The Clockwork Masquerade

The Cast List of Clockwork Masquerade

Name: Alender Hart
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Race: Mistborn
Weapon: A clockwork sword
Power: He can make his body insubstantial and/or invisible
Job: Spy Hunter
Bio: His people have always been hunters. Maybe not of people, exactly, but the unique talents and the tracking skills of the Mistborn made them both feared and sought after. They were supposed to be some of the best spies...and in contrast, spy hunters. To be such a double-edged sword was dangerous, no member of their clans wanted the possibility of hunting their own brethren. So they swore amongst themselves to keep track of which jobs others took so that they could refuse ones that would put them in a conflict of interests. It worked well, for awhile, until some noble they had underestimated decided he didn't want to take no for an answer. If they had not been in the midst of celebrating the turn of the season, perhaps they would not have been caught so unawares. Still, it was a deceitful and treacherous magic that silenced their sentries and allowed the soldiers into their fortress. They slaughtered everyone inside, man, woman and child. Only those on jobs at the time of the celebration were spared. A proud clan had been reduced to a mere handful of survivors. Alender was returning home when he got the news. They all knew about the deal that had gone south and in a a few weeks he had all the proof he needed. He took care of situation like any other job, never letting anyone see how much the loss affected him. But since then he has become convinced that no one is to be trusted. One of their own let the invaders into the fortress, one of their employers turned a hand against them. So he would take their money and keep their secrets until someone offers him a better price.
Appearance:

Name: Cari Snyder
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: human
Weapon: Pistols and the odd tool she picks up mostly, but she appreciates a good blade like any other girl.
Power: Luck, things of chance usually go her way, including but not limited to decisions, card games and dangerous situations.
Job: Messenger/Inventor
Bio: Cari is one of the glorified mailmen, er women of the city Itarri. Perhaps the only reason she does the job is because she gets to ride the Airtrains for free and use a set of mechanical wings when flying within city limits. The sky offers freedom for awhile, freedom from her caste, her job, her family's expectations for their sole successful daughter. She doesn't mind that she needs machines to do it, or that her job is potentially dangerous. Sometimes, just for fun she reads the mail before she delivers it, resealing envelopes, along with loc k-picking and inventing odd machines without a recognizable purpose are among some of her favorite things to do. Her family, of course, dislikes these habits, worried about her reputation. If she was ever caught reading the mail she'd be fired at the very least. But having dirt on some of the upper families isn't such a bad thing, and Lady Luck always seems to be on her side.
Appearance:

Name: Jasmine Archer
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Weapon: Blades and Guns of any sort
Power: Quick Mastery: she only has to be shown how to do something once, assuming she doesn't figure it out on her own.
Job: Hired Guard
Bio: That appearances are deceiving is a lesson Jasmine has been teaching the other guards since the day she was first hired. One, she is young which apparently makes her stupid and two she is female which apparently makes her incompetent. She took a certain vicious satisfaction in teaching them otherwise. Part of her wonders why she's still working for the patronizing bastard that calls himself a New Money Upper caste, which was just a fancy way of saying he wants to be aristocratic but hasn't got the blood for it. It's probably the pay because God only knows the company and the work are beneath her. It was hard enough to get her way into an upper caste house at all, let alone to be picky about which one she worked for. And she has to have a job to pay for her sister's medical bills. Sabine is all the family she has left. So no matter how many fingers she has to fight, or maybe cut, off, how many sneers she has to take, its all worth it if it means food on the table, a roof over her head and medicine for Sabine.
Appearance:

Name: Nathaniel Eversson
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Werebeast
Weapon: Poleaxe/ long handled weapons, poison and knives out of necessity
Power: Shifting into a wolf at will, though his control is always a little tenuous during certain phases of the moon
Job: Spy
Bio: His job requires him to be flexible, unobtrusive, his blood wants him to be dominant, stubborn and aggressive. How he managed to find a balance between the two was a miracle in and of itself. Nathaniel is a little bit different from the rest of his pack, for one he is the sole gray wolf among a crowd of brown and black. Then he developed control over his beast sooner and better than his litter-mates. More than a little isolated from the usual social connections of his pack he started drifting, going home less and less often until one day he found himself in a city far from the place he was born. Natural stealth and a disinclination to talk to anyone landed him his first job as a bodyguard of sorts, where he was trained with a wide variety of weapons. But when ordered to kill a man who could not pay his debt to the one he worked for, Nathaniel simply walked out. Those that tried to stop him could not, simple as that. It wasn't until he'd holed up in an alley, shaking and confused by the the sudden hole in his memory, did he realize that there was the taste of blood in his mouth. He wasn't sure how the people he now works for found him, or if anyone knows what happened to the first. He certainly doesn't, though by now he figured the beast must have taken over as a manner of self-defense. He just hopes it never happens again.
Appearance:

Name: Tristyn Steel
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: human
Weapon: a lighter, matched pistols
Power: Pyrokinesis
Job: Explosives expert/Firefighter
Bio: All things considered, it's probably lucky that the judge decided to let him work off his sentence instead of sitting in a jail cell for awhile. He wouldn't even have minded the opportunity to see how long it took for a jail cell door to melt. But no, he's stuck on a do gooder force of firemen, who know exactly what he's there for, and consequently treat him like...like...well, a criminal. They make him stay in the truck when they go to fight the fires, man the ladders and all the stupid boring stuff. As if something like being a few hundred feet from the burning building would make a difference. He could make it get too hot, make it melt through their protective suits and burn through the support timbers to bring the whole structure crashing down on their heads. But he won't. They might think he's a criminal, but he's not a killer. It bothers him, after all it was only one factory, and the damn thing wasn't even busy at the time. It was coming down anyway. Yeah...the judge didn't like that so much. Resources and time and some such. This city, it has rules for everything, it grates more than a little. He works with fire, for chrissake and everyone with half a brain knows that it doesn't belong in a little glass tube, harnessed to melt things down and to light homes. It's an insult to the element, really. The way he sees it, sometimes people deserved to be reminded what happens when they play with fire.
Appearance:

Name: Karina Nevskaya
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Weapon: Razor chains disguised as jewelry, poisoned needles disguised as hairpins and a small assortment of knives.
Power: Transmutation of substances, how it is not permanent and the more complex something is, the more it exhausts her to change it.
Job: Spy
Bio: Her parents were immigrants from the world below, saving up just enough to get them a ticket away from the crowded and exhausted continents to a city in the sky and establish themselves as the owners of a tiny shop in the lower section. Karina was little then, and the city life was all she knew. She didn't mind it, she was a pretty girl, good in school and her parents loved her. When she turned fifteen, however, they inexplicably vanished, the shop that she had lived above all her life completely ruined. With no where else to go, she started working at whatever job she could get, one of which was as an apprentice at a red light house. It was here they found her. Her first 'customer' told her they needed her for a different reason entirely and had already paid the Madame for her. She left without reservations. The house taught her to wear a mask, to not let anyone see anything beyond what they wanted to. Spying was very much the same except she wasn't expected to spread her legs. It was just one big play, simply trading one mask for another.
Appearance:

Name: Gwendolyn Stauben
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Weapon: Information and charm
Power: People just tend to drop their guard around her. Whether its because there's something abnormal going on there, or if she's just that adorable, it's hard to say, but whatever it is, it makes her life easier.
Job: Illegal engineer and trafficker
Bio: There are certain people within the government who are open with their belief that individuals who work in the trafficking of unsanctioned machinery are immoral and deserve harsh punishment. They've never been called outright evil, but the insinuation is there. And terms like 'thief' and 'grease rat' are uncommon.
But Gwendolyn designs her own merchandise and bathes regularly, thank you very much. She's not ripping anyone off, she's not hurting anyone, she's just practicing her right to explore the possibilities of mechanics and accepting reward.
Having money is unusual for her, having grown up poor. So even though she's built up more than enough money to transcend her caste, she's quite comfortable continuing in a lifestyle that she has grown accustomed to.
Maybe that will change one day. She's still young, after all, and even she will admit that she's got some growing up to do.
Appearance:

Name: Phineus Twick
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Weapon: Why have something like that when you have no need to defend yourself?
Power: He just understands how things worth. There is not a machine in this world that he can't coerce back into life.
People, though? He's clueless
Job: Mechanic
Bio: Luck placed Phineus into one of the higher castes of society. Irony left him entirely uninterested in the life that afforded him. To put it quite frankly, people scared him. He could never get a handle on them like he could with machines, turning them into a vast stretch of unknown. No one likes the unknown. So he sequestered himself, choosing to tinker with cogs and gears rather than delve into the threatening world of human conversation.
And so he grew up just a little odd, his self-enforced seclusion fanned by the fact that he did not have the fortune to be ugly, and was forced to contend with the idle fancies of women who liked what they saw. They even thought that his desperation to be alone was endearing. It was only leaving behind his family and willingly joining the ranks of the lower castes that he has managed to get away from unwanted attention. He still wears the crest of his family, after all. And those he has elected to live amongst sneer at him, convinced that his is mocking them.
That doesn't stop them from coming to him for help with this bit of broken machinery or that, thought.
Appearance:

Name: Kyr Phin
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Weapon: Pistols and a stun gun, though potentially anything in his shop could be used.
Power: He can sense the natures of objects and can often tell where the owner is by looking at something of theirs. He also has a great talent for remembering things, from seemingly insignificant details to faces and names.
Job: Clockwright
Bio: Perhaps he's always known there's something wrong with him. After all, no normal child would be so obsessed with order, with making sure things run smoothly. But order, especially the complex structure of the insides of clocks working totally in unison, soothes some wilder part of him. Watching the gears click and turn chains the part that wants to scream and throw things and chase everyone else away. People are the great creators of disorder, they ruin things, they break their clocks and bring them to him so he can fix the scattered pieces, put the ruined metal back together. There are days when he'll be so wrapped up in fixing a clock, he'll forget to eat. If he's careful, he can even keep them from talking to him, Kyr hates it when they do that. Not the voices of the clocks themselves, oh no, its getting to know the people that brought them to him. He doesn't want to know them, but when the clock speaks, there they are, stuck inside him forever. One day, he supposes it might be too much. He might just crack so that all those faces and names can just go rushing out and leave him in peace again. The exception is Gwendolyn. He doesn't mind her voice so much, she brings him things to put in the clocks to ship out of the city. What she brings makes them quiet, lets him put someone else's voice in there too, helps him make room inside his head for the next one that will inevitably sneak in. They're always waiting to surprise him, even when he tells them to go away. They are disturbing his order.
Appearance:

Name: Linette Reel
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Starborn
Weapon: Two blades crafted to fit her hands and her hands only. They forcibly reject anyone else who tries to use them, sapping their strength to be given back to their rightful owner later
Power: Her body can revert into light or shadow
Job: Freelance tracker, currently employed as a spy hunter
Bio: Much like their cousins the Mistborn, the Starborn have been hunters of information of flesh for as long as they have been distinguished from all other people. Much like their cousins, they took measures to avoid hunting each other. Much like their cousins, they were betrayed.
Linette remembers little of the slaughter, having been ill at the time and beset with fever. She can recall sounds of struggle, sounds of death. Curses mixed with the cracking of bones. She remembers wanting to help, unable to do more than lift her head. She remembers a blade at her throat, and a guttural command for cooperation. She remembers spitting in a stranger's face, hot, stinging pain in a line across her throat.
She does not remember what happened next. Only that she found herself later huddled in the corner of an old human crone's home, bandaging around her neck concealing the wound that would become a vicious scar to hide the rest of her life.
There was a time when she ran the risk of losing herself to darkness, walking the razor's edge of hatred. But she managed to pull herself out of that, caught by the memory of her family, of her people. And so she took that anger and turned it into a rigid sense of justice.
Now a freelance tracker despite her youth, she frequently has to overcome the misgivings around hiring her, the misconceptions that she is still a child.
No one she has ever caught has made the mistake of thinking that way again.
Apperance:

Name: Meredith Lyss
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Weapon: If she believed in violence, she wouldn't very well be studying medicine, now would she?
Power: Not a one.
Job: Medical student
Bio: Meredth should have died when she was born. She was preature, her lungs still developing. If not for a recent breakthrough in medical science at the time, she would not have lived for even a week. The bulk of the machinery affixed to her torso is glorified armor, protection for the four much smaller, much more delicate devices attached to her chest and back that keep her lungs working.
Given that she very literally owes her life to medicine, she has been fascinated by it for as long as she has been able to comprehend the significance of it. So it wasn't even something she needed to think about when the time came for her to choose what she was going to do with her life, given the wide array of possibilities available to her as a member of the highest caste. She has dedicated herself to medicine and engineering, working to perfect the technology that has been growing since her own birth.
Most of her intentions are purely selfless. But she would be a liar to say that there wasn't some part of her that hoped to discover a way to make her bulky metal chassis unnecessary. It tends to frighten away men once they realize that it isn't a fashion statement, and she's getting lonely.
Appearance:

Name: Robert Khaust/Pyrrhus Crast
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Weapon: Dueling rapier/Nightstick
Power: He can glean surface thoughts from others with a touch/Repression of abilities and thoughts in others
Job: Spy/Trafficker
Bio: Despite sharing a body, Robert and Pyrrhus have no idea each other exist. Which, given their respective choices in career, is probably a good thing. Though they are both a bit concerned about their inexplicable blackouts. Robert, for one, is worried that one of these days, whatever goes on in those spans he can't remember is going to give him away, that the woman he's been assigned to, posing as her fiance, will find out while he's just as interested in illegal mechanics as she is, it's for a wholly different reason. And he's worried that he'll miss a meeting with his contact, 87, or somehow compromise their anonymity.
Pyrrhus, on the other hand, is terrified that he'll slip out while he happens to be working with something particularly explosive, or in the middle of a deal. Death is really very much the last thing he wants, and the death of his career is second on the list of 'things to avoid'. It's a tricky situation, to say the least.
Appearance:

Name: Warren Skrill
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Weapon: Anything small that he can conceal - blades, poison darts, that sort of thing.
Power: He can read emotions in others
Job: Spy
Bio: Warren started off his life with options. So many options, options that came with wealth and status. He had dreams of pursuing the humanities, fueled by his understanding of human emotion. He was going to be a philosopher, a poet, he was going to speak to the hearts of people through his words.
But his father's greed got in the way. His gambling ruined their family, and for all that they still belong to the upper caste in name, the Skrills no longer enjoy any of the privileges that they were so used to. He was 16 when they lost everything, 18 when he became a spy.
It was the only route he could think of to get money without sacrificing his morals.
And he's surprisingly good at it, infiltrating the homes of those suspected of being involved in the illegal trafficking rings and posing as a serving boy. No one pays much attention to him there, and he is able to learn so much just by listening.
Apperance:

Name: Victoria Greene
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Weapon: Razor wire
Power: Air manipulation
Job: Spy
Bio: For most, being small for your age is a minor inconvenience, at worst a persisting annoyance. For those living on the polution-wasted surface, born into a caste so low those above ignore their existance altogether, it is with few exceptions a death sentence. The small and the weak are a liability when every day is a struggle to survive, fighting for supplies against others who might take them first and the poison that found its way in this amount or that into everything. Few live past thirty. Many children born at 'normal' sizes don't live to see five. A baby as tiny as Victoria would typically be abandoned, survival trumping parental instinct.
But she, unlike most, was not a liability. Straight out of the womb, her gift made itself known in little ways. The air around her was cleaner, less thick with noxious gas. The wind would shift seemingly at random whenever the wild dogs that prowled the surface came near, carrying her scent and that of those near her away. Her parents and two older brothers didn't know exactly what was going on, but they knew that it was good. And they knew that it was because of her.
So they kept her. Defended her fiercely and sacrificed enough of their own nourishment to make sure she would survive in exchange for improved health, freed now from the persistent cough that plagued all of the groundwalkers. But they never gave her enough to make her strong, to make up for her initial disadvantage of size.
She was thirteen when she realized she was a tool, not a daughter, not a sister. After years of twisting her ability, using it to frighten and hurt others, throwing the competition's scent to the dogs or taking away their breath, for her family, she figured it out. After learning how to hide her passage, how to steal with a well-timed gust, how to carry words from great distances and using information to her advantage, she listened to the niggling voice inside her head.
Not the one that told her that what she was doing was wrong. That one had been stamped out quickly, if it had ever existed as well. But the one that said it wasn't right. Wasn't right for her. Why should she be given the same amount or even less than the others when she was the one carrying them? Why should she remain small and weak while the others grew stronger with her help?
If there was one thing she learned from watching them, it was that the successful took care of themselves before even their own families.
So she did. She listened, learned about a trasport up to the city in the sky. She learned enough about the officials overseeing it to extort her way in. She left her family to choke on the toxins they had lost resistance to and moved upward, to create a better life for herself.
A better life built on extortion and the trade of secrets, and the occasional theft.
You never really leave your past behind, after all.
Appearance: