Ghostsingers
10:38 PM - Mercy, FemPyro: Okay, imagine an Astartes, in white with pale gold trim, a cloak behind him in the same, the gold in swirling embroidery. The lenses of his helm glow a pale yellow, and he wields a golden double sided guan dao. He looks normal, but something's off about him... And then, if you focus really hard on him, you can just pick out the shimmers in the air around him; a pale gray blade here, the outline of a pauldron, a see-through image of an armoured arm there, steps kicking up occasional snow or dust or whatever behind him but no other footprints but his own. Psykers would see the other signatures almost twined around his own, coming and going and fading in and out of existence as easily as he breathed. And then in battle, his voice rises in powerful song and the signatures solidify and become visible, Astartes and others, nothing more than spectres, drawing their weapons and by his side until his need - or the song - ends. Unable to take damage, yet take hits, appear perhaps completely normal for a few seconds before dissolving back into armed wisps of what once was, spirits feeling a Ghostsinger's call.
10:46 PM - Mercy, FemPyro: "I am a keeper of the lost souls and angry spirits, of the confused ghost and the vengeful spectre, from the most powerful of beings to the lowliest of civilians. They seeks their ways home, out of the never-ending haze of the in-between, and I give them their peace. In return, they give me their blades, and to cross me is to come against a tide of untouchable blade, unseeable flame, and unreachable enemy. I am a Ghostsinger, and I would suggest you chose your next words, very, very carefully."
