enforcers and employees of the Zeitbank are the Grey Men, the only people in Switzerland aside from Alois who are exempted from the time based currency. Primarily in order to ensure that they don't profit from their workplace. Zeitbank employees are generally recruited from the ranks of the Ticktock Miltia and and are considered the highest achievable position in Switzerland.

Nice, accepted. The Morrigan has quite the menagerie.