Joran Davrell's Story

Joran Davrell walked into the bar, a warm smile evident in his cheery face. The bar was a bit more lively then usual today. And when the bar was busy... that usually meant there was going to be a fight.

By the looks of it, one had already started. Joran noticed a small group of children, some of them sprawled out on the floor, some of them cowering behind cowers. Ah... poor kids.

'Be still, children,' Joran reached out with his mind, speaking to all of them[/b[ including Rihan [b]telepathically, 'there is no problem here we can't solve by talking peacefully.'

"Do not be alarmed," Joran walked slowly to the center of the bar, speaking aloud now, "I communicated with you through your minds. I am a telepath." Joran spoke slowly and calmly to them. They were children after all.

Straightening the cuffs on his suit, he looked first to Monica and Ivan, offering them a cheery salute before looking over at the cowering Abbie, beckoning her to come out of hiding. Lastly, his eyes found Rihan's. Clearly there was something much colder about these eyes then the rest... this was no child.

"I apologize for speaking to you with my mind," Joran continued, his voice articulate and impossibly audible, "I'm glad to see you've already resolved the matter. Perhaps there is something I can do to help?" After all, Joran would hate to make an arrest today. Especially on such younglings... it just wouldn't be fair.

Joran Davrell 's eyes flickered sharply to Rihan's once more. "I'm 'awfully eager' to keep things in this bar peaceful and orderly," Joran explained, a bit more authority and maturity evident in his voice, "...hitting people on the heads with swords, as you just did, does not promote a peaceful bar environment."

Joran fished into his suit jacket, briefly removing his National Police Agency badge, flashing it once for all to see. "I not only desire to keep things lawful, but I am duty-bound by my work, as well," Joran explained carefully, briefly detecting Ichiro's presence not far behind him. Once again, the dark, colder aura of this man's mind was evident to the old telepath. Hopefully there wouldn't be anymore trouble.

Joran cocked his head to one side, a challenging grin spreading across his face. "...how about this?"

With that, Joran suddenly released a massive telepathic blast, letting lose a hurricane of psionic energies towards Rihan. Chunks of wood from where the man was sitting splintered off the bar. Bottles of alcohol shattered where they stood, the liquid splaying into a furious mist. The stool from beneath Rihan flew into the counter, sticking into the surface like a quivering arrow in a target. Rihan himself might even be send flying back against the sheer power of the unbearable attack, easily strong enough to lift a school bus and send it a good fifty yards.

Joran Davrell raised an eyebrow, "Ah...a superioris..." Joran nodded, the glimmer of appreciation, perhaps even admiration evident in his voice, "that's a neat trick you've got there."

The former professor walked slowly up to the bar, channeling his psychic energies once again as he set to work repairing the damage he had done. Chunks of wood formerly soaring across the bar now floated peacefull back into their respective positions, the creases between them molding together as the wood fused again into one. The various liquids on the grounds seperated themselves, beer from whiskey from wine, returning to their now reconstructed bodies. Everything was made right.

"Please understand..." Joran continued, "I was trying to scare you with that little show. I see it had no affect on you whatsoever, and for that I am impressed." The agent crossed his arms over his chest, his mind running through the bar contents in search of some tea. "I'm not familiar with your race... what are you exactly?" His mind once again found Itachi's presence, cold and firm. Joran had not meant to get anyone else caught up in his blast. He would have to be more careful. He did, however, notice the incredible speed at which Itachi had dodged his attack. Perhaps this one was a superhuman too?

Joran perked up immediately at the mention of 'Yokai'. Ah, now he understood. Finding a kettle of tea somewhere in the bar, Joran quickly sent both the kettle and a cup floating his way. He could use a good drink... though he didn't care much for liquor.

"Ah... a Japanese supernatural, if I'm not mistaken," Joran nodded, "some are shape-shifters, I believe... favoring the forms of animals or winged creatures. Others are demons, coming in the likeness of Oni; hideous ogres and monsters." Joran nodded as the tea cup landed on the counter just before him, the kettle close behind.

"You, my friend, neither look like an animal nor a hideous monster," Joran joked, a warm smile in his face, "so I must only assume that you are among those rarer Yokai who come in the form of humans." Once the tea was poured, Joran quickly poved the cup to his lips, taking a satisfied drink. "Delightful," he affirmed. Whether he was reffering to Rihan's condition or the tea itself was uncertain. Perhaps both.

His eyes shifted momentarily as he noticed Abbie, now in horse form. "Ah... another shapeshifter? And she still possesses the palatal muscles necessary for common speech, even in animal form! Extraordinary!" His gaze moved once again as he noticed Siana, preforming a quick surface mind-pass over the undine. Clearly this beautiful woman was more then she appeared. Perhaps he could talk to her later.

"Gambit's seems to be a marvelous place for meeting superhumans..." Joran remarked as he again addressed Rihan. "Tell me, were you transformed into a Yokai as some are, or born this way?"

Joran Davrell reclined against the bar, his smoking cup of tea still in his hands, "Ah... the classic 'monster-falls-for-human' story? How romantic. I think a writer in recent years made some good money ripping off that age-old tradition. I can't distinctly remember the name, but it was a god-awful book series. Totally incompatible with the science behind vampirism..." Another quick swig of tea.

"But I digress. Your abilities, sir, are nothing short of extraordinary. Might I ask for your name?" Joran inquired, extending a hand to the Yokai, "I am Director Joran Davrell."

Joran Davrell walked into the bar, a warm smile evident in his cheery face. The bar was a bit more chatty then usual today, and the elderly professor's lively eyes quickly flickered between a host of patrons, instantly noticing Lexi Holton and Mohotmas, a suspicious frown coming over him. On guard, the telepath quickly preformed a quick, surface mind-probe over both of the individuals, instantly recognizing Lexi's drugged condition. His scan over Mohatmas instantly made her identity vaugely clear: she wasn't human. And yet, human or no, she was probably breaking the law.

How typical of Gambit's.

'Put her down, spirit,' Joran spoke to Mohatmas directly from his mind, the booming tone of his authoritative psyche resounding throughout the Dream Spirit's consciousness, 'she is innocent. Leave her be or suffer the consequences.'

Joran Davrell stepped closer, his jaw grit... a fiercely professional and determined glint in his eyes. There was no lack of resolve in his psychic commands, not even the slightest quiver of hesitation. Mohatmas' words from Lexi's body had no affect on the NPA Agent. A powerful telepath, the Dream Spirit and the Eternal's mental beings were as different as red and blue to the psionic. And that sure as hell wasn't Lexi's consciousness in that body.

'DOWN.' The voice roared in a monstrous, horrifying tone, the sheer power and noise of which incited reverberating psychic pain as Joran attempted to riddle Mohatmas' being with excruciating telepathic energies. 'DEPART! OR I SHALL RIP YOU FROM THIS HUSK LIKE A LEECH FROM AN OPEN WOUND.' Of course, Joran knew what he was going up against. Supernatural spirits were extremely dangerous. However, from his extensive studies, Joran found that entities such as this often lost some of their power after confining it to a mortal body as Mohatmas had just done.

Weak or no, Joran was prepared, his mental-will seemingly indomitable. His mental voice turned to Lexi's floating spirit, speaking soothingly to the terrified girl. 'Be calm, child.' He "spoke" articulately. 'And the moment IT is gone, return to your body.'

Joran Davrell leaned against a far corner of the bar, perhaps not noticed until now. The wizened professor had been quite occupied finishing a steaming cup of delicious tea, finishing the glass' contents with a final, satisfied sip.

"Delightful..." he breathed softly, his eyes flickering up towards those already in the bar. He first noticed Whisper, raising an eyebrow at the curious staff in her hand. Channeling his telepathic energies, Joran would attempt a flash-probe over the bare surface of Whisper's consciousness. If succesful, Joran would learn her intentions for entering the bar, her name, and whether or not she possessed super-human abilities. The latter was of course the most intriguing to the professor. He was, after all, the Director of Super-Human Divisions in the NPA, and former professor of homo-superioris at Harvard. Meeting supers was always a delight for the professor... and Gambit's was never in short supply.

He noticed Drakus and Gayle as well. Joran only winced once in Gayle's direction, scoffing a bit at the obsene amounts of alcohol she was consuming. Tequilas. Bleh. Joran had never understood the stuff. A good cup of piping tea was all he needed... that, and a good conversation, of course.

"Fascinating..." Joran said under an exhale, his eyelids fluttering shut as he entered a state of psionic trance. Thoughts and emotions whisped around him like a fog, each discernibly different from the other. This was not the mind of a simple woman. Whoever this girl was, she had the emotions and thoughts of everyone else in the room bundled into her psyche.

'An empath,' Joran nodded appreciatively, 'how... tragic...'

Wary of telepath manners, Joran was reluctant to sift through the plethora of thoughts swimming about Whisper's psyche without first talking to her. Drifting too far into another's mind without permission was considered extremely rude... and yet how could the professor resist? The girl's own thoughts were swimming somewhere in there, after all. He just needed to do a bit of sorting...

Meanewhile, Joran would also have sensed the mental presence of the Stealth units having entered the bar. He did not however, sense Theta. The AI had no actual mind, after all. Joran would attempt a quick flash-probe over them, attempting to read their intentions for entering the bar.

Joran Davrell sifted through the emotions of millions, honing in on Whisper's unique psionic signature. It was a chore finding the empath's own thoughts in a sea of foreign minds, but for a telepath of Joran's caliber, it was not impossible. Joran just needed to find the right signature... the right energy...

In the meantime, the professor was grumbling as he multi-tasked. Who was this 'Theta' character these Stealth Units were meant to protect? No one in the squad he had scanned bore the name 'Theta'. Was it an object? A weapon? The men were carrying some sort of firearms, that much was obvious, as the soldier's minds continuously brought up the various weapons they bore. As an NPA agent, Joran had a right to be a bit alarmed. Pressing further, Joran would attempt a more in-depth search of thei soldier's psyches, looking for exactly who 'Theta' was and if they bore any sort of hostile intentions. Although Joran was a master telepath, his sudden intrusion might leave a bit of a headache and a slight buzzing somewhere in the back of their minds. Unless the soldiers were familiar with a psionic attack, they might have no way of knowing that Joran was probing them.

Joran Davrell was just beginning to finally get a grasp of Whisper's true consciousness when the hostilities in the bar kicked up a notch. The telepath withdrew quickly, not wanting to be of any more bother to the trio should things escalate. Still, the professor remained quite fascinated with the empath. He could only hope that chance would allow him to meet with her again.

At last, Joran opened his eyes, allowing his physical senses to once again regain their efficiency as his psionic energies retracted and diminished. Focusing his attention on the soldiers, Joran at last noticed Theta in his human form. So THIS was that mysterious person. Whoever he was, he obviously wasn't human. That, or he had some pretty damn good psionic defenses somewhere up his sleeves. Joran also found it quite interesting that he couldn't actually SEE the soldiers whose minds he had just been probing ten seconds ago. Their psionic energies lingered... they must be camouflauged.

"Good evening, sir," Joran nodded to Theta as he approached him, wary of the troops by his side, "what brings you to Gambit's today?"

Joran Davrell walked into the bar, a warm smile evident in his cheery face. The bar was a bit more lively then usual today. His hands tucked passively into his pockets as the wizened NPA agent strode quietly through the establishment, his gentle eyes wafting over each of the patrons carefully. His gaze rested in particular on Darien Blackdagger, the professor knitting his brows together as he took note of the half-demon. Where had he seen his face before?

The Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormal-Individuals (RIP) was located in the beautiful San Arda island directly off the coast of the Atlantic. The school itself looked more like a fortress, its huge walls and castle-like structure jutting from the cliffs majestically.

Bladewolf was being called to his first class... the long hallways and rooms of the Institute shaped much like a high school or a college. He'd need to get to his class quickly if he didn't want to be late.

The Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormal-Individuals (RIP) was located in the beautiful San Arda island directly off the coast of the Atlantic. The school itself looked more like a fortress, its huge walls and castle-like structure jutting from the cliffs majestically.

Bladewolf was being called to his first class... the long hallways and rooms of the Institute shaped much like a high school or a college. He'd need to get to his class quickly if he didn't want to be late.

Bladewolf would enter into a large lecture-style clasroom. The students sat in chairs in the back with a large podium up front, currently unoccupied. There were in all about thirty to forty students in this one class alone, most of them appearing none-the-least bit human. Bladewolf should take his seat before the professor walked in.

Joran Davrell walked up to the podium, dressed in a fine suit as he looked out at the crowd of paranormals with a cheery face. "Good morning class," he spoke firmly, "I am Professor Joran Davrell. Welcome to your first day at RIP. The Rehabilition Institute for Paranormal Individuals. Since there's only thirty of you in this class, I think it's alright if we all say our names and what brought us in here today." The professor smiled at Bladewolf. "Why don't you start, son?"

Each student took their turn. Mosts were mutants... though others were monsters or various other supernatural creatures of legend. Each had the same problem though: uncontrollable powers.

"We're going to try and help you here," Joran explained, "you'll be here for about three months. You'll be attending classes and excersizing in the training room. In the end, we hope to have you fully capable of functioning normally in Terran society."

Joran Davrell walked into the bar, a warm smile evident in his cheery face. The bar was a bit quieter then usual today, which suited the older man just fine. The wizened NPA agent tucked his hands passively into his pockets as he strode quietly through the establishment, his gentle eyes wafting over each of the patrons carefully. In particular, they fell on Tevin Okami. Well now... wasn't this interesting? At first glance, of course, the young man appeared more-or-less normal... apart from the shock of silver hair adorning his head. But, if there was one thing Joran had learned from all his years going to Gambit's... is that things are rarely how they first appear.

"Good morning, lad," Joran offered a broad smile, speaking in a pleasant tone, "it's a lovely day, no? A bit cold for my tastes, but beautiful nonetheless." He took a seat next to the werewolf.