The Snowflake of Characters (A Character Development exercise)

This intrigued him. There was only one other organization involving people with powers he was aware of, not including the one he was currently in which was the IPA(International Psychic's Association) in England. He needed to find out more, for anything working for the monarchy that wasn't under the government or himself was suspect. He contorted his face into a greater frown, his furled brow in thought, hinting at a few lines on his forehead may have shown his age, but more likely shown how many times he's come to make that face.

As he stroked his chin, the man began formulating a plan. There was no way in the great United Kingdom that a snowplow of all things would catch up to a helicopter. This owuld take some deep thought but he could probably levitate it towards the copter and keep it at a stead pace. Of course this would mean he wouldn't be able to use the power of suggestion to make sure they ignored it.

The man stared down at the slow moving plow. Visual input was the only way telekinesis could work. He opened his palms towards the top of the plow and the entire thing glowed with golden power that matched the one on his forehead and as it lifted into the air, he ground his teeth and popped a few veins around his temples. It was almost impossible to sweat in weather this freezing but a single, solitary, salty drop rolled down his forehead and around his goggles as he squinted his eyes in the agony.

As it rose into the air and slowly, but surely catching up with the helicopter, Many would gaze into the night sky that night and swore they saw a golden shooting star, moving at an ant's pace, rising up from the earth instead of towards it.

Willery stopped polishing his gun with the edge of his jacket a moment and decided to see just where the hell he was. He looked out the window of the helicopter, and saw a very peculiar sight. The snowplow... was FLYING. And GLOWING. And there was also a boy in yellow riding it. His jaw dropped and stayed there for several seconds, and his tense hand loosened from the grip of his gun as it fell to the floor with a clack. Finally, he yelled abruptly at the top of his lungs, "ALIEN TRACTOR BEAMS! THE ALIENS ARE USING THEIR SPACESHIP TRACTOR BEAMS!" He panicked and started to fumble for the gun that he thought was in his hand.

It took a bit of time but he finally had the pace of things. The pace was good enough to follow the helicopter and his mind was at ease enough to let his mind slightly, but it didn't have much to wander towards besides this organization.

Suddenly, he almost the poor snowplow. He realigned himself and was back on track, and now that his mind was at ease, he had enough on his mind to silence a moron. He reached into the mind of Willery and made him calm down. Perhaps... a little too much, which he liked just fine. Soon enough, this idiot would be shutting pup, forgetting what in the world he was talking about, and if he was lucky, the guy would lose all feeling in his nervous system for a little bit.

(OOC: Willery has no common sense. He's one of those crazy NWO-alien-tinfoil hatter conspiracy theorists. He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about in the first place. )

Willery was just about to have a heart attack from freaking out so much, when he felt something prodding at his mind. He felt his limbs losing feeling, his knees buckling, his consciousness draining, as he fell onto the floor in a heap.

His last thoughts were something along the lines of, "Damn alien mind probes. Not this sh*t again..." before he started sleeping. Shortly afterwards, he was snoring. It was a rumbling sound that shook the floor around him. Funny how such a skinny guy could make such a raucous cacophony.

"Arthur?" Milo said uncertainly as yellow light surrounded the snow plow. "Arthur, it's that strange mage again!" Belated he realised that Arthur hadn't been there, hadn't seen the yellow light that had pulled Scarf-woman out through the broken bus wondow and the strange, grumpy human it came from.

Milo cried out in fear as the snowplow lurched... and began to rise into the air! What is that man doing? he thought, shocked. Mages can't do things like this! Nevertheless, the snowplow rose and rose. Milo peered out the window, and his stomach dropped as he saw how high he was. He must be really powerful. I haven't even heard of any official mages that could do this...

At least the yellow mage had seemed to be... not friendly, no, quite the opposite, but he'd probably been trying to help. Milo realised that this must be scary for Arthur, who hadn't met the yellow mage before.

"He was there after the bus crashed," Milo told Arthur. "He was floating people around then, too."

Milo took another glance out the window and quailed. They were so high! If the mage lost control...

A thought occurred to Milo - the mage could talk mind-to-mind! Milo should try and contact him! Milo closed his eyes - training master Harrow had said not to, but Milo was having enough trouble focusing as it was - and reached out, searching.

Hello? he thought. Yellow mage! Yellow mage, can you hear me?

edited 1st Jan '11 11:30:37 PM by LoniJay

The man caught wind of someone reaching out to him. He grimaced, for the thought patterns were all too familiar. He squinted in anger and was insulted greatly by what he was being called. It sickened him deeply to be contacted by such an insolent youth. In fact, it was shameful he was even transporting the idiot.It was necessary and proper for him to set him straight.

'Insolent brat, I am no mage. Any child with half a brain cell knows magic does not exist in this universe and if you refer to me by that moronic moniker again you will find yourself with amnesia... In a crackhouse. I. Am. The Psychic.' Psy-kick roared in Milo's brain with unfathomable rage searing into his mind. The snowplow shook slightly, his rage affecting how he concentrated on the telekinesis.

"Aah!" Milo cried. His hands went to his head, and his eyes snapped open as the link broke. He leant forward, head cradled in his hands. That had hurt. "Ow. Ow."

What did I do? Milo thought, bewildered. The pain ebbed away, and he looked up. They were still aloft, but the snowplow shook slightly. Was the man mad? How did he think he was doing all this if it wasn't with magic? Milo hadn't understood about half of the words in the enraged torrent that he'd been knocked back by. Maybe the man was mad.

"Um," he said to Arthur, "I... I was just trying to talk to the person who's got the snowplow." He gave a sickly smile. "It... it didn't go very well. Want me to try again?"

edited 1st Jan '11 11:56:31 PM by LoniJay

'You are stupid. And you are a child. That is good enough for me,' Psy-kick responded bitterly as he held the snowplow up a little higher and tried to maintain his balence. He did not want to be bothered by stupid children with their stupid questions. He was far too intelligent, too grown, too mature, and as his powers indicated, too advanced. He simply stared forward and progressed on, every so often looking at the snowplow to maintain constant visual contact so he could continue. All of his hate could be summed up into the musings of one moronic little boy. One. Little. Boy.

Willery Wyvernjack groggily awoke from his slumber. "Hey you guys, I had the craziest dream last night! There was this flying snowplow and a boy in yellow... Aw, never mind."

Suddenly he felt a pang of insanity in his mind. Fearing the worst, he looked down and saw (rather, hallucinated) that his hands had appeared to turn into birds. Their front ends were flapping and chirping, but the rest of them seemed to blend seamlessly into his arms, as if they were one creature. He decided to play a game with his imaginary friends.

"I AM BIRD-ARMS!" he shouted. "Come, my feathered finger friends! Fly! FLY! BAHAHAHAHA!" And he ran around the cabin with his arms stretched out like an airplane while the birds were inadvertently shaken back and forth, sputtering whistling calls and flapping maniacally.

Of course, all anyone else saw was an idiot half-elf running around with his arms in front of him. Willery is frighteningly ill that way.

Milo looked around, startled. He hadn't addressed that recent thought to the mage; he'd thought he'd broken the mind link. He was sure he had. And yet the other mage was still talking to Milo?

"Hang on," he told Arthur. "He's still there."

I'm not a child, he said, reaching out again. I'm 17 years old. That wasn't quite true, he didn't turn 17 for a few months yet, but it was best to round up, he thought. Sorry I insulted you.. But can we talk civilly for a minute? Why are you flying our snowplow?

edited 2nd Jan '11 1:11:23 AM by LoniJay

(OOC: I IZ GOINGS TO BED NAO OKTHXBAI)

Psy-kick was surprised by the new information but was utterly unimpressed. If anything, this just made him even angry that the entire snowplow began to rattle in his child-despising anger. He could barely contain himself. The nerve of this "child" was mind-boggling, insane, he knew supervillains more comprehensible and that was saying something.

'Impossible, no 17 year old can be as daft and naive as yourself,' Psy-kick said with crippling rage. He was barely even capable of processing the other notion issued towards him, but he took a moment to slow his brain down. His agent always told him to take yoga classes to work out his anger issues and he never believed in that wishy washy girly stuff. He continued to respond to the .... "17-year old's" question. 'And if you must know, I am curious to know what fictional government agency these people were working for and I cannot levitate myself. The snowplow was merely convenient becuase you were following them anyway.'

Milo winced. He'd never known anyone's emotions to come through so obviously in their mind-speech. Why was this man so angry all the time? It made Milo's head hurt.

Beg your pardon, sir, but I am, he said. What do you mean, you can't... whatsit yourself? Hang on.. A thought struck Milo. Did that mean... You're in the snowplow with us?

'You really are thick, do I look like I'm inside the snowplow, child?' The Psy-kcik growled into the mind of Milo. If he knew he was causing pain, and he probably did, he didn't care. The mental welfare of a child was not important to him. He was rattling the snowplow as he thought. H needed to calm down. TO concentrate. He thought back to his father, which only caused him to rage even further. He then about decided to stick to just thinking about his father' training, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3,4... Four little soldiers marching in a row... Always in line and never out of flow...

Anyone watching the sky above and to the east of the levitating snowplow would spot a small speck growing larger by the second. Soon, it resolved into a human figure, swooping down towards the vehicle from high altitude.

The figure matched speeds with the plow and pulled in alongside it. It was a woman, wearing a long dark grey trenchcoat with maroon trim that flapped in her slipstream. Underneath, they would be able to glimpse a silver-grey and red vest with several black leather bandoliers, as well as black combat-cargo pants and boots. Buckled around the woman's waist was a sheathed sword, and there was a red glow emanating from her fingerless gloves.

A long ponytail of greyish-brown hair flicked and flapped in the wind, and the woman turned her head to look at the floating plow. She had some sort of gas-mask strapped to her face, with mirrored red lenses and a pointed, snout-like air-filter.

Anyone inside with the ability to recieve telepathy would hear a stern, buisnesslike voice in their heads. "This is Faction Sergeant Danze to..." The voice hesitated. "...to unknown vehicle. Identify, please."

(OOC: Hi guys, mind if I join in for a while?)

edited 2nd Jan '11 5:23:07 AM by Gaunt88

(OOC: Sure thing! I kind of welcome the company.)

After playing around with his "bird-arms", he realized in a flash that it was just another hallucination, there and then gone. And because of this, he was sulking. Why can't those fun daydreams last forever? Why does he have to perceive the cold, harsh reality that the government is out to get him? "WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL?" he thought aloud.

He smooshed his face against the cold window, his breath condensing into clouds on the glass. He observed out of the corner of his eye a flying woman in a trenchcoat. "Damn," he said. "This is turning out to be quite the clusterfuck of flying things, huh?"

'This is none of your damn business woman, but if you must know, I am in pursuit of a potentially non-existent government agency with the intent of investigation,' Psy-kick replied, now losing his patience. He basically thought with the intent to hurt somebody, he wa sjust that annoyed. With the child and now the woman, it was as though people were throwing things into the Krakatoa, flammable things, just waiting for it to combust. and at this point he nearly dropped the poor snow plow. There was a brief jolt. and he looked down back at the snowplow and got the the whole thing straightened up. He got his mind set, perfectly back on course.

'Now I suggest you go home and cook something, you're an interference.' He telepathically said in a slightly calmer voice. He then attempted to increase the speed of the of the snow plow, a vein popped on his forehead and he moved at an ever so slightly quicker speed.

Milo looked around when he heard the crisp female voice in his mind. Another one! he thought to himself. Doesn't anybody here initiate mind-links politely?

Still, it was a better option than listening to the yellow mage rant at him, and he liked the cool professionalism in her voice. Milo reached out, fumbling for the familiar touch of the woman's mind.

Trainee Guardsman Milo Weaver, assigned to outpost Patience, he replied. Border Guard of the nation Ceraliza.

Sergeant Alexis Danze narrowed her eyes behind her mask. What a charmer. She thought to herself as she recieved the old mage's response. It was bad enough that she couldn't get in contact with AdminFac, but the first magic-user she comes across in this world is sexist and rude.

She started when the plow dipped perilously, but raised one eyebrow as the levitating vehicle righted itself and accelerated away from her. If it was an attempt to shake her off it was a poor one, as she effortlessly accelerated to match its speed again.

She recieved a refreshingly polite and former reply from another of the plow's occupants, although she'd never heard of a world called Ceraliza. Am I that far outside Faction territory?

"Aknowledged, Mr Weaver." She sent, dipping her head. "Standby, I will be joining you shortly."

She glanced at the vehicle the group was apparently following. It was very primative, but it was fast, and looked well-armed. She would have to check it out soon. But for now, there was someone else to deal with.

"I'll say it again." She sent, swooping in closer, her voice still cool and professional, although the tone was slightly icier than before. "I am an officer of the Administrative Faction Special Branch, and I'm still waiting for your identification."

edited 3rd Jan '11 3:01:06 AM by Gaunt88

OOC: 34 is old?

IC: 'If you are not aware of who the hell I am then I suggest you get a brain,' Psy-kick replied angrily. He was getting tired of all these stupid people everywhere getting up in his issues. He wanted to find out who these people were, he had a transport and idiots are flying right beside him getting up in his business? who was she, what was the big idea. Another vein popped up on his forehead as he strained even harder to move this hunk of junk so he could get to his destination and find out who these paper people were!

Nevertheless, he answered, albeit reluctantly. 'I am The Psychic, the moronic masses nickname me Psy-kick, hero and defender and resident of England, and that is all you need to know, now I repeat, woman, stand down!' He was firmer in his thoughts this time, if he got angrier he would lose control and drop thee people, and himself.

OOC: Sorry, I missed his age. I guess I somehow got the impression he was an old man ^^; I'll edit.

IC: Alexis was scowling now, although this was still hidden behind her mask. "You don't get to order me around, civilian." She sent, her mental voice positively cold now. Does he know who he's dealing with? If he dosen't recognise a Faction Officer when he sees one I really must be in the backwaters.

Taking a deep breath, Alexis calmed herself. Getting angry at this man would not solve anything, and if his mental voice was anything to go by he was close to apoplexy himself. With an inaudiable huff, she glided in closer to the plow, until she was looking in through the cabin window. She saw a blonde-haired man, and some sort of small, furry non-human. Only one of them had responded - was the other not telepathy-capable?

She tapped on the window, trying to get their attention.

edited 3rd Jan '11 3:05:04 AM by Gaunt88

Milo looked over - and started violently at the horrible face staring at him through the glass. "Gah!"

After a second, the shock passed, and Milo realised that the face belonged to a figure floating along beside the snowplow. The grotesque bug-eyed face was a mask, he realised. I wonder what that's for? This must be the other mage, Danze. She'd said she'd speak to him again.

The figure was was gesturing at the window with gloved hands.

"Open it?" Milo guessed. "I don't know how... um..." After a lot of fumbling, and some impatient waving from the masked figure, he managed to get the window open, kneeling on the seat facing it. A blast of incredibly cold air came in, hitting him square in the face.

"Hello?" he said nervously, squinting into the cold air.

edited 3rd Jan '11 3:39:58 AM by LoniJay

Alexis wasn't practised with reading this particular specie's expressions - in factm she didn't even recognise the species at all - but some things are pretty clear no matter what race. She'd scared the little alien, probably with her high-altitude mask. ''Well, sorry little guy, but until we drop to near-ground level or slow down it's staying on.

"Greetings." She said verbally, her mask amplifying her voice above the slipstream, although it still left it somewhat muffled. "I am Sergeant Danze, AdminFac Special Branch. Which one of you two is Milo Weaver?"

Arthur pointed wordlessly.

So he was in a flying snowplow.

Better than a falling snowplow.

"He's Milo, I'm Arthur. Welcome to the snowplow."

(OOC: A fine piece of minimalist poetry you've written, Dae!)

If the dark of the night doesn't reaffirm Nasci's sinking gut feeling, then the strange glow edging out from the open door does. He might feel it, the faint fuzz of a voice trying to speak her mind. He dismisses it, and yet somehow the voice beckons him to look outside; something, something important is there.

He grunts — the wind chills his cheeks, why hasn't someone bothered closing the door yet? Well, he himself is stuck as much a hostage in the helicopter canopy. There is always the fear these captives will do something behind his back, if he turns away.

But that's why God has given him two eyes.

His left arm rigid, holding the rifle, Nascimento with his other hand slips the black beret out his pockets, and pulls it upon his head for comfort. Then shuffling, inching the seats to the door, Nasci peers an eye out.

Even in his wildest fantasies, he could not have dreamed this fucked-up scenario. A glowing snowplow trails the helicopter's wake (and who's that standing atop with these gleaming eyes?), and there's someone dangling on its side. Oh no. He blinks.

The flying snowplow is still a flying snowplow.

But snowplow or shinjig, Commander Nasci will deal with any following aircraft in much his inquisitive method. He takes the radio from the side, and tunes it to the same channel as the helicopter's loudspeakers (which had so faithfully blared out The Ride of the Valkyries at that one raid wartime).

"Flying snowplow—" Nasci's voice booms out, "what business do you have following Government Operations aircraft? You will give up your pursuit, and consider my words a second thought—"

"Hey..!" Yomiko's voice croaks out from the stretcher. "They're my friends."

"I don't give two shits! It is my goddamn responsibility to bring you home, and I am not going to risk anything getting in my way further!" Nasci shouts back. He's had enough doses of nonsense for the day. Then, continuing his ultimatum to the snowplow, "You will cease following this helicopter, or you will be.. TROUBLE!"

"Please.. leave them be." Yomiko slinks down, her gut shrivelling up. What can she do?

edited 3rd Jan '11 1:39:10 PM by QQQQQ