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The Multiverse

The Abandoned Slums

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a part of The Multiverse, by Remæus.

This area is clearly abandoned, and it appears to have housed some population for some extended period of time. There are well-constructed shacks here, tossed together with sheets of wood and corrugated metal, and they have obviously withstood the ages. There is no sign of any current residents.

Remæus holds sovereignty over The Abandoned Slums, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

4,675 readers have been here.

Setting

This area is clearly abandoned, and it appears to have housed some population for some extended period of time. There are well-constructed shacks here, tossed together with sheets of wood and corrugated metal, and they have obviously withstood the ages. There is no sign of any current residents.
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The Abandoned Slums

This area is clearly abandoned, and it appears to have housed some population for some extended period of time. There are well-constructed shacks here, tossed together with sheets of wood and corrugated metal, and they have obviously withstood the ages. There is no sign of any current residents.

Minimap

The Abandoned Slums is a part of Wing City.

1 Places in The Abandoned Slums:

131 Characters Here

Toshya Garcielle Marigold [91] An unstable female. Daughter of a once General, all her family is deceased. She is quick to snap and slow to listen properly.
Ivan [89] But I thought I liked this kind of stuff!
Sraxx [85] "I only want what's best for my brothers and sisters. As of now that means killing you. Good-bye, and long live the Matriarch."
Charlie Grenier [63] C-can y-you help me? S-sorry... I shouldn't h-have even asked.
Lyle Hieber [63] "Everything's all chill man, you know, just chill"
Chance Mackintosh [62] "I do what i have to do to survive"
Kathryn Cox [59] She was last seen in 2006 at a college party.
Nespral [49] The Last Spirit Wolf
Luka Baikov [39] An armed society is a polite society.

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Character Portrait: Warren Aulare
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Under the smog of the city, the dark of the night, the sound of a lone hover bike whirring was heard down a shanty street. Most of the doors and windows were boarded, if there were any inhabitants they were hiding, sleeping, or up to no good.

In the light of a streetlamp, there was nothing, and then there was a man removing his helmet. White hair fluttered in the aftershock, then lay flat in the dead air. Though the bike stayed on, and he remained on it's back, the man did something.

From his pocket he withdrew a six sided die.

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Character Portrait: Jack Thirteen
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#, as written by Lobos
Whistling a tune, Jack stepped inside of one of the more ruggedly built shacks in the slums, the tin door slamming behind him with a resounding back. But what lay before him was far from a primitive abode. Slapping a hand on a biometric pad on the dull gray wall before him, he kept up his tune, adjusting the package cradled in his other arm as the tests ran. With a chime, a panel slid aside, admitting the man.

The whoosh of air past him as he stepped into his lab was strangely soothing, as he swept across the room, slitting open the wrappings as he yanked a rolling stool after him. Setting the sealed case within on the table before him, he popped the locks and opened it.

The look in his eyes was that of a kid staring at a present, slender fingers lightly lifting a tube of refined Elysium up to eye level. The sparkling contents glowed gently, a promise of lethal portions to any mage that happened to get in contact with the material. And now he had damn near enough to saturate a good few city blocks of Wing City with the stuff.

But the twisted sociopath had a different reason for his expensive stock. Humming, he set the tube down into an analysis rack, sealing the unit and then letting the tests run while he drew a trio of tubes and taking them over to his various stations. Prepping his work, he glanced at his scanner, shrugging at the lack of results thus far. It gave him time to go to one of his storage cabinets, poking around the various hypos and containers, breaking his mental tune to chuckle.

"So many choices. Ice, Meth, LSD, hell, even a little Special K. Such fun, making a cocktail so...tricky."

The soft chime behind him gave him pause, turning and wandering over to the terminal. White eyes studied the lit display carefully. "Now then, what do we have here?"

Dilution percentages, energy bonds, particle counts. The make-up of a supernatural substance could be picked apart with ease, given the right amount of money and genius.

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Character Portrait: Warren Aulare
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The die twirled betwixt his fingers, catching the light. In silence the man contemplated tossing the die, letting it dribble into the darkness. This was a desirable place for what it would do, filled with the nasty and the low. It was where the darkest dreams of modern society festered in labs. Where pleasure was able to be concocted and bought. Little phials, little needles, passing from grubby hand to grubby hand. Pathetic gatherings of addicts shied away from the light, smokers clung to the corners as living architecture.

He smiled, hesitating for a moment longer before pocketing the die. Now was not the time. He returned the helmet to his head.

The engine of the hover-bike whirred louder as it reeled from the lamp light, past a hooker who held out a hand in vain. With a ripple and a beep, both man and machine disappeared, zooming through the streets with purpose.

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Character Portrait: Heleine Arin
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[Heleine Arin - Open]

Heleine Arin's footsteps were light on the crumbling streets, hardly making a sound as she raced past the houses with a tiny light clutched in her hand. Though a girl, especially one of her age, should have seemed out of place amid the shabby constructions, her cloak, black as the night, gave a fragile sort of invisibility to her blonde braid and honey-colored eyes so bright with life. Without her small gathering of shadows, the girl surely would have stuck out like a dandelion weed among fragrant roses; though, arguably, the situation may have been reversed, with the street's lining of addicts, whores, and other bits and pieces of society's scum.

Arin felt at ease slipping between them, as they paid the girl no mind. Though she was small, she appeared neither harmful nor as something from which to gain profit. Her satchel sat hidden under the space between her draping cloak and the arm she'd extended to bear the light of the tiny firefly enclosed in her palm. She was happy and unafraid, thus far.

Inevitably, footsteps clouded Arin's peace, and her heart began to speed up at the breaking of her calm. One shadowy figure not unlike herself but certainly much taller stood at one end of the alleyway, and a wider one stood at the other. Arin had not been expecting this. She tried to search out an escape, a way out, but this, too, was bound to failure. Tears began to form in the girl's eyes. What did they want from her? She'd thought they wouldn't notice her presence, but...

As they approached, Arin's grasp on her firefly weakened, and it hovered in the air for only a moment before dropping to the ground, dead. Her mind was elsewhere. She'd ducked behind a mound of waste in the hopes they couldn't see her, but it was hopeless. They only advanced. She'd been so very, very wrong in coming here. As if it were some sort of last hope, Arin sent her firefly high into the sky, sending it straight and high until she could let it explode like a firework into a thousand fiery sparks. It was a flare. She sent another two— three, to make a distress signal.

How could she have been so naïve?

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Character Portrait: Aristotle Roth
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tes

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Character Portrait: Kethyr Naethus Character Portrait: Maria Raghild
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#, as written by Tiko
"You are an idiot child," Maria snapped. "You have no understanding of the wolf-mind, and no weapons. How is it you plan to fight?" she demanded.

She shoved him to the ground, stepping closer to loom over top of him. There was something menacing in her movement and her posture, something feral and hostile.

For several moments she glowered at him, assessing him.

"You cannot learn to use the wolf-mind if you cannot even use your own. You will learn to fight as a man, and then maybe, maybe you will learn to use the wolf-mind."

She stalked away towards the city, leaving him to stay or follow as he chose.

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Character Portrait: Kethyr Naethus Character Portrait: Maria Raghild
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He had his hands on his knees and was catching his breath when she struck. He fell, weakened, just catching himself as he took her harsh words. A scowl sat on his face, more of a pout, really the face of Kethyr holding out on hysterics.

He wanted to cry under her scrutiny. An outcast and abomination, not even good enough for the one who did this to him. He was a mistake, even here. Not a fighter, not even a real man. Just an ex desk jockey trying to re-find himself. He was something worth abandoning.

There he sat in the dirt, with nothing, as nothing. Could he learn to fight as a man? His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He pulled himself to a stand. She was leaving, of course. But was she abandoning him? I'd abandon me, Kethyr thought to himself drawing in a breath. Almost immediately following that thought was another.

No.

It came from somewhere within him. No. A single word with a life changing idea. He was not going to abandon himself. He was not going to adapt this...This...This attitude. Kethyr walked after Maria, picking up the pace as he thought again, No.

Kethyr stayed a pace behind her, silent, waiting for her notice. He would follow her until she did, until she saw that he could be a fighter, that he was a wolf. He was one of them.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whisper made her way down the street with one hand upon the side of the building she was walking alongside to keep her sense of direction. At a distance one might have thought the woman wounded as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other. Her progress was meticulously slow, and her head hung low as she gave it a shake to try make sense of her surroundings. The grey uniform she wore identified her as a member of the Aschen Special Projects Division.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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The stick jumped and quivered in his hands like a living being, both of his hands gripping it as he stomped on the pedals, trying to keep the bird afloat as Terra's gravity began to suck at his ship. The crippled Taiyou bomber spun out beside him as he grit his teeth against the strain, trying to level the bird out.

"Hierophant, Milk Man. I'm flying a fuckin' brick, here. I have no flight control. Repeat, no flight control. Hierophant, do you read? Anyone? Milk Man to any Aschen forces, do you copy? My radar's soup and I'm feeling a little hot in here!"

Nothing. Radio silence as the Viper spun tightly in an uncontrolled dive, heading straight for a city that was all but friendly.


The woman stumbling around the emptiness of their current surroundings had drawn him like a moth to flame; disruptor pistol low, feet silent as he moved towards the sound of scuffling feet. The ghostly quiet of the slums gave the downed pilot a clear sense of her direction; with nothing but the wind whistling through the windows, it was hard to get snuck up on. He watched her progress from between two planks of a lean-to, a few hundred yards up the road, his eyes squinting at the grey uniform she was wearing. Special Projects, he mouthed to himself. Here alone, she must've been someone important.

Smelling his ticket back to Langara, Michael Simmons slowly slid from his hiding position, a tattered balaclava covering his face, reddened skin around his grey eyes the only flesh visible on his body. Clad in his standard issue flyboy getup, he stood easily, keeping the gun pointed downwards.

"Please identify yourself," he hollered, voice hoarse and scratchy, carried by the nothing on the wind.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
The voice scarcely registered. Coalition, Aschen, what did it matter at the moment. The world was alive, every pulse of life in the city rolled through her mind. She could feel them, each every one of them entwined together in song as they came together in a crescendo of musical brilliance.

Whisper made it several more steps before she turned and leaned back against the wall. Everything was so much... clearer, so much... more.

She could hear gunfire in the distance, somewhere at the heart of the city, but it was a distant thought under the rawness of the emotions that flooded the young psionic. Her lips parted breathlessly as the city threatened to swallow her up right then and there.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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Milk Man's fear clutched at him when he took two steps closer to her, the constant stress of the past long days wearing him, grinding him into a powdered keg. The way she mooved... she wasn't in good shape. Something had been done to her.

His immediate thought was Tayou. They were more than capable of torture, mental destruction, and any other kind of insidiousness if they had caught the slight woman unawares. As he approached steadily, his eyes widened even further, taking in the bandages wound around her head, covering her eyes.

They took her eyes, he thought to himself, lowering his weapon to his side and approaching her steadily. The pistol banged against his thigh as he moved, a frown coming over his face. They didn't look like bandages from a new wound; no blood, nothing.

Curiosity beat down the fear, swallowed up the quiet rage as he moved, his hands spreading to his sides. "My name is Michael Simmons, and I'm a Lieutenant, stationed aboard the Aschen ship Unyielding Hierophant. I'm not going to hurt you. Tell me your name."

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
"Spirits, can you hear it?" she asked. "Can you see it?"

She leaned her head back against the wall and pressed the palms of her hand against the cool stone surface. The euphoria heroin had brought her paled in comparison to the pattern that flooded her system.

She ran a hand through her hair and her breaths were shallow as they passed her parted lips.

"The music. I can see it..." she whispered breathlessly.

The girl wasn't injured, she was high.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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There was a long, heavy moment of silence.

Then, "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Milk man approached her, the gun in one hand as his other reached to cup her chin, trying to get a look at the pallour of her skin. If this was some kind of Taiyou joke, he wasn't seeing the amusement. What on Langara was some Aschen Egghead Science project doing in the middle of an enemy hub, high as a jetliner, alone?

"What sort of music do you see, babe?" he murmured, reaching to try and check the pulse of her throat.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whisper offered little resistance to the man's inspection as he lifted her chin up to get a look at her. It was difficult to say though whether the girl was compliant, or just simply unaware of his efforts as the pallor of her skin and the sluggishness of her pulse left it clear the girl was high off more than just the drugs.

"Mmm. All kinds," she murmured.

As he held his fingers over the pulse of her neck she reached her hands up to press against either side of his face.

"I could show you," she whispered.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whisper offered little resistance to the man's inspection as he lifted her chin up to get a look at her. It was difficult to say though whether the girl was compliant, or just simply unaware of his efforts as the pallor of her skin and the sluggishness of her pulse left it clear the girl was high off more than just the drugs.

"Mmm. All kinds," she murmured.

As he held his fingers over the pulse of her neck she reached up and pressed her hands to the sides of his face. He felt so warm, feverish even. The anger and fear that fueled the man's determination was invigorating.

"I could show you," she whispered.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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Her hands on him made him flinch slightly; a sucking-in of breath through his teeth signalled that she hurt him. Not a fan of weakness, he spoke quickly, hiding the noise up.

"You got a violin handy or something, babe?" he asked, though he kept his hand on her throat, a frown on his face. He couldn't help but feel like the Taiyou wouldn't do anything that made a woman so... euphoric. The chances of her being a user increased, and he didn't like the odds.

Just what the fuck was she on?

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whisper moved one of her hands to rest on top of the hand at her throat.

"Shh, listen," she whispered softly.

She leaned her head back again, letting the city wash through her. It was like riding a wave of ecstasy, and she let it crash over him as surely as it was drowning her. The soldiers dying breaths across the city, the men and women hiding in their houses as they waited for morning and an end to the violence, the warm embrace of lovers in the dark, the will to survive that beat within his own heart, it was all right there in her head; though, it was his own emotions that swam to the surface of the ocean and were most prominent to him.

"Can you see it?" she asked.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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He felt the heartbeat of a young soldier suddenly stop and snuff out, a wave of terror amongst his comrades as they fled the streets of Wing City, adrenaline, anger, hatred flowing through them as they tried to fend off death.

He heard the quiet cry of a baby in the night, anguish in a mother's face as she snuffed out the precious life to buy her more time from soldiers who sought her.

He could taste the anxiety and neediness of men and women, meeting as if it were their last night on earth. Most of all, he felt determination in place of strength, will in place of cunning, a hard drive to live - survive through the madness and hell and destruction of the past few days. He felt a pang of pity - for him? For her? - and a wash of sorrow.

"Yes," he breathed, entranced, his hand tightening slightly, wanting to pull away from her.

Desperately afraid to.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whisper let him go as she sank to the ground and leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh. The sounds of gunfire were still well into the distance, but it was only a matter of time before someone happened on the pair of them out there in the slums. The woman was well oblivious of the danger though, so caught up in the city to pay any concern to them. They were just two voices in a sea of thousands after all.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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Staggering backwards, Milk Man let out a ragged breath, hands reaching to run through his hair before remembering the thick black cloth. Gloved hands twitched once - violently - before falling back towards his sides. He settled for bending over his knees, huffing out short breaths, calming himself down.

When he was ready, he stepped towards her, crouching near her. "Hey, listen," he said, his voice unsteady, bouncing with the memory of what she'd shown him. How had she done that? Was that one of the egghead's tricks? Had she drugged him by skin contact?

"We need to get out of the open. Can you stand up for me?"

He brushed her arm with his hand, holding it palm-out, so she'd know where it was.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whispers hand closed on his as he pulled her to her feet. She let him take the brunt of her weight as she leaned against him to maintain a sense of equilibrium, but as before with his physical examination of her, she seemed compliant to his efforts to get her moving.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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Wrapping his arm around her, he allowed her to lean on him as they moved, his gun at his side, eyes wary and watchful. Their progress was as quick as he could make it, coming up on a lean-to that was propped against a crumbling building; a large slab of sheet metal slanted against a remnant of brick. Inside was the cleanest mattress he could find with a bedroll draped over it, a primitive oil lamp, a small wooden desk and a chair, papers filled with red circles and crude drawing draped over it. In the corner was a helmet - the words
Code: Select all
Lt. Michael "Milk Man" Simmons
stamped into the side. It was sitting on top of a survival pack and a shotgun.

"In here," he muttered, bending her so that she didn't cut her head on the sharp metal. He manouevered her so that she was beside the bed, the mattress against her shins, then headed to the writing desk, removing a pencil from a cup.

"What was our status on that name of yours, babe?"

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
The man didn't get much more out of Whisper. Sinking back to her knees, she half draped herself across the mattress before rolling onto her back to stare blindly overhead. The distant inquiries within the room greatly paled in comparison to the multitudes of voices shouting within her head and she let herself succumb to them. It would be hours yet before the woman's delirium abated.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Mike "Milk Man" Simmons
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Circling a position he had scouted, he nodded to himself, replacing the pencil before letting out a breath. He started turning, smiling slowly. "What's it going to b-"

Pausing, he glanced down at her, out of her mind on his makeshift bed. He allowed himself a shake, peeling off his balaclava with not a small amount of effort, some sucking in and out of breath. When the black cloth was free, he brought a jug of water off of the ground, pouring some into cupped hands and carefully washing his face and skull.

When complete, he put the jug back, stripped off the top half of his flight suit, and collapsed beside her from exhaustion. Despite the prone woman beside him, sleep wasn't a chore.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
As Whisper came too the first thing she took note of was that it was morning. The realization had her upright as she ran her hands through unkempt hair. Her uniform was rumpled from sleep and she looked rather like she had spent the night in a dumpster, given the telltale signs of the earlier shoot-out and subsequent trek through the sewers with Denzel.

It was only after the initial panic that she took note of the pilot asleep beside her. If he had a name, she couldn't recall it.

She didn't rouse him as she got to her feet, taking the time to rifle through the papers on his desk. She couldn't read them though, not without someone else eyes to make use of. After a moment of fruitless rummaging she placed her hands against the surface of the desk and let her head hang as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

She needed to get back to the temple.