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Talren Cathos

Half-elf sellsword with a penchant for gambling and drink.

0 · 1,245 views · located in Windcrest Market Square

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

Description



Name: Talren Cathos
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Species: Half-elf
Race: Alt-Terran
Nationality: Alt-Terran; Lurandian

Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 139 lbs
Hair Colour: Blonde
Eye Colour: Amber

Brief Desc.: The son of an ex-Thief (with a capital T, mind, and he'll tell you the difference whenever he gets the chance) and an innkeeper's daughter, Talren's past was far from glamorous. He learned the practical skills he needed to survive on the cutthroat streets of the port city of Arantine from his infamous father, and the charisma he needed to complement it from his charming mother.

Talren had something neither of them did, though. He had luck. He seemed to live a charmed life, gambling for a fortune time and time again and always seeming to come out on top in the end - even when things looked sour. Whether it be dicing for coins or for his life, before it was all over, the roll landed in his favour.

It would be the way of the world that some blasted dragon lady would ruin his quite comfy life of dicing, bouncing serving girls on his knee (and for that matter casting the occasional sly wink to the bouncers to match) and drinking to call him off for some blessed purpose or whatever Light damned excuse she had for disturbing his sleep time and time again.

So begins...

Talren Cathos's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jack M. Hatchet Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: WCPD Agents Character Portrait: Maria Raghild Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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”Oh my… How wonderfully intoxicating!” The rumble of a myriad of gunfire and explosions overwhelmed the beat of his heart. A lustful sensation drew to the very tips of his fingers. His shoulders wriggled in a giddy fashion, before he hugged his chest to contain the feelings within. Only his eyes could escape the illustrious orchestra of madness, and peer above into the ashy night sky.

Denizens of Ásgarðr,” A manner of spite twisted the tongue, which voiced his commands. “Be wary.” It was the very epitome of an insult, and warning, to the otherworldly beings who claimed a higher throne.

“Proxies, I trust most of you have kept a surviving distance from the tactics of these aggressors?” The inquiry dispersed electronically to the canals of several ears. With the scope of an eagle, smiling eyes ogled the blazing ground in search of the enigmas.

In a general sense, the word ‘proxy’ refers to someone or something, which is a reliable substitute to act on another someone or something’s behalf. To act, one must be able to react; a reasonable number of the proxies, as they were defined, had escaped the confines of the destruction caused by the erratic soldiers. Meanwhile, everyone else wrestled with their grip on life, and the rebellion they so vigorously showed in the beginning.

Masked faces and hooded figures charged the streets with guns and bats in hand. They screamed as if it was their last moment to live. Soon blurred vision, and an infallible ringing from the explosions caused them to recognize the bodies of their comrades being blown across the street, and splattered onto the sidewalk. Some of the rioters cringed away, while others threatened any oncoming zomborgs with a spray of bullets. Several threw ‘Molotov cocktails’ at the hordes of zombies; the cocktails had been simple jars of gasoline with a flaming cloth at the end. The first to surrender his life to the cause was the speaker of the mob. His megaphone lay somewhere underneath the clashing scores of human and zomborg.

Countless bodies of the rioters had all but evaporated in the ignorant mayhem of missiles, gunfire, and supernatural fury of the so-called “protectors” of this city. One being, of whom stood amidst the grand scheme, had long realized an undeniable truth of humanity. He had taken part in this claim several times. What was it? What did all humans desire so much? It was something, in the purest sense of the word, ephemeral. This drive in every man, woman, and child; it builds kingdoms, it destroys nations, and it inspires every living human to create a new life.

“We all knew what this conflict would bring. Well… maybe not all of us.”

Any one survivor’s eyes would reflect the Aschen Reverence, and bare a spiteful glare toward their fallible approach; after the ungodly blue column of light struck down on the masses of zomborgs a wicked ringing had invaded every conscious human’s ear. The scattered horde of civilians had been assisted by what they truly feared and hated: The Aschen. Out of the ‘Thousand Core’ riot, over two-thirds had perished in the uproar of battle. Hundreds more were injured, and on their way to being mauled. All former predictions of how these people were destined for death the moment they made their choice had, in fact, been proven right. Perhaps, the enemy of thine enemy is not thine friend?

“And, so I see they make their appearance. Oh, what did I say, Mammon? They’ve never known how to keep their noses clean.”

The proxies hid in the shadows of the buildings, and fought each encounter of rabid zomborg on their own, or simply ran away to another crevasse of Main Street; shops, bars, alleyways. Many retained their own unique prowess of how to deal with such things. Each one was subtle. Some were mutated animals or humanoids, others were shifters. Some were even the everyday prospect of an average human being. The variations of these proxies did not falter under any means of scrutiny.

”Tom-Bear, gather your team. It’s time to infiltrate the buildings. Secure the ground level, if you can, but I want a body to set up a fifty degree perimeter of c4 on the interior mid-level of each structure. Ping back, if you need any assistance.”

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Three figures traveled south of the blockade, while keeping their distance from the main fight. A large figure, who seemed more burly and fit to head the vanguard, had kept to its post of snuggling a half-mile away from the edge of combat. Two of the figures, men, lagged behind the larger leader of their pack. Vicious zomborgs, which lay ahead of the men, were left shredded by bullets. However, a few of the undead had limbs ripped off, or their bowels gutted. By first glance, it would appear their bodies were mauled by something with more animosity than themselves.

As the beam of light had literally paved the way, the small party came upon an alleyway, which led to the intersection. “Damn, man…” A hooded man panted restlessly, as he skid to a stop behind his bulky companion. Another masked man followed behind, and all but collapsed for a breath of air. They were both hunched over with palms on their knees, as their hearts vibrated in their chests. “God… You’re faster than you look.”

“I’m a mutant, you dumbass.” A distinguishable male voice reverberated in the alleyway. Every articulated syllable uttered by the deep tone of this thing’s voice caused the men’s backs to arch with fear.

“Yeah, but you’re… a pan-“ The hooded man had begun a stuttered reply.

“Shut up, and follow me inside. Damn sacks of meat and metal will fist pump your sorry ass holes, without me, so do as you’re told.” The enormous body huddled alongside the wall of the alley, and stepped out in the open corner of the intersection. A pair of round, black ears twitched at the roars of the zomborgs ahead of them. Then, with the vexation of a spotlight, the golden flash caused the figures to flinch away, and shade their eyes. A giant, black paw commanded the men to stay still. There they stood on the very edge of the alleyway, nearly fifteen yards away from the group.

Without a glance to the men, the fur ridden proxy directed his stubby claw for them to march toward the building across the street. “Don’t stop.” He growled in a low whisper; his upper lip curled to convey his certain authority over the humans. It would only be a couple minutes, before they reached the other side. With each step they took, their toes curled with tension. They were armed, but lugging explosive materials was one route for a good sweat. These individuals desired no interaction. As they crossed to a half-way point of the street within a minute, the large, ebony and ivory mass of a beast began to shuffle from the edge of the alleyway. He trotted along, as if he were as small and hairless as his subordinates, as if his feet carried no such tons of body weight.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jack M. Hatchet Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: WCPD Agents Character Portrait: Maria Raghild Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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As Ki paused on top of a building, his ears twitched when he caught the sound of voices. "Two humans and a..." he frowned as he lifted his head slight and sniffed the air, his slit gold eyes widening when he smelt the musk of another feline. Moving with stealth long born, he moved towards the edge of the roof and looked down his eyes seeing through the darkness of the ally way a gaped for several seconds when he saw the large male.

(*)Holy shit!(*) he though even as a grin curved his lips. "Born or mutated?" he wondered as he moved closer, his eyes trailing over the figures below ears twitching and tail flicking behind him, but never once kept his attention just on those three, since he also saw the shambling zomborgs nearly 15 feet where the three were slowly making their way towards the other building.

The setting changes from Main Street to Proxi

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
There was a quiet whistle of something sharp leaving a sheath as a hooded and masked figure came up behind a stumbling satyr in the late night, the blade shimmering against the stars in the dark sky. The stumbling Jon slowly turned around and nearly bowled over himself over in the narrow streets of Proxi'. "Oi... Grey is that you, mate?" The drunken figure blurted, echoing though the alley and backing up a few paces.

The hooded stranger was definitely not the friendly man that Jon had met earlier. "Hey, it's not fuckin' funny." Jon added, reaching for the hilt of his claymore strapped to his back and reconsidering pulling it out in his drunken state, the alley was too tight to swing such a weapon around and his drunkenness would only make it hard.

The hooded figure started forward, there was no words for this robbery. The weapon it held was a wicked looking thing that belonged in a slaughterhouse, all jagged on one side and chipped on the one flat edge it had. "I'll-" Jon begun, tripping over himself and narrowly dodging the charging slash.

The satyr hit the grubby street with a clatter of hooves and tried to work his way out of it on his hands and knees, yelling and shouting in his drunken state, he really did want that knife to go anywhere closer to his crotch than it already was. Quill woudn't help him in his state, why'd this guy pick today to try and rob someone?

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
"Ey!" came a yell from the far end of the alleyway, behind the cloaked figure. The source of the voice was none other than Talren, the elf with whom Jon had drunk so heartily. "Put that bloody thing away before I have the mind to shove it up your rear end for inconveniencing my friend there."

The sound of metal on leather echoed through the alleyway as the elf drew his own sword, pointing it at the figure. "Or if you fancy your chances, you're welcome to throw yourself on my sword instead. Now, if I were you - and bloody burn me, I hope I don't sink to such levels as mugging drunkards in an alleyway any time soon - I'd take the smart choice and scarper, I don't really want to kill you and I'm going to assume you don't want to die. Mind, you're all bloody insane in this place, so I could be wrong on that front. I bloody hope not though."

Talren only stumbled over his words a few times during his speech, doing his best to appear sober enough to actually use the weapon he was brandishing.

The setting changes from Proxi to Main Street

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jack M. Hatchet Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: WCPD Agents Character Portrait: Maria Raghild Character Portrait: Zeban Sky Character Portrait: Paragon
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#, as written by Zarhara
As the small force of Mechs marched toward the cyborg a flash of flesh darted out from the shadows a dull grey light could be seen and a high pitched could be heard. The figure raced by a Mech and it fell and it repeated the process until only one remained. It easily dodged the heavy robots weapons. Then the figure raced through the barrier past the troops and down the street. It ran much faster than the average human but not with superhuman speed either.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
General Williams had been walking down the street by the SEC marines when he got reports of his Mechs being dropped. He was about to send a few marines forward when a skinny figure raced by. He caught the figures face in the light and immediately recognized X279.

"STOP HIM! SEIZE HIM!" He shouted to the armored Marines. About six of them raced after the figure their armor enhanced their speed and immediately caught up with him. X was close to the square now but suddenly he made a miscalculation and was backed into a corner at the front lines. Behind the lines Zombies approached while SEC marines leveled rifles to X's head.

Out of the Shadows Zeban sky appeared. "Don't kill him, Mr. Sullen wants him alive." He said in a dark voice to the marines before turning to the boy. "We have been hunting you for months and when our resolve began to falter you land right in our hands. Fates funny isn't it?" He stated laughing knowing the young man could not respond to his queries.

The setting changes from Main Street to Proxi

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
There was an audible sigh of relief from Jon as the hooded mugger turned around at the source of the voice threatening it. The satyr pulled his legs back and lashed out with a vicious kick that sent a loud crack that sounded rather too much like lightning to penetrate the echoing alley.

The cloaked stranger hit one of the walls, bounced off and screamed into the night and gave both figures a look, as if trying to figure out the safest way to escape. Jon's cloven hoof had broken something in the figure's chest, and it was breathing hard in a raspy voice and let the knife drop from their hand.

"Alright, alright. Just lemme go." The cloaked man responded, holding his chest and unwilling to move in either direction till he bartered a safe exit. Jon leaned over on the ground and threw up in a gutter, and heaved a thanks. The satyr would never admit that if his drinking buddy from a few hours ago had just saved his life, especially a greensleeves. The Satyr already owed them too much.

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
"Get out of here you lousy excuse for a thief," Talren shifted to clear the exit of the alleyway, "Next time bloody swindle an idiot, and you might live long enough to enjoy the coins you thieve. Street-mugger in a place like this? Are you mad, man? You're lucky the satyr didn't sprout bloody tentacles and damn you to the deepest depths of the Light-burned nether realm. Go on, move, you damned roach."

When the man had gone, Talren sheathed his sword and unsteadily moved forwards to where Jon was. "You're a bloody mess, you know. I thought satyrs were supposed to know their way around being bloody drunk. How often does this happen, you get taken advantage of by the nearest Light-blinded fool who can lift a knife?"

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
The satyr stood up a little too fast and grabbed Talren by the shoulder and put a hand on the wall, trying to look the elf in the eye and went short a few meters. "We do, but not here. Have you seen this place? Everything is bloody crazy." Jon answered, stumbling on his hooves forward and putting an arm around Talren to steady his pace.

"It's go- good to see you, friend." Jon spat into the gutter, dribbling slightly down his chest and wiping it off with his free arm. "Oi! There are the bastards!" shouted a familiar voice, and the alley behind them filled with more hooded strangers holding a collection of wicked arms.

"Might want to walk a little faster?"

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
"Light curse me for bloody mercy," Talren muttered, "Does nobody appreciate not having their throat cut any more? If I hadn't been drinking..."

But he had been, and Talren didn't quite trust himself to fight all of these goons without all of his wits about him. "Head for the main street," the elf turned to kick a trash-can over towards the approaching figures to delay them before hurrying after Jon.

When they broke out of the alleyway, the darkness was immediately abated by the bright light of a patrol of guardsmen's lanterns. "What's this racket about? You two causing trouble?" demanded the man at the forefront of the half-dozen armoured men.

Talren clumsily saluted. "Nothing of the sort, officer, just trying not to get murdered horribly." he replied.

It certainly was lucky that they'd happened upon a patrol at just the perfect moment, but Talren had come to be used to such events by now.

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
"You're a lucky man, Talren." Jon said rather factually to his drinking companion and swallowed a great deal of flem rising in his throat. The satyr looked behind them and saw the group of sword-wielding muggers had disappeared, which was rather disconcerting.

"Could you point us in the direction of the gnn... gnnn... Docks." The satyr put on a clumsy smile. "I'd trust Talren here, he's good at... not doing anything particular bad." Jon yawned and tried to focus his eyes on the guardsman talking to them, when he realized that the men that had been behind them were infront of them, just behind the guardsmen.

"I think we'nn... Talren." The satyr said in a wary voice. "Talren. They're not..." The satyr threw up on the street infront of the guardsmen.

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
A shout came up from the guards as one of them noticed the sudden appearance of the cloaked figures, and the sound of clashing steel swiftly filled the air as combat broke out between the two groups. The guards were outnumbered, but a whistle sounded amongst them - backup would surely be on the way soon.

Talren decided that waiting for then would probably be unhealthy. Grabbing Jon's arm, he pulled the sickly satyr away and down the street. There was a gate in the distance ahead, shimmering in fashion similar to many of the exits of Proxi into one of the other realms. "Hope you don't mind some sightseeing," the elf yelled to Jon, "I don't think we have time to be picky about where this takes us!"

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
"I'm going to cut your horns off and pawn em, scum!" One of the bandit's screamed over the clash, shoving a sword into a nearby guard and getting thrown back by one of the other fighters. "I'll feminize you if you try, bastar-" Jon begun to shout in reply and stumbled after Talren in the next second, blinking away his drunken sight.

"We're not goin- That's not my home portal." The satyr wondered if it was safe to go back and run to his own portal and decided he liked where his horns were and being alive. "Okay!" Jon threw himself head first though the portal, falling though into nothingness and felt like he was going to hurl, which he probably was when he came out though the other side.

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
Talren followed Jon through the portal with only a brief parting glance at the mob, flashing them a mocking wave as he vanished.

The setting changes from Proxi to Wing City Plaza

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
The portal in the middle of the Plaza rippled, and two figures tumbled through with varying amounts of dignity. Talren landed with a slight stumble, shuddering slightly at the sensation of travelling between realms. "Bloody portals..." he muttered, "Uncivilised method of travel if I've ever seen one. Give me a bloody horse any day, none of this magic nonsense."

He groaned, glancing across at Jon. "You alright there? Not thrown up your bloody guts enough yet?"

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
The satyr rolled to a stop on the tiles of the plaza, jerking to his feet and finding nothing to balance himself on, promptly fell down again and swallowed the imminent spew, making a face as he did so. "That wasn't fun, Talren." The satyr looked up and saw the strangest city before his eyes, his eyes blinked drunkenly and he stumbled over to Talren and pointed.

"Well I've decided that I've had enough of cities, and I can't go back to the Drunken Griffon without getting my horns torn off." The satyr extended a hand, offering it to the extreme right of Talren, since he saw two of them.

"Thanks for your help, but do you know the way out?"

The setting changes from Wing City Plaza to Main Street

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Character Portrait: Jack M. Hatchet Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: WCPD Agents Character Portrait: Maria Raghild Character Portrait: Zeban Sky Character Portrait: Paragon
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Sighing softly Ki leaped from the building down to the ground and moved towards the zomborgs, his eyes slit gold and his tail lashed behind him. He grinned when they saw him and moved towards him. Sliding to a sudden stop, he twisted slightly and lashed out with his tail, twin shlinks echoing as his scythes popped out and heads rolled as bodies fell with wet thunks. Those still standing soon lost their heads as well as his tail lashed back around before flicking and sending blood everywhere before sinking back into the ball on the end of his tail.

He looked back to where the three had been and hoped to met the feline some day but knew he didn't have time to wast as the soldier on his back twitched. "Lets get you some help." he said as he leaped forward and once again raced down the street, leaping burned cars, dead bodies and skirting around larger pockets of zomborgs. Sliding to a halt, Ki's head cocked his ears tuned towards a shout and shifted slightly before leaping in that direction. Only to skid to a halt when he saw several large armored suits and gulped as his tail lashed out to strike into the side of the building to keep him from slamming into one and froze where he stood, slit gold eyes locked on the mech's while his ears twitched and he shifted ever so slightly.

The setting changes from Main Street to Wing City Plaza

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Script
"The way out?" Talren raised an eyebrow, "I can't say I know where you ought to go to get back to wherever it is you're from. You'd probably have to go back through Proxi for that. Might be wise to give it a bit so you don't get bloody stabbed to death."

He shrugged his shoulders, glancing around at the various bemused onlookers watching them. People had started to use the portal here more frequently since Proxi was discovered, but it was still a novelty for people to fall out of the air in front of you to most of the citizens.

"There's plenty of places to stay here, mind, I'm sure you could even shack up at the temple where I'm living. It's a bloody trek, mind you."

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Character Portrait: Jon Silvers Character Portrait: Talren Cathos
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#, as written by Gasmask
Jon sighed and shook his head. "That'd be good. I'd rather not bunk up with strangers." The satyr checked the straps that kept the sword on his back, pulling on the strap and wiped the dirt from his bare chest and rubbed the drunkenness from his eyes. "I could use a bath too..." The satyr continued, licking his dry lips.

The satyr lowered his hand and started off in a random direction. "Show me the way, Talren. I'll walk it off."

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#, as written by Script
"More like stagger it off," Talren remarked, rolling his eyes, "It's this way, you nitwit." the elf jerked his hand in the opposite direction to where Jon was walking before setting off himself, expecting the satyr to turn and follow.

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#, as written by Gasmask
Jon laughed and turned around. Where else was he going to go in an unfamiliar city? The satyr followed after the elf, swaggering behind him. "That's not what-" Jon leaned his head back and tried to remember the rest of the joke, failed and then continued after Talren.