Phoebe Sheridan

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About Phoebe Sheridan

  • Rank
    Fresh Faced

CHARACTER PROFILE

  • GENDER
    Female
  • PLAY-BY
    Karen Gilian
  • AGE
    26
  • SEXUAL ORIENTATION
    Heterosexual
  • RACE
    Empowered Human
  • JOB
    Scavenger/Traveling Salesperson
  • 'SHIP:
    N/A
  • LOCATION
    New York Outskirts
  • FACTION
    Factionless
  • APPEARANCE
    She stands at an average five feet and four inches tall, with her long and flowing radiant ginger hair cascading behind her head. She is additionally easily recognizable for her pale skin.Her eyes are colored hazel, and her gazes are usually inquisitive or critical in their nature that her wandering eyes alone often irritating the easily irritated. Her body is quite slim, but is quite athletic, and she is in rather stellar shape.

    She wears light and durable clothing, and rarely finds herself the time to change. She prefers neutral colors, often grays, browns, and whites, to signify her lack of involvement with any faction or group, but clothing and appearance have never been a significant factor for her.
  • PERSONALITY
    Phoebe has had the wanderer's itch for years; she can never remain in one place for long. Unknowing if she should attribute this to her personality, upbringing, or simply the manner of the land she lives in, she finds herself drifting from place to place, never staying for more than a month; although she's found her nomadic desires dwindling as of late. To compensate for this specifically, she became a wandering merchant of sorts. This also makes her somewhat indecisive, and when asked to chose between two equally appealing or unappealing options, she would struggle to make a decision. Generally a little careless, she walks down open roads without any worries, finding herself in all kinds of interesting situations with this policy. Even those who put a gun to her head she has sympathy for, and she still struggles to find the will to kill sometimes. Despite this, she never tries to use people; somehow, her empathy for humanity remains intact, perhaps because she treats others the way she'd prefer to be treated. If they are under scrutiny for something she was responsible for, she will make things right, as much as she can. As a wanderer, her words are of little worth to most other people; to that end, she is an introverted and quiet person, having lost most of her desire to talk to others aside from business negotiations. Overall, its not inaccurate to call her a good person, but she is a little modest, and might not approve of such a title. She has immense difficulties opening up to people and sharing her feelings, and has yet to really break down. Deep down, she may really want to settle down and use her talents for the greater good; even she's not sure about it though.
  • PERSONAL BELONGINGS
    As far as armaments go, Phoebe is the proud owner of an AR-15 rifle and a Glock-17 handgun, backed up by a steel hunting knife, with enough ammunition for a single sustained firefight and little more. She additionally carries a canteen, a first aid kit, and a large, worn out hiking bag with a variety of trinkets and jewelry of value but no utility, Also on her back. a tent with a sleeping bag to boot, with some general personal sanitation and toiletries. Other than that, she usually scavenges or bargains for things she needs.
  • SOCIAL AFFILIATIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
    Due to her wandering nature, she only remembers a few people specifically, all of which are, simply put, unusually long-termed acquaintances; however, as society gets more organized, she finds herself drifting to meet others more and more often,.

STAFF APPROVED ABILITIES/SKILLS/HISTORY

  • APPROVED ABILITIES
    While human in all ways, without any usable ability to speak of aside from a rather impressive tolerance to excessive heat( though hot iron and lava are beyond her limits), her notable power is also a seldom used one, and she's only had it happen to her twice. While not able to understand it herself, as she in unconscious for most of its duration, she can be killed, but rather than slump over lifeless, she explodes into red sparks, which quickly collect together to form a spheroid on the ground. After a few hours, she will rise again from the ashes; a phoenix-like ability. However, the 'egg' is highly vulnerable; if destroyed, she dies with it. It will slowly roll into nearby cracks in the ground or bushes to maintain its safety until she returns; despite this movement, she can remember little in between her death and rebirth, a time which takes around two to three hours.
  • APPROVED SKILLS
    Phoebe has incredible tolerance to pain, making torturing her a doomed effort. She is also good at making compromises between two sides, due to her experience bargaining with others. She also became quick at drawing her weapon when needed due to a variety of people who have attempted to rob her, and she's a competent shooter as well. Her other skills are simple wilderness survival techniques, and she has spent almost as many nights in a tent as she has in a proper bed.
  • APPROVED HISTORY
    Phoebe(FEE-bee) Johanna Sheridan was born sixteen years before the events of the Resonance, and has always been a wanderer at heart. At age six, she was bit by a snake in the woods. At age eight, she nearly drowned herself in a creek. At ten, she spent a night in the woods alone. She also became an adept girl scout, and went camping often, enjoying herself in the wilds, while many her age were still frightened by spiders. However, real life knocked on her door, and as schooling took priority, she suffered severely under depression, and finished middle school with abysmal grades and only a few friends. This never seemed to change, and the next few years were terribly dull and lifeless for Phoebe. To cheer her up one day, her kindly grandmother took her out to a jewelry store to get her something nice. However, there was a tremor; she was 16 now, and the effects of the time did not favor them. The very ceiling of the store collapsed; both she, and her beloved grandmother, were killed instantly.

    With any other person, her story would end there; yet something had favored her, and the dust that came from her obliterated form soon reassembled, and she emerged, unharmed, from her slumber, looking at the ruins around her in despair. Always resourceful, however, she was able to loot everything that remained, and afterwards was finally able to take stock. The life she knew and hated was gone, and she was left to her own devices in the new world, learning things from strangers and spending the first year looting any dead she found, arming and equipping herself despite her minimal knowledge of firearms. Using her considerable material wealth, she was able to live through the first years in chaos and uncertainty, until a sniper killed her again.

    As Phoebe again re-entered the world of the living, she was able to make peace with herself. Too long had she neglected others, and more importantly, herself she set off to use the gifts of her seeming invincibility and traded with others, sometimes even bringing needed supplies to remote locations. She has yet to give her allegiance to a specific faction; yet that is more her fault than theirs, as she leaves after any deeds she does, leaving no time to appreciate or curse her name.

Profile Fields

  • Primary
    Maeve
  • All My Characters
    Phoebe Sheridan,
  • Role Play Sample
    (More of a writing sample, but I think it should do the trick)

    A ghostly figure approached, his helm automatically undoing itself, revealing a short mustache which was half-metallic. He set a hand on Xia's shoulder, and she turned, startled by the gesture. "There's no need to go on the flight today. I've taken care of everything, and I have an offer." The man said. Xia recognized him instantly; it was Hans Hermann, an agent for the Lunar Republic, and a famous one. His age had begun to show; he was well into his 50s, but the technology has allowed him to remain nimble and effective even in these years. "What might that be?" Xia asked, her heart stopping a second. "The Universal Union is after the Outworlds. Science vessels sent across the galaxy, after the land... I understand you are not on positive terms with them." As Hans predicted, Xia's eyes flared red.

    1 month earlier....

    "Oh come on, I swear, it's definitely worth your time. You get to see them modify all the animals and have them brought over." The voice was that of Doctor Randall Knight, an excitable older fellow who had grown to be a strong friend of XIa. She rolled her eyes, finally giving in. "The flight's in ten minutes, right? We ought to head aboard." At this time, there was no visible modification to Xia; she was, almost, human in its purest form.
    As the two boarded the ship, it was aimed directly at the small station known for its aptitude in genetic modification. While not terribly well-learned as far as this prized skill of the Lunar people goes, she was nevertheless interested in how the prehistoric creatures in the zoo were created and wanted to see for herself; although in all fairness, her friend's eagerness was most of the reason. These stations outside the capital had to be careful with their location, and often anchored themselves to Luna's surface, putting themselves in between the Earth's deadly A-T-S weapons and themselves. Their vessel would skirt the Moon's surface and land there. As the transport swooped from the launch catapult, red lights suddenly flared. The pilot panicked, hurriedly slamming on the controls; but through the glass all of the passengers saw what was coming directly for them; a colossal missile with an armor-piercing warhead. There were screams as it impacted, and after that there was nothing but silence as a civilian vessel quickly salvaged the ship and the crew.

    The people who had ransacked the destroyed ship were not concerned with the lives of those on board. Lunar ships and their technology were always easy to sell, even the clothes and modifications to their citizens were worth dissecting entire bodies to some desperate captains. It was among a pile of severely wounded that Xia awoke; the right side of her face had been decimated, and she looked dreadful. She breathed in and out calmly, extracting herself from the gory situation and noticing a bloody surgeon's table nearby. She shook with fury. These people had not even checked to see if she lived. Her own severe pain was meaningless now; the only thing she wanted was to murder these hooligans. She took a large precision burner from the arrangements of tools and slammed open the door. She now thought herself fortunate that her 2 years of military service had occurred so recently.
    4 humans in barbaric outfits sat around a communicator, a pile of Lunar technology; some from the insides of her countrymen; was stacked nearby. The only person without a mask had his eyes light up in horror at the sight of the presumed dead person awake. "Whoa, whoa! Keep it easy, we'll... ransom you real cheap. No one would... want someone with that face anyways." He said as he reached for a holstered pistol; yet he was stopped in mid-action suddenly..

    There was no sound.

    Xia thrust the precision burner directly into the man's center, and sliced directly up from his gut to his throat. He fell forwards as she extracted her makeshift weapon; the other three were reaching for her weapons. Yet her senses were sharp, enhanced; the agent modifications had yet to be removed. She took the disembowled man's weapon and shot the farthest two aways' hands. She then took the one closest and savagely broke his arm and slammed him into the metal floor. Then she walked up to the other two, still having said nothing, and gripped them by their masks and slammed their heads into each other, and they slumped to the cold floor.
    She still shook with rage. These were pirates, salvagers, and scum of the galaxy; yet she had better things to do. She went to the cockpit, and radioed the Lunar high command. "This is Agent Xia. Requesting docking permission." She said, and it was then she realized how weakly she spoke. Her wounds claimed her on the trip back; autopilot alone landed her, and she was rushed to an emergency ward.
    It took three days to fully repair her human form; her injuries were so severe, and her left eye was replaced. While on the surface, she retained a human form, truly she was more than a quarter synthetic. On the fourth day, she was released; her friend dead, and herself feeling more machine than man. She attributed these events to one entity; the Universal Union.
    Hans Hermann smiled at her anger. He pitied the youth; he was well over fifty percent synthetic himself, yet the pains of having this change necessary and not desired were not lost on him. Yet he was not here for pity; he was here to weaponize Xia's anger into a captain in the Lunar Star Hunter division, to harass and cripple the Universal Union's ability to conquer the Outworlds without outright war. Xia's expression told him all he needed to know.(edited)
    Later that day, they went to the armory and outfitted her and her ship with the latest in technology. The LSS Talon, as it was named, looked fearsome; In her new uniform, she viewed the vessel with pride. It was armed with dual precision gamma lasers on its wings, and its frontal gun was a ion charger, a smaller version of the gun aboard Wotin's LSS Dame which could disable ships without shield instantly and otherwise obliterate the shield generators. It was incredibly mobile and nimble, requiring little fuel. It was state of the art warship officially under her command. She unsheathed her blade and activated it, viewing the equally terrifying weapon in its entirety; infused with Tiran crystals, it could slice through almost anything; its flat side could knock a raptor unconscious with an electric shock. She then took a moment to verify her wrist laser's functionality; a simple if effective weapon in a pinch, which could wound a target with one shot, and kill with two or three. Her grappling hook was another feature of her wrist, and was ready to fire at any moment.
    Then, her Dimorphodon, Atlas, landed on her outstretched hand. It was no ordinary dinosaur; its teeth were armed with cyber additions, and able to withstand considerable punishment to boot. She stroked its head as she finally marched towards the ship. Hans nodded and left, allowing her to get better acquainted with the technological wonder.
    Her hands slipped onto the controls, the ship responding effortlessly to her every move. She then took off; from her vantage point she viewed the entirety of the moon and its dozen cities, and the planet of those she disliked most; the planet Earth.
    It was then Xia realized that she was missing one thing;
    A crew.
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  1. The Eclectic Charm

    Phoebe's fingers drummed on the glass, finally able to relax a little; it had been a hectic couple of days after all. Her eyes drifted to the musician; it still amazed her that people so mythical were in their midst; probably one of the things she'd never really get used to. Well hey, some excellent background sound was nothing to gawk over. Phoebe snapped back to reality, turning to Brandon with a nod, focusing her attention more. "Steady work, huh? I haven't seen any opportunity like that in a long while...." She paused, thinking about how nice it could be to settle down a little... but that was wishful thinking. "I'm the same way. Got to the city a day ago. Only saw pictures before I came on in." She took another sip, reveling in the rare and exquisite taste; for her, at least, setting the glass down and focusing more on conversation.
  2. The Eclectic Charm

    Her hand slipping onto the glass and gripping it, she took a quick sip; reveling in the drink; definitely not her taste, but quite wonderful nonetheless, especially in comparison to the rainwater she'd been used to.. Setting it down, she turned and acknowledged the man who'd given her the drink. "That's quite lovely, thank you." Then, her focus turned to the man on her right; indeed, his assertion was correct. She didn't really have any form of a permanent home. "I sure do. Not very many places to set your home down for that long..." She glanced at her pack, her first thought being a little worry of thievery, but she shrugged the thought quickly. It wasn't a crowded place yet, and her eyes weren't all too tired anyways. She could really use some drink to quell her jittery nerves.
  3. Enter the Phoenix

    She breathed a sigh of relief, laughing, not only at the fact that she'd unintentionally had a close-call with death, but that, in retrospect, she probably would have made it out alive, even if she had died. How glad she was that this encounter had not resulted in an explosion. She'd never really felt a blast herself; something to put on the bucket list. Oh wait... "Sure thing, Paddy. I'll just sit here and we'll talk about how to steal stuff and detonate gas tanks. The usual, right?" Phoebe smirked and opted to sit with her legs crossed, catching the thrown candy just barely and undoing the wrapper of one of the bar and taking a bite. Nothing quite beat some good chocolate, that was for sure. She extended her injured hand somewhat; she was far from an expert on how to deal with injuries; something to leave to the professionals, she had decided; and it still stung a little. The small tings irritated her more than the big ones at times. Maybe he knew a solution. Despite this, her other hand remained on her rifle, although not in a position to fire. Some trust had been achieved, which is always a good sign. After swallowing, she continued. "Well, thanks. I've had this rifle as long as I know. Its pretty good at making things on the opposite end stop moving." Eh, a bit of an exaggeration, she'd never really found the need to take another person's life, but its basically the truth. "Anything you can do for the hand?" It had just been poked a bit by some glass, so she didn't assume it was anything severe. Just a little painful scratch she'd need to get taken care of before she began the last of her trek. to the big city. "I just want to get there before night, that's all." She hated night travel, and reasoned that camping by the edge of a fairly populated area would be far from ideal for her... and hey, she might have someone to make the trip with after all.
  4. The Eclectic Charm

    Through the streets, Phoebe noticed the name of the establishment she was walking into... with that kind of name it surely must have been a bar. While not a heavy drinker by any means, more due to her frugal lifestyle than by choice, she was far from too prude to indulge in some good old drinking. It seemed a fairly laid-back place anyhow, and that was the way she preferred things. Plenty of chaos as soon as she stepped out of the city if she wanted that... Slowly emerging from the entrance, Phoebe looked around the room with a fair bit of caution, having been far from civilization for quite some time. Newly introduced to the city, she didn't quite know what to think; whether it was a little lawless, or more ordered. Too late now; she reasoned. Still looking around, she shrugged her nervousness off and approached the bar.. She brushed her hair from her face, her vision no longer obscured. She viewed the surroundings; it seemed that there was a jovial atmosphere, even if it was rather lacking in patrons. Maybe she would find herself able to finally relax and find some sort of common ground with some strangers... Silently she made her way to sit down, lowering her things to the ground gently and pointing to her fellow bar-goer. "I'll have whatever he's having," She managed to convey. a smile to the man behind the counter. Sure, going out for drinks may have been a rash decision, and she might regret it, but she could sure use a breath after the recent events. Naturally, the best way to forget one's problems was simply to get some alcohol, right?
  5. Enter the Phoenix

    Phoebe didn't know what to think. He seemed incredibly possessive of his bike, but otherwise a little aloof. Well, there wasn't any sense in agitating him any further, she was a little worried and it seemed that he wasn't lying. Or he was just really good at bluffing. "Do I look like someone that knows how gasoline, let alone motorized vehicles, function or in what circumstances they explode?" A factual statement said in earnest. Phoebe couldn't say for certain if she was just modest or really trying to get the point across. "I don't think I've accidentally hit, armed, or triggered anything, and if I have, I'm not aware of it." It was an honest truth; something that she was used to giving to others, but she remained a little perplexed. She stepped off and gained some distance between her and the vehicle. With her rifle in hand, she eyed him warily as she stepped back, increasing her distance. There didn't seem to be much reason with sticking around; she might have escalated things far beyond what she'd initially desired due to her rash decision making. "I"ll just.... go?" No, she wasn't normally a person who would mess with a passerby and disappear, but she was on a bit of a deadline, wanting to get into the city and all... and being threatened, or yelled at, or accused of potentially detonating a motorcycle was generally a red flag to begin with, right? Phoebe was as indecisive as ever. With her hands tightening around her gun, she audibly hissed as her little injury from before again stung. She shook the hand nonchalantly as she could, realizing that she wasn't in a real fighting position. Hopefully the guy didn't take her little escapade to personally and try to do something while her back is turned. With a nervous exhale, she made her first steps in the opposite direction. No use in inflaming an already tense situation, right? She turned back. "I'm Phoebe, by the way. Phoebe Sheridan." Not without an exchange of names, of course...
  6. Enter the Phoenix

    She yawned and reclined in the seat after a quick stretch, taking a little too much pleasure in her daring and fairly suicidal move. Not that she was too terrified of dying. Just a little scared, at this point. She didn't even bother to look at him as he talked from her close position, instead poking around and looking for a method of starting the vehicle; but, as she quickly realized, this was a doomed effort. The guy was quite a bit smarter than he looked, not that that meant much. Underestimating people? That's new... "I've got a little bit of candy myself... and feet too. But thanks for the offer." Deciding that starting a standoff with this stranger over a vehicle that she was unable to use was a little impractical, she stood and raised herself up; but not completely, as she instead sat with both her legs crossed on one side. "And hey, if you do try to shoot me, you might hurt the bike. Especially with all the gas..." A fairly obvious statement, but hey, she liked hearing herself talk. Especially as he disappeared from her sight. Phoebe was a little conflicted; she doubted the guy had it in him to gun her down. But she'd been wrong before. Looking over her rifle, she shrugged, realizing that she shouldn't be spending her time taunting people. "Your stuff is safe with me.. Got all I need in my bag." Another unhelpful statement. She should really consider saving her breath. Her hand stung; she looked it over and realized that what she assumed was a minor cut was a bit deeper than she'd imagined. She whimpered a little; nothing could get her used to the site of injury, especially when she was the recipient. She looked to and fro before considering a full skedaddle right there. He'd catch up to her though; their destination seemed to be the same, and she still new so little about him or his whereabouts; what was his name, anyways? "I ought to mosey along. I don't want to scare you any more with my witch-like charms, that's all..."
  7. Enter the Phoenix

    Facial expressions normally came quite easy to Phoebe, but she was a little lost for how to react. Something about the good-nature of this stranger was a little... off to her. Was it the lying about his guns being unloaded? Was it the nonchalant attitude he had when kindly asking her not to open fire? She walked forward to watch him out of the corner of her eye, seeing him go behind the back, allegedly for water, but she doubted it. "Hard for people to take advantage of folks who are armed... but maybe I do indulge in a little head-exploding and skin-wearing in my spare time. You never know." She paused. "I'm not lying about going to the city, if that means anything." Phoebe then glanced at the unoccupied bike, before turning back to keep her eyes on the man while he went around; but her wandering eyes swiftly drifted back to the motorcycle. She eyed it a long while; surely there was no way he'd leave the keys with it? She calmly walked up to it, looking it over, setting both her palms on the handlebars. It would be really dirty if she were to just take off... but walking all the way was going to really wear her out. "Nice bike." While no expert on vehicles by any means, she knew that you sit on these and they moved places. That's about it, really. So she took that step; daring to lower one leg on the other side and attempt to sit in his very prized motorcycle, looking at him for her next inquiry, her backpack, weapons, and recently scavenged resources strapped to her back as she gave him a cheeky grin. Her pale, seemingly sun-immune face looked at him. "How fast will it take me to New York?"
  8. Enter the Phoenix

    Phoebe narrowed her eyes; a little overwhelmed by how casually he reacted to having a gun leveled at his head. She wondered if she just didn't look threatening enough. Maybe a skull mask? Ooh, a bloodstained gun seems like it might do the trick. As she thought about it, she lowered her left hand to rest on the bottom of the shattered window. Ow. Shattered window, broken glass... right. She recoiled her hand upwards, realizing that this was definitely not helping her look intimidating. Her eyes showed minimal evidence of her carelessness as she looked him curiously in an attempt to draw attention off of her hand which she kept out of view behind her back. "You carry unloaded guns on long-distance errands?" Phoebe shook her head, a little doubtful. There was no way you could get away with an unloaded gun. Or were the bandit folk that were usually around really dying off? "Doesn't seem too 'badass 'to me." She smirked as she spoke then, loosening her grip on her rifle and letting it hang on its strap. Clearly, with an unloaded gun and some humor, this person couldn't possibly harbor any hostile intentions. Just a passerby looking for some free fuel. As he reached to complete the fill-up, her hands remained in close proximity to her weapons, but still not quite on them. She may be trying to look tough, but she wasn't just going to start shooting like a complete psychopath.... "What? Waiting for a Boyfri-" She stopped herself, exhaling as a sign of acknowledging his humor, but the information was a little more important to her. than some teasing. "I'm all alone out here. Looking to head to New York, actually. On foot."
  9. Enter the Phoenix

    Phoebe watched him like a hawk; yet her hostility seemed a bit unfounded, as the story made sense; a lone wanderer getting his daily dose of gasoline for his vehicle. The broken glass under her shoes cracked audibly as she rose to her feet, and she just now realized how close her hands were to being cut; too close, for that matter. She shook off the distraction and lowered her rifle, but maintained her grip on it. Just in case, of course. "Where are you from? New York? What group?" Phoebe asked, her unblinking eyes staring forward, waiting for the man to draw a weapon. She was always against being the first to fire. Call her too cautious, but she'd been shot and stabbed at enough times to lose most of her trust in strangers. Not that she was familiar with anyone or anything about New York itself, she was just capable of making assumptions, and given their location, it was a plausible guess. Even if she was getting right to the point and probably seemed more than a little crazy with her demands to know where this person was from. Yet this information was for her own safety, she told herself. Not that she was good at being self-reassuring. Or talking to strangers, now that she thought of it. She decided after such deliberation that she'd instead holster her gun on her shoulder. She'd decided that yes, the risk of being shot in return was marginally better than looking like a scruffy bandit out for blood.
  10. Enter the Phoenix

    Phoebe was a little hungry; not an uncommon thing to suffer from, and she planned on sating it soon. She was at a gas station; not too far from New York, but not too close either. A little exhausted, as she had gotten up early that day due to some loud noise, and she decided not to stick around; her own safety was quite important. She was able to locate a gas station; naturally, a retail store in poor condition was right nearby. She entered, seeing that the door had been torn from its hinges, and what appeared to be claw marks were all at the outside; she could only wonder what had happened here. Focus, focus! She had to shake it off, and she went over, seeing considerable damage but otherwise it appeared that there were some non-perishables left behind, and she ate a few as she prepared to leave and look elsewhere, with no plans of being idle Yet she heard something closing in; it was an engine of some land vehicle. Phoebe couldn't quite decipher what kind by sound alone, so she undid her rifle from its strap on her shoulder, and lowered herself to one knee, peeking out from the area behind the destroyed window, seeking some vision on the owner of the vehicle, and other information which could help her deduce a better approach; violence probably wouldn't be necessary, but some people insisted these days, and she wasn't going to just lay down and die. Yet maybe she was overreacting and this was another common scavenger like her. Either way, she wasn't really in a dying mood today...