Gen-Wyld: Beyond Natural

When the band made by the above ritual is worn, it occasionally (every 4 hours or so) briefly flashes a translucent outline of its wielder’s body at peak condition (this is their “elemental”, the shell or outline of their soul), and the wielder is able to focus as if they themselves were at peak condition.

The more stress Tatalov has, the more the color of his flames change, as his anger begins fueling his determination to succeed. Pushing him to keep going even in the face of extreme mental and physical stress

Doctor Lazcowicz appears to shrug off injury and mental anguish alike. Though wounds still mount and strain still builds, an almost fugue state prevents him from noticing, for good or ill.

Remus lay unresponsive on the floor; enshrouded in a cloud of psychoactive gas, his trusty oversized cross laying besides him as always. In spite of his condition, some semblance of a sentence managed to slur its way out of his unconscious lips.

"...Goddamnit, gotta get back to the fuggin' job-"

Still fully unconscious, one hand reached over in a slow and practised movement that had by now reached some sort of muscle memory: hefting up the large cross and slapping himself harshly across the side of the face with the enormous thing.
Bringing him back to the land of the living.

Death is but a heartbeat away. It would love to claim you.
You can't escape that easily, Jacob.
Christ himself was nailed to the cross. He was left hanging there for days. He was speared. He died.
And yet, he fulfilled his duty.
Nothing short of death will relieve you of yours.
You will finish what you started.
And you will only die when we let you, Jacob.

The mobster's been through tougher scrapes than this. A few cuts and bruises won't stop them.