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Quinn River

21 years of age. Black hair, brown eyes. Head half shaved, hair parted to one side. Lean figure. Resting bitchface. Carries large backpack.

0 · 238 views · located in Smeer Caverns

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Silverlee

Description

Appearance: 21 years of age. Black hair, brown eyes. Head half shaved, hair parted to one side. Lean figure. Resting bitchface. Punk-femme aesthetics. Probably wearing something vaguely anarchy-related. Carries large backpack. Wears lip stud. Dark blue lipstick.

Personality: Bold, yet introverted. Loyal to a friend. Chaotic good. Stubborn and not above a fight.

Equipment: Large backpack, metal baseball bat, small pair of bolt cutters, pen knife, fat markers, and at least several cans of spray paint. Possessions change quickly because of her nomadic nature.

Abilities: Agile. No magical/supernatural abilities. Abilities limited to the bounds of regular humans.

"I was seventeen when I first wrote my name on a bathroom stall in Chicago. I remember using what the kids called a New York mop; it squeaked as it flowed across the wall, leaving a drippy black line in its wake, as if I were cutting into the wall and watching it bleed something like tar. Actually, it was black shoe polish, inside of a repurposed roll-on deodorant stick; a folded-over piece of felt was crammed in the top of it, where the ball used to be. An 'F' flowed into an 'I' flowed into an 'R' flowed into an 'E' as I made my mark.

'Fire'.

I was Fire.

Fire, that was what I felt inside me over the next six months as I went on to be one of the most well-known writers in the city. My talent was questionable - maybe I had a sloppy handstyle, and some people said my throwups didn't look even - but what I did have was a passion to write. A passion to bomb.

Bombing. That was what we called it. Not 'tagging'. It was one of the many words in our nomenclature as we wrote our names with spray paint, markers, X-acto blades, and of course, that trusty mop.

Back then, things were simple: Shoplift your supplies. Find a spot, one that would be trafficked the most when the city woke up from its slumber to go to work. Be quick, be alert, watch for cars and snitches. Run like hell the moment you saw a black and white car. Follow the rules: don't paint over quality art unless you wanted a beating, and never give up another writer to the cops. Find dumb excuses to leave the house at night. Have friends to watch your back. Leave no wall, window, rooftop, or billboard untouched.

For the most part, I was pretty good at getting away with things. Yeah, maybe I got caught once - but it was alright, you know? I was only a kid. Back then, all I needed to worry about if I got caught was a scolding and some embarrassment. It wasn't like what happened three years later, not even a month after my twentieth birthday.

So I was into plenty of misdemeanors, but some crimes I considered out of my league. For instance, burglary of a federal bank. Not that I had anything against it or anything, it just usually wasn't really something I did. But sometimes, irresistible offers are irresistible.

It couldn't be any easier though, right? It trusted these guys - they were friends. They had done this kind of thing before. All I needed to do was get them on the roof - something I had done countless other times when I was getting my name up high. One third of the loot would be my cut, and we'd never speak again after that night.

Some things are too good to be true. It definitely became real very fast when a certain traitor in our group kicked the ladder down, leaving my new accomplice and I trapped on the roof of that Wells Fargo, with not a single dime of the loot to show for it. And when that accomplice turned out to be a magic user, things went from real to unreal a little too fast.

I don't know how exactly these things work, so I'm not going to try to explain it in too much detail. But my friend explained that what he cast was a teleportation spell, to get us both out of harm's way. The catch was that he couldn't control the destination, so we ended up in the middle of God-knows-where.

I don't know where the hell I am. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know if I can get back to Chicago, or if it would even be worth the trouble. But what I do know, is this entire goddamn Multiverse is going to have the name of Fire written all over it.

So begins...

Quinn River's Story

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Character Portrait: Quinn River
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The setting changes from wrath-ira-circle-5 to Windcrest Market Square

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A burst of white light. A change in surroundings. Images and sounds too complex to comprehend, too fast to perceive. A sudden feeling of cold.

Suddenly, snow.

Quinn came to sometime around the time she found herself in a snow bank in the middle of town. Bits of ice, cold enough to burn, found her way through her thin windbreaker jacket and stockings and made her awake.

When she awoke, she found herself on her back, staring at the sky.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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Hovering above Windcrest in a dimensional crossover using spatial stealth technology to phase itself into a dimension that was “vibing” with the origin dimension, allowing it to go undetected while still being able to examine the world around it, was the Gopher. The Gopher was a small assault transport launched by one of the Attican vessels orbiting Terra. They didn’t have to send down the Gopher to deliver Cleo, as they could have used their teleportation gadget onboard any of the vessels, but Cleo had wanted assistance close. Onboard the 45 meter long Gopher were 12 soldiers, 8 automated units, and 4 Paladins that served Hekate and were commanded by Cleo as part of Hekate’s Cult of Attica. The silent vessel stayed in one place, possessing no clear presence to most forms of detection should the area it is in be scanned.

Cleo herself was the only one to be transported to the service, as landing the Gopher wasn’t in their best interest, and simply teleporting Cleo down with the others onboard awaiting her orders was what they wanted. Once they were done here, Cleo would be teleported back to the vessel, and the assault transport would return back to its mothership. The white snow melted upon contact with Cleo’s skin, transforming back into miniscule quasi-droplets of water. She was lucky that her phased vessel could teleport her while remaining phased, as detection would not be her favorite thing. Knowing that the locals who knew about teleportation technology would think that she had been teleported by a vessel in orbit, or one of the starbases, she need not worry too much.

A vision from the Gods, or perhaps from her own abilities as a seer developing into a passive power, had been sent to her. She knew what a message from those mighty beings that first walked on Terra before any creature had felt like. It wasn't like a normal dream, if it came to the receiver in their sleep at all. In the vision, Cleo felt a rift from another universe, not another dimension or even another world, being ripped open; she also detected the magical potential of someone within Windcrest she was told may become the apprentice she was seeking. The huge amount of power to send someone to another universe worried Cleo, especially if the Gods felt like sending her a vision, so now she was here, investigating both.

A formal white and indigo outfit was what Cleo had got dressed into using her exoskeleton’s fashion application. The white shirt she wore was largely covered up to be an accenting factor by a thick, indigo buttoned coat that reached down to just below her knees that had small, fluffy white threads dotted throughout its texture, but they blended very well, and weren't polka dots, but rather just a part of the fabric; it reached down to her wrists where her tanzanite cuffs and their white casing found their place, though it was currently pulled up to being just before her elbows. The long topcoat had a nice, thick collar, and centered between them, hidden beneath the white shirt, and around her neck, was an amulet. The Ring of Nemesis was placed her right ring finger, and a gorgeous watch was on her left wrist. The black pants with white and indigo accents she wore were tighter, but still professional-like, and they were stuffed into a pair of fine brown boots. She felt confident in her appearance, happy to finally use all of these items from the application in tandem.

Cleo stepped forward after entering the market square by teleportation, looking around at the same time her sensory abilities prodded the air for evidence. Then it hit her. A wave of mana so powerful that Cleo was sure it would have destroyed this market if it were weaponized. It was hidden somewhat, but someone of Cleo’s caliber in the sensing of the mystical, especially with the blessings given to her by Hekate, wasn't going to be deceived, and that's why she felt the traveling aura. Cleo continued stepping forward, entering the graceful, confident stride of not a businesswoman, but a warrior, hands in her coat’s pockets, finally coming upon the other woman that people saw suddenly appear.

Cleo examined the girl on the ground coolly.

”Welcome to Terra.” She said.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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As quickly as the rift came, it passed. Sensations of the warm light and images beyond human comprehension were replaced with the burning cold that tore through her jacket and stockings.

It had been only a mild fall day in Chicago. She could still feel the adrenaline rush of CPD bearing down on her, having just evaded an arrest that would have put her away for a ten-to-twenty. The nail in the coffin, she thought, on her life of crime. If it weren't for...

What the hell was that? There was her accomplice, closing his eyes and chanting nonsense under his breath. There was the bright light, the police sirens fading, the images that came too fast to comprehend; like a complex dream that one forgets after they wake up. How much time had passed? Was her accomplice still there, on the rooftop of that Wells Fargo, whispering that gibberish as if his life depended on it?

Where was this place? Hell, most likely, she thought. Maybe she had fallen to her death, or one of the police snipers had put her out of her misery. This is what you get, for living the life that you have. It wasn't the worst thing. Hell had more dignity than prison.

Quinn raised herself to a sitting position, bits of glistening snow and ice sliding off her back, to get lost among the others. Still wearing her black bandana, she slid it off of her face to reveal the features of a young woman. Her gaze came to the woman standing above her.

As she watched the other woman, Quinn spoke the first words that came to her mind.

"Fuck me, it's cold!"

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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The white snow of Windcrest fell gently upon Cleo, some of it sprinkling her hair until it was evaporated by her body heat, just like the rest of the snow. Inside of her coat pockets, her fingers tapped against each other’s fingertips, index upon thumb, middle upon thumb, ring upon thumb, and then pinky upon thumb, but it wasn’t very noticeable. The cold, coat-penetrating wind didn’t bother Cleo, but someone who wasn’t as wrapped up as the young woman before her definitely would feel the freeze. She kept her smile as she thought about Maximillian, her son, wondering if he was feeling cold right now out on Ruula, the world of Pokemon. Cleo continued to examine the girl, before looking up at the gray skies, and reaching out her right hand for the girl to follow.

”It is, isn’t it? There is a fire going over here made to keep people warm, I suppose. Conveniently, there is also a clothing merchant nearby. I’ll do you a favor, and buy you a set. This place is rustic, and simple, but they have everything you’ll need.” Cleo said, speaking only as many words as she needed to.

”I know you’re not from around here, but you don’t need to worry. I won’t be telling anyone.” Cleo’s hand went to her side instead of hanging in her coat pocket, her left still in its respective pocket. Cleo didn’t wait for the woman to follow, certain she would come along in such a hostile environment, especially to a warm place, and certainly when clothing was offered to replace such inadequate wear. The head of state sighed as she placed her hands up near the fire, enjoying the heat even though her symbiote was keeping her warm.

At the moment, Cleo was thinking about how she should have brought her handmaidens. They frequently accompanied her, but were back on a ship in orbit. Next time, she would make sure they got to enjoy a place as beautiful as Windcrest.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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Quinn followed behind, pulling off her black gloves, stuffing them in her pockets, to let warmth of the fire reach her skin. She brought her hands almost close enough to the fire to burn, taking comfort in the heat. She rotated her arms, like a roast cooking on a spit, absorbing the heat in every pore.

Quinn looked up at the other woman, analyzing her features. I must look like a fool, Quinn thought. Thin windbreaker in the icy winter. A skirt and stockings, not thick enough to keep the cold out. Combat boots like some kind of punk reject. A bandana around her neck, a hood over her face - all black, of course. Like a felon. The thought made her laugh.

She pulled off her backpack and unzipped the top to take inventory. Everything was still there - she had been homeless, and the backpack contained everything she required for life. Most of it was stolen, some of it gifted, or traded. Almost none of it bought. Her eyes glanced past her baseball bat, an item so large the handle stuck out of the top, trying to weigh whether or not she'd need to use it.

Her hands found her way to a Snickers bar. To make sure it was real life, she told herself. Her hands, no longer shaking, tore the wrapper apart. She took a bite, savoring the flavor in her mouth - it could be her last, she told herself. Maybe candy didn't exist on Terra.

There it was again. Worrying about the stupidest things. Snickers bars are the least of your problems, a voice in her head said.

"Who are you, and what is this place?" Quinn spoke. Her voice was soft.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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The fire crackled, the wood inside of it singing a little song as it was licked and devoured by the roaring fire that kept this small area so warm that much of the snow melted before it hit the ground. She admired the stone being caressed by the flame it contained, looking around at the rest of the people in market. Some were dressed in plate armor, others in leather armor, but many of the citizens weren’t armored at all. A boy was getting some kind of winter rose for his sick mother, she overheard, hearing that it was just a cold, something being treated, but that sweet child was still worried. She gave a wave to the observant boy, who had noticed her looking at him; she saw a dagger at his hip, and her grinned, giving a wave.

”Hello, bold, little hunter.” Her thought beamed to him, and he just gave another wave as a goodbye before scurrying off.

”This place? This place is interesting. It is named Windcrest, I believe. It’s a city-state of a sort. I’m not sure, entirely, but I know it is run by a Jarl.” Cleo said, confident enough to admit she didn’t know something. She noticed the other eyeing her baseball bat, and she gave a soft scoff.

”You won’t need that. Not here, anyways. There are tons of guards in this marketplace… and if you’re scared of them, they won’t bother you. They don’t know you, remember? Relax.” Cleo reached into her pocket, and held out her Attican I.D.

”Ignore the part that says Empress. They insisted that go on there, but I want to have it removed. I run Attican Productivities, and, as you can see, my name is Cleo Wright. Clearly, it isn’t your usual corporation. We care about our people. We even have citizens.” Cleo wasn’t worried about revealing that to the woman because she deserved all the comfort of knowledge she could get. New universes had to be terrifying.

The I.D. card was repocketed; she didn’t use it normally, and it didn’t hold any importance, but it was useful for telling other people who she was since they didn’t have the Attican database, or the extensive scanners that allowed them to identify themselves. Cleo pulled out some gold coins, and looked around, seeing someone trying on a fur coat in one of the stalls.

”Over there. The clothing is built for this weather, but still rather nice. Follow me over there, please? Would you mind telling me your name? You’ll need work here.” Cleo said, this time waiting for the girl to follow.

”When we get over there, pick out whatever you need. We’ll get some other gear for you after. You’ll need something stronger than a bat to survive here.” The witch waited patiently, thumbing at the edges of a golden coin.

”You’ll also need a guide, won’t you? Join me. It’ll be fun.” She continued to thumb the gold coin.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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Quinn swallowed the first bite of her candy bar slowly, cautiously eyeing the woman. Her other hand slipped inside the bag once again, this time retrieving a couple small pieces of green paper. "Federal Reserve Note" was printed at the top of them.

"Quinn. You can call me Quinn," Her words were slow and unsure. "I, uh... Thanks, but I can pay for the coat." She held the green papers up, pulling them taut between her hands for a second, so they were clearly visible to the other woman. She slipped her backpack back on, feeling its heft on her back.

Her eyes looked around at the townsfolk, clad in armor and dingy fabric like something out of medieval times. She wondered, for a second, if this world was one in the past, before her present time - she wondered if perhaps the rift had sent her back in time. Or perhaps this was some kind of dystopian future, one where mankind had been reduced to primitivism. But what of this woman, using technology far beyond the limits of Quinn's time?

It was then, she felt it, as if a veil had been removed, letting her perceive the way the Multiverse intended her to. This wasn't a tangible past, present, or future. The universe she now existed in was all times and all things colliding. It existed on no plane of reality that she had known; it was a world its own, or many worlds perhaps, collectively giving way to a grand reality.

Her hands, still clutching at her fiat currency, now reached behind her and returned the paper to a pocket on her bag, as she felt its futility become apparent. "Then again, I'm not sure if my money is valid here," Her tone was almost sarcastic, treating the illogicality of her actions as if it were a joke.

"Sure, I'll come with you. I think I need quite a few more things explained."

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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The green currency that Quinn had brought a chuckle out of Cleo. She knew that they only accepted gold here in Windcrest. Places like these, they still ran on ancient trade currencies. Gold was always a good thing to have, though, and because copper and silver wasn’t as valuable, it was one of the best. Cleo usually paid for things much less expensive than gold with a few of her coins, but she had more than enough of it in her pockets; she could have probably stored it with a spell, but… well, maybe Cleo should start doing that if she didn’t want to waste money.

”Well, Quinn, you’re right. Your currency isn’t valid here. They run exclusively on metallics. Thankfully you picked out some of the nicer clothes, so I don’t have to waste my gold.” Cleo was still looking out at the rest of the market, not facing the tender. She turned, and gave a smile to the store owner, and flipped them a gold coin.

”You won’t get bored with me. I’m not your usual businesswoman. I’m usually more secretive about who I am,” Cleo said, leaving out that she was holding back much, much more than she was telling, ”but I felt fine with giving you that info. Let us go get you a weapon over here. Something magical. I’ve heard they have excellent enchantments.” Cleo moved forward to an actual building this time, opening the door, and looking to Quinn before she stepped in, head quirked to the right.

”Maybe some light armor, too.” She said, stepping into the shop.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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Quinn'a eyes darted around the shop, feeling the stare of many townsfolk. "Outsider" may as well have been written on her forehead.

"The fuck you lookin' at?" She was unsure if they understood her words, but her tone was enough to get the meaning across.

She apprehensively explored the shop, her gaze moving from item to item. A familiar feeling came over her. Every blind spot and hole in security became apparent as she strolled around. Secretly she knew how easy it would be to conceal something when the clerk turned their back, walking out with a new piece of equipment while they were none the wiser. But this looked like small business, she thought. She would save such an endeavor for more affluent places in the Multiverse.

Quinn spoke to Cleo, her eyes still not leaving the merchandise. "So what do we need weapons for? Are we slaying dragons or something?" Her words carried a deadpan sarcasm.

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Character Portrait: Cleo of Attica Character Portrait: Quinn River
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As Quinn finishes her sentence, the rift comes again, bringing her to another location in a burst of white light.

The setting changes from windcrest-market-square to Smeer Caverns

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Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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A burst of white light. A change in surroundings.

Quinn arrived in the cavern in a flash of warm light. She fell a short distance toward the ground, landing ungracefully on her side. The large backpack which she carried hit the ground next to her - she felt briefly grateful that the rift didn't cause it to fall on top of her.

She muttered a four-lettered word as she lay there, feeling the pain. Her hand traced her side; at first she swore she had dislocated her leg, only to find a bruise. Baby, she thought. She placed a hand on the ground and pushed herself to a sitting position, grunting through the pain.

She gazed at the man chanting incantations. Her hand reached to her bag, pulling it close. She eyed the metal baseball bat in her bag for a moment, an item so large that the handle protruded from the top, contemplating whether or not she would need it. Her mouth spoke the first words that came to her mind.

"The fuck is this place?"

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Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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Another shrouded boot in soft footfall struck the cavern floor of a being attracted by the words of a mage whatever his ancestry. It was a portal through the shadow realm easiest to reach from where he had been. The pyroclasm of a human was interesting but too undirected. A lack of focus singularly not useful. He left the human in the shadow plane. It was best, neither the supervolcano nor the human could destabilize one another from the dark lands.

The faintly embossed shadow metal armor made little noise as it left cloying shadow but for one like the rub of soft stone. What betrayed Hashim's presence as he crossed out of the dark was the acrid smell of weapon oil, gunpowder, and incense. The air carried from the transiting mage shadowy recollections of a violent memory. When he fully crossed from the umbral layer it was then made clear.

A burning orange glow came from a wall near Quinn. As he approached, Hashim, that smelled like a burning battlefield was just as alit. Bent down to her his voice crackled to Quinn in Loross, the netherese noble tongue, from the violence of magical fire that burnt in his helmet, "This place is interesting. Is that not enough? And you, I think, are surprisingly mundane to make such a call."

Hashim stood tall an imposing figure of over 2m and looked at the other mage in the room and chose to speak in common, "And there are so very many prying eyes. So that leaves you. How much more interesting. I have enough interest to listen to the pleas of the powerful. Ones that shout from my doorstep."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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"Even from the depths of the Warp...I could hear this 'message'" A figure spoke, voice as soft as velvet. And full of malice. A sorcerer of Chaos, in his suit of Power Armor appeared in a red mist. His sword lay by his side, curiosity was in his mind.

To go along and yell to the universe about a meeting of mages. This was a calculated risk, he could have brought a legion with him. Perhaps others would have tried to kill everyone here. So many possibilities...but quite frankly this meeting was far more interesting to listen to than try and interrupt. "Taking a risk with that message...you have gained my attention at least...

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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In a moment of scatter-brained panic, Quinn recoiled away from the man standing above her. An old instinct took over; not two seconds went by before she was on her feet, the bat in her hands, drawing it from her bag and brandishing it as a knight would unsheath a blade for battle. Her haste almost caused her to lose her grip, yet she clung to it tight, holding it out in front of her in an act of intimidation. Her other hand found her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her eyes bounced between the figures in the room, slowly backing away as she did; after all, she didn't wish to engage them.

Her composure began to return. How foolish she must look to these people right now; clad in a jean jacket emblazoned with patches, her faded jeans ripped at the knees (moreso out of negligence than as a fashion statement). Black combat boots adorned her feet, and a thick black belt was fastened tight around her waist. Brandishing a weapon almost reflexively - What are you, Quinn, a cop? - at people that had not done her any harm. Her hands slowly lowered the bat, letting it rest at her side. Her body remained tense, unsure of whether or not the others intended harm. She forced out a brief chuckle in an effort to seem less hostile, laughing at the impulsiveness of her actions as if their pointlessness was somehow humorous.

"Don't mind me. I don't want any trouble."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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  1. possible duplicate content

    by lil_kreen

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Andolen raised a hand, and the baseball bat in quinn's hand flashed brilliantly white for a moment, before it vanished and was replaced by a slip of paper with a handful of marks on it.

"This is a peaceful meeting between great minds, great mages. I apologise for the inconvenience, but your weapons will be confiscated until we are adjourned." He said, his eyes looking down upon Quinn in a clear expression of distaste. "If that is not agreeable to you, then you are welcome to remove yourself from this space."

With that out of the way, Lord Andolen went back to waiting for the others to arrive.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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  1. All please wait until more characters arrive, thank you.

    by Fishbucket

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Andolen raised a hand, and the baseball bat in quinn's hand flashed brilliantly white for a moment, before it vanished and was replaced by a slip of paper with a handful of marks on it.

"This is a peaceful meeting between great minds, great mages. I apologise for the inconvenience, but your weapons will be confiscated until we are adjourned." He said, his eyes looking down upon Quinn in a clear expression of distaste. "If that is not agreeable to you, then you are welcome to remove yourself from this space."

With that out of the way, Lord Andolen went back to waiting for the others to arrive.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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After waiting for several minutes, Andolen Raised an eyebrow and sighed. "It would seem I overestimated the abilities of those who dwell in this sector. I had hoped for a couple of people in particular, but It would seem that they are otherwise occupied."

The Elf Princeling then turned back to those who had gathered, looking between the chaos sorcerer and the entity of flame. He nodded and began.

"I have called for a single purpose. The Downfall of the current Regime. The Imperium of Man, the Aschen Empire, The Taiyou, and many others besides, have seen fit to cast down we who wield powers of the mind. Those of us capable of bending the very nature of the world to our will. They fear us, and so they hate us. This is natural, as any strong being should rightfully be feared and respected by lesser entities, however.." And here he paused with a grimace. "Instead of being respected, our kind are being punished merely for existing. This is more apparent in the Aschen Empire than in the Imperium, where our kind are tolerated at best. However, recent events have come to light that prove that those in power have no respect for the sanctity of life. A drug has been created that, to normal beings it is little more than an irritant. But to those of us with magic in our blood, it is a singularly evil concoction, that turns our own power into our demise. Once introduced to our system, we are left with only two options, to constantly release the surging power within us, a path that causes mass destruction and loss of life..."

Andolen sighed, his arms crossed and his eyes closed. "And then there is the other option.... To avoid.. to avoid being the source of mass destruction and mayhem, a mage afflicted by the drug elysium must constrain the overwhelming power within their bodies. Doing so causes severe and overwhelming pain, and death. It is a horrible way to die."

Lord Andolen shook his head and sighed. "You may have heard of a recent incident in wing city. A young girl, a geomancer if I understand the implications correctly, was dosed with this drug this... elysium. The result was... incalculable. But that is not what makes this inexcusable. The creator of the drug, the true perpetrator of this heinous act, has vanished and is not even being sought after. Meanwhile, the girl who... somehow survived the overwhelming influx of energies in her system, is being hunted as a criminal by the imperium for the destruction. She has been blamed for something she had no control over, for no other reason than because she is a wielder of magic."

Andolen grimaced and looked at the group. "This is the final straw. If they are so ignorant and Arrogant as to blame us for their own crimes, then they have not the right to rule. I seek assistance, for I intend to take down their seats of power, and remove them from their false thrones."

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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"Oho...I heard of this 'Elysium' before. My fellow brothers decided to partake in blood which had traces of the drug. It was rather interesting to see how both the immatirial beings and how mortal men handle such a thing in their system. Although it is indeed and irritant apparently it can also cause some to become...more powerful to simply put it...Just like any drug if taken in extreme doses it has some side effect, for us however just a small dose would cause us and everything nearby to suffer..."

"Such a thing is indeed dangerious, but as for removing those that sit comfortably with power and force us to hide in the shadows...I have...something...planned but as for the moment you have the help of Chaos for now, we wish for the Imperium to be destroyed and you wish to dethrone all the petty nations that ridicule people with power. I wonder though...You would try and dethrone a nation that causes more good than harm...at least not morally of course. The Imperium...you want to dethrone them? I have nothing against your decision but indulge me...Would you cause more damage in the future with them out of the picture? Or do you believe their end will bring good upon all?..." The sorcerer chuckled to himself.

"Wing City, that miserable place engulfed in endless strife. Ever since the Imperium arrived they have been regarded as the cities saviors, every invasion...they are always the first to respond, the first to save lives, always acting...The man who made Elysium was supposedly apprehended by them, only for them and him to be taken away into a void...they save lives...they are one of the few to inspire 'hope' in people...As long as those who use magic are kept under watch there is no need for them to worry...but despite all this you still want to destroy them?...I like that...Bloodshed begits bloodshed, the never ending cycle of war...You truly have our help..."

Oh the day that the Imperium with all their righteous justice would attract people to stop them. Truly this universe was strange indeed, but it was very...interesting...But in the end this would prove to be very favorable to the Dark Gods. In the end, revenge with gain revenge until it becomes an eternal rivalry. And with that, that means more blood that can be shed...and he was glad to assist.

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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A pungent odor came from the side of the room, like that of a skunk. Quinn stood with something like a roll of paper in her mouth. She exhaled a white cloud, before putting the joint out against the floor and returning it to her pocket.

"Sorry. It's medicinal."

There it was. Zen. Level head, body ready to spring. Her body became loose as the effects of the sativa took effect. Panic vanished, replaced by an intoxicating calm.

A sense of insecurity came from being unarmed. Her only defense if the men proved to be hostile would be to run - granted, that should prove no challenge. Her legs had carried her away from from rivals, security guards, riot cops; a few heavily encumbered men were no threat to her. The realization gave her a sense of reassurance.

"I would politely appreciate knowing where the fuck I am right now."

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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  1. sorry it took so long

    by lil_kreen

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Hashim turned to the demon then to Andolen, "As I am less dogmatic than some I am inclined to agree with the demonkind in that it is unwise to create such a power vacuum. I have no heart in me nor does any of Myrkul's own by the mada elysium is of no direct concern. However, if you are inclined to replace the power with rule by mages of one stripe or another as the rightful holders of all power I have no objection."

With a swipe of his hand gestured widely, "Those mired in banal normalcy have no business ruling humankind. They are inferior and wholly unfit but to be directed by their betters."

He slowly turned to put a gauntleted hand on Quinn's head using the lilting voice one would use on a cat or dog instead of looking at her, "And you are with your betters, mundane. Empty your mind of foreign utility and be calm. We may give purpose to your blank slate when it is needed of you."

Hashim continued to the demon and mage, "I am in a position to be made aware of the activities and state of the Imperium. It is unstable and fanatical taken on a dogmatic view as their emperor as aetherkind. It weakens them greatly. I suggest you act before the risen Primarchs and the "Living Emperor" break down the chains of divine fanaticism. Empowered as mundane men you may find them with more allies than their current xenophobic habits."

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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Andolen nodded in turn to the chaos sorcerer and to Hashim as they each gave voice to their own position in the matter. He responded in particular to Hashim saying "I know well the window closes, which is why I called this meeting now, rather than at the date I had originally intended."

"You are right to say that the imperium is in a state of weakness. They are fanatic, and while their emperor whom they deem so glorious will correct that overzealousness in time, they stand currently in the belief that they are at their greatest moment. Pride has raised them high upon it's mantle...."

And here Andolen looked to Quinn, with a smile in his eye. "And thus now is the time to cast them down, where they shall break the most from the great fall."

Andolen was silent, turning his back to the others as he quickly calculated risks and determined his best course to follow. For a few seconds he said nothing, and then "I've been planning this long, intending to slowly close the trap around the fools while waiting for my forces and influence to grow enough to be sufficient for the means." He turned back to the group. "With you joining me, I need no longer wait, and so I will share with you my plan."


He waved his hand at several walls marked in runes throughout the caves. "Over the past few decades I and my followers have been laboring to create hidden gateways between this place and all other vital locations across this planet, indeed across the sector. Of particular note are those over yonder." he gestured to a series of gates marked with a symbol like a circle within a circle and crossed over with an 'x'. Those gateways lead to Terra's city hall, Police station headquarters, several larger media coverage companies, the star port, and so on."

He nodded to Hashim. "Being of the stature you are, with the power you wield, I would ask of you to take to the Police station headquarters and do what you must to shut them down. Contain them if you can, kill them if you must, but ensure that their armory and all their weapons and tools are beyond their reach."

He then nodded to the Chaos Sorcerer. "I had originally intended to get the space marines focus in a large and open area where my men would be better equipped to take them out. Put them out in the open with no cover, as it were. The space port seemed the best place to do this, but as of yet I had no real idea of how to draw them out." He smiled as he said "I do believe that you would have no trouble finding a way."

And finally to Quinn he said. "All of this must be very confusing for you, but allow me to explain in a way that works best for your mind. I intend to incite riots, instigate revolt, and bring about anarchy. I've invited you to join the party. You can go break whatever you want, destroy whatever you want, and generally do whatever you want. My only request is you keep the body count to a reasonable number."

He paused and then said "And this is an open invitation, so bring your friends, tell all the kids and young folk that, in twenty four hours, they can do whatever they want, and the police won't stop them."

He then turned back to the group and nodded. "I've said my piece, we've deliberated. Are there any final words or suggestions before we begin?"

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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"Draw the Space Marines out in the open? That is indeed a good idea, however you just remember they do control the orbit around the planet. Not only are they capable of deep striking your position, many attempts to draw them in the open would instead only have them target orbital batteries in the area to get rid of key targets. Even then if we manage to somehow concentrate their forces at beast we will only gather a few squads out of the 1000 marines per company if they are still sticking to their oh so mandatory doctrine." The Sorcerer started as he began to point out flaws.

"First off...the Imperial Guard forces have possibly finished rebuilding and may have fortified the repaired areas of the city... Chances are they will have access to all kinds of mechanical toys to put chips in the plan. Not to mention their...Emperor...and his sons are gathering as we speak and will no doubt be on Terra. And for the riots and revolts...keep in mind most of the population actually like Imperial rule. No doubt plenty of propaganda to be the cause for this and their actions... And for the police station, the Imperial Guard can just use soldiers as military police to substitute the loss of a police station." The sorcerer went on with small flaws.

"And that is not including any would be 'heros' to help stop your forces. There are many people on Terra which would help the Imperium since in some peoples words 'At least they are not part of the millionth invasion who have come to wreck shit' and I can say that some people do have some power indeed..." The sorcerer continued with more flaws.

"They have dug in well, you should have used the disasters sooner before they could gain a strong foothold for a higher chance at success...Although I can contetrate their forces, I cannot do it in large scale. I can lure in the elites of their first company to the landing pad but other than that you will be up for everything else. It be best to work around all these tid bits if you even want a remote of a cchance to damage the Imperium...Did I also mention that other factions also defend Terra? They may also play their hand in your opposition...The deck seems stacked against you, and with so little elite supporters our plan is bound to fail unless everything can go as planed but much better. These are but my thoughts...nothing more..." The sorcerer said his peace.

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Character Portrait: Abrubhor The Corrupted Character Portrait: Hashim - Remnant of Netheril Character Portrait: Quinn River Character Portrait: Lord Andolen Thatcher
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Quinn's head tilted sideways. "Well, now, perhaps I was brought here with a purpose."

She felt confusion turn into purpose. Liberation on her home world had been her lifelong goal; if her talents could be used in this one, this Multiverse might have some potential yet. The how's and why's of how she got here became inconsequential. You know the drill, Quinn.

"Rioting, revolution.... None of these things can happen without awareness. I say that our first step should be to inform the people; they'll do the rest once they know what's up. Then we can rush that police station." She spoke with a newfound sense of comfort; these people now felt like allies.

Her hand reached into her bag and emerged with a metal can. "Rustoleum" was imprinted on the front, along with the words "Spray Paint". She tossed it in the air and caught it as it came down, listening to the familiar rattle inside. A satistfying sound, she thought. She fantasized about painting messages of truth on the walls, covering propaganda messages with a flick of her wrist. Maybe a couple tags, too, who knows.

"But, you know, I'm just the new girl here."