No worries!
I will be dropping a post in the next day or two, but obviously no rush.
I will be dropping a post in the next day or two, but obviously no rush.
Abstract Proxy Member
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~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE
Seeing the fire rushing towards her, Vera mercifully heard little of Edward's screeching over the roar of flames as they rolled towards her and the invading wisp.
There was no time to swear again. No time to rail against fate or the pink haired girl woman for sending her into the fire. No time to help the wizard. No time to find cheese boy. She didn't bother gasping for air. The fire would soon steal any oxygen. Besides, what need had the already dead for breathing?
Moving unhesitatingly, faster than the nervous system of a still living mortal could ever hope to fire, Vera's right hand dove into the pocket of her suit jacket, retrieving a small piece of paper. Long swirling letters in a fine black ink, formed a great vine of monochromatic flowers. The product of a bored mind and too much time spend listening to another of Sigrun’s classically long briefing. Vera had found it deeply confusing when Sigrun spent minutes explaining that unnamed Reapers had been banned form Paris and the importance of following the "Standard Operating Procedures"...Reapers were professionals, were they not? Surely such things were obvious.
Wasting no time on regulatory thoughts, Vera summoned power from the arcane reservoir that resided within her. She felt a familiar warmth as magic leapt from her fingertips to the piece of paper. Globus invulnerabilitatis the swirling script read. Globe of Invulnerability.
A shield. A way to buy time. Enough time she hoped. She didn't need much. Just a moment. Unwaiting, Vera reached for the gem chained to her arm. She needed her sword. She needed her sword for dragon hunting.
Given the vibes of the OOC, would something like a wandering apothecarist make sense?
Either way, I'm a big fan of this sort of concept and love me some more serious Elder Scrolls.
Which is to say I'll do some writing.
Posted a WIP below, although it won't be too long to wrap up, as it's been a minute since I did anything ES, so happy to receive any thoughts or feedback.
Edit: Small Updates
If possible I would like to inquire on the nature of the Synod / College of Whispers as pertains to this RP? Do one or both still exist and are they the chief providers of magical training? If not, what other institutions would train a mage instead?
Either way, I'm a big fan of this sort of concept and love me some more serious Elder Scrolls.
Which is to say I'll do some writing.
Posted a WIP below, although it won't be too long to wrap up, as it's been a minute since I did anything ES, so happy to receive any thoughts or feedback.
Edit: Small Updates
If possible I would like to inquire on the nature of the Synod / College of Whispers as pertains to this RP? Do one or both still exist and are they the chief providers of magical training? If not, what other institutions would train a mage instead?
Cam
Surrounded by Mel's books, Cam felt oddly content. Mel's room was like the den of some wild animal. At least that's what Cam thought. She had heard stories about forests. Passed down recollections of encounters with faded creatures such as wolves, bears, and one of her personal favorites, the apex predator known as the Adélie penguin. It saddened Cam that she would likely never have a chance to see one of the 1,700 pound, eight foot, razor beaked hunter gliding through the water like a sleek torpedo of death.
She found her thoughts flowed freely under Mel's roof and in her messy room. It had the soft, pleasant smells of familiarity and comfort. It was safe. It was a home, of sorts, a shelter at least. Good. More than good. Better than they could hope for. Sensing an unwelcome mixture of affection and embarrassment, Cam busied herself with adjusting the formal vest she wore. It was a gift she contended. And it had been, in a manner of speaking.
Leaning lazily against a bookcase she had deemed stronger than the rest, Cam had listened to Mel's impromptu briefing. Four cleaners was a good number. Not too many, not too few. Yasu. Niid. Emma. Familiar faces. Reliable faces. Cleaners she trusted. As much as one cleaner could trust another cleaner, of course.
400 crowns was not bad. 1600 crowns on top of that was very good. Cam was not a greedy creature. She prided her on this. She was a reformed criminal. Nominally, of course. A thief was always a thief. She had not forgotten everything. Only that which bothered her. Only that which hurt. She could change. She could be whoever and whatever she wanted.
Cam. Careful, reliable Cam was good for now. Tomorrow? Well, that was tomorrow. She could be a cat, prowling the city. She could fly, she could be a crow again...or perhaps a magpie soaring over the city.
Electing to focus on mere pragmatics, Cam broached a different topic from her younger comrades, "Will you be providing us with a CAT for the relic? I would prefer not to ask Honest if we could borrow one from her again..."
~1436 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE
"Гавно," Vera cursed, her eyes locked on the scene unfolding in front of her. She heard Lucian's desperate plea for help. She wasn't sure what was happening. They were faced with many sudden problems. Deeply unwelcome problems. The skeletal dragon. The ghosts. Lucian. Beautiful, thoughtless, and utterly guileless, Lucian. He'd have to have turned tangible to grab the cheese. It was a mistake. Gluttony was a grave sin, for good reason. Too much vodka, too much cheese, or too many sexual partners. It was all the same in the end.
The living weren't supposed to see Reapers. The living weren't suppose to know the Reapers. Vera remembered the presentation that the HR representative had given. Corporate buzzwords swirled through her head. Ethical violations. Nepotism. Favoritism. Conflict of Interest. And a most terrifying combination of words forged into an iron clad sentence that Vera could not help but interpret as a dire threat: "Suspected violations of company policy will result in swift investigation by the Assurance & Compliance Services Department".
Vera recognized that she needed to act. She needed to act before Lucian did exactly the sort of thing a man incapable of resisting a dairy product would do.
"Something is wrong, cheese boy, perhaps it is time we leave with your old friend. A dragon, a fucking dragon, and three...three ghosts is exactly the sort of trouble the annoying one told us to watch out for. The time of waiting has passed. The time of acting is now. It is time for us to step...in."
Vera moved closer to Lucian, readying herself to shield the two models. She knew animals. She knew how they thought. She knew how they reacted. She would not throw the first punch. She would not provoke the dragon. Strange forces were at work. Strange forces Vera did not like. To see spirits so brazen. To see a dragon or some creature made to look like one. To have Lucien made by the living. None of that had been the plan. None of that had been expected. Considering these facts, Vera made no effort to fade into the realm of the visible, she had no interest in shocking any watchers. And assuming a tangible form was foolish without knowing what would come next.
"Let us walk to the exit, Lucian, slowly. I will be beside you. Take care your companion does not get lost like our wizard," Vera said, gently nodding towards Lucian, willing his ethereal neurons to work, to perform, and to inspire a thoughtful reaction for once.
Yay!
I'll try to toss up a post later this evening.
I'll try to toss up a post later this evening.
Cam
"Anyone, Anything, Anywhere, Anytime."
Name: Camilla
Nickname: Cam
Identity:
"There is nothing permanent except change."
Cam had a name once, she prefers not to remember. A loving family, she imagines. Simple days spent in wildflower meadows, she dreams. Now she has a job. An adopted name, free from any past. A fresh start and a hastily bestowed or claimed nickname. She has ideas. She has plans. She wants to walk in soft grass. She wants to see trees. She wants to be free.
--- 1
Change.
Change is the only way to survive beneath the cold moon enveloping Outis with a pale, baleful light.
Cam knows this. Cam has accepted this. So she changed her past. She changed her self. Embracing change she found magic. She found new shapes. She adopted new forms. Survival was change. It was all that mattered. Everything could be changed. Everything could be altered. Everything could be shifted to accommodate the demands of the present. The future could be saved by reshaping even her soul.
What is a form?
What is a shape?
What is a soul?
Nothing but water. Water to shape as needed. Water to form to the moment. Each moment. New. Different. And always changing.
--- O --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0
A shapeshifter, a magician with a thousand shapes and faces, Cam is a child of the 10th District. A product of the Underworld, an ardent student of survival, she possesses the free spirited mercenary mentality and morality expected by many from the particular class of criminals that thrive in the shadows away from the eyes of the crown-magistrate and their steward-corporations.
At first an unwilling participant in the great hunt, Cam has somehow managed to rise to the lofty, for a card carrying scoundrel, station of a Rank II Cleaner. A fateful encounter with the 10th District security forces, more guns than was pleasant, and the gentle guiding hand of a high level corporate bureaucrat saw the young woman ensnared in a trap. Unable to gnaw off her own leg, metaphorically speaking, Cam has resigned herself to continuing to work as a Cleaner. Unspoken, even to herself, is Cam's growing enjoyment of the Hunt. She feels it in her heart. She feels it in her muscles. And she can feel it growing deep within her bones.
Buried beneath her professional persona, there is a wilderness, a feral creature, a shifting, formless being of instinct that seeks only survival, that seeks only to hunt, and that bristles at the chains that bind her. There are brief signs, subtle hints of the untamed, decidedly animal movements, and wild, soft gestures. When channeling complex magic, Cam possesses an unmistakable set of pronounced canines, and sharp claws kept desperately hidden beneath leather gloves.
Armaments: Contained within a small wooden box strapped to the side of her right hip, in truth a CAT, Cam carries a relic, an ornate dagger, she calls Night Thorn. Blackened obsidian, as dark as midnight, seems to grow like vines from the gnarly oaken shaft, twisting into three sharp thorns that serve as blades.
At a command, the blades shift into vine-like whips covered in thorns that lash out a creatures in range, causing wounds that weep from an organic poison and pulling ensnared targets closer. Placed on the ground and accompanied by the appropriate somatic ritual, the strange dagger will crackle and convulse, before exploding into a rush of grasping weeds and vines that sprout in all directions, entangling all creatures caught in the resulting 120-foot square.
Abilities:
Cam is an intuitive shapeshifter. She isn't a wizard buried in her tomes. She doesn't worry about the theoretical elements of magic. She can't explain how she shapeshifts, only that she does. One form is as good as another. One face is as interesting as the next. She can be anyone. She can be anything. She never much liked her old self anyways. Cam can assume a wide range of forms, but she must have some remembered visual representation of the broad type of creature on which to anchor her specific transformation. Shifting is a painful and difficult process, requiring both vitas and time (dependent on the extent of the transformation). When more subtle transformations are required, Cam can burn small amounts of her vitas, changing specific parts of her body to tap into the heightened senses or strength of her animal shapes.
Inordinately fond of all animals, Cam adores the rats, cats, dogs, birds, and other urban animals that can be found scattered throughout Outis, somehow managing to survive in the inhospitable city. Stemming in equal parts from her affection and experiences with shapeshifting, Cam has a remarkable gift for befriending the small creatures when she encounters them.
Cam moves with a predatory grace, possessing a lazy, effortless efficiency to her movements. She walks quietly and lightly, managing to surprise all but the most observant. She has a nimble, athletic build, and her body bristles with ready muscles. A natural acrobat, she has honed her agility climbing, running, and jumping to get into forbidden places.
Other:
<Snipped quote>
... Okay so I started on my sheet yesterday and amongst the things I managed to already write was that real life animals (as opposed to her monster animal summons) hate my character's guts, even though she tries very hard to befriend them, so this contrast is amazing. Please pet the rats and cats in her stead.
Haha, amazing, I love contrasts like that in characters, always makes for fun scenes.
@Abstract Proxy I like the wolf-in-a-suit-and-tie. You can shift her over to the character tab.
Yay! Thanks!
Also, gd, I must have been sleep deprived, because it only just pinged on my radar that I nicknamed the character Proxy (and I am Abstract Proxy)...smh, will probably edit that tomorrow when I have slept.
Also, also, two very neat dogs, hard to decide whether business suit dog is more intense than knife wielding wolf or giant dog lady.
~1430 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE
Noticing the resident encyclopedia wandering after the strange procession of undead with a stupid smile plastered on his face that she had learned to associate with matters of arcane academics and related projects sure to waste what little funding afforded to the Reapers, Vera muttered a string of silent curses.
"Cheese boy," she hissed at Lucian, as she moved to follow Edward. She did not trust the wizard on his own. The unwillingly deceased had little patience for art, much less hurried sketches."Our friend who wears glasses goes, we should follow him, before he disturbs the caravan."
Silently shifting, Vera felt a hint of adrenaline. If Reapers still felt such things. She could taste tension in the air. She didn't like it. She didn't like the civilians. She didn't like that the civilians gathered around them. It was a danger. It was a problem. They would have to move carefully. They would have to move slowly. The ghosts would have to be dealt with, eventually.
The dragon.
The fucking skeletal dragon was a bigger problem. Where was St. George when you needed him?
Thinking on the matter, Vera considered, not for the first time, that the reapers were being criminally underpaid. Easy job. Easy job. Easy job was all Sigrun kept saying. Vera nursed a growing suspicion that easy meant something else to the administrative personal.
Cam
"Anyone, Anything, Anywhere, Anytime."
Name: Camilla
Nickname: Cam
Identity:
"There is nothing permanent except change."
Cam had a name once, she presumes. A loving family, she imagines. Simple days spent in wildflower meadows, she dreams. Now she has a job. An adopted name, free from any past. A fresh start and hastily bestowed or claimed nickname. She has ideas. She has plans. She wants to walk in soft grass. She wants to see trees. She wants to be free.
Change.
Change is the only way to survive beneath the cold moon enveloping Outis with a pale, baleful light.
Cam knows this. Cam has accepted this. So she changed her past. She changed her self. Embracing change she found magic. She found new shapes. She adopted new forms. Survival was change. It was all that mattered. Everything could be changed. Everything could be altered. Everything could be shifted to accommodate the demands of the present. The future could be saved by reshaping even her soul.
What is a form?
What is a shape?
What is a soul?
Nothing but water. Water to shape as needed.
--- O --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0
A shapeshifter, a magician with a thousand shapes and faces, Cam is a child of the 10th District. A product of the Underworld, an ardent student of survival, she possesses the free spirited mercenary mentality and morality expected by many from the particular class of criminals that thrive in the shadows away from the eyes of the crown-magistrate and their steward-corporations.
At first an unwilling participant in the great hunt, Cam has somehow managed to rise to the lofty, for a card carrying scoundrel, station of a Rank II Cleaner. A fateful encounter with the 10th District security forces, more guns than was pleasant, and the gentle guiding hand of a high level corporate bureaucrat saw the young woman ensnared in a trap. Unable to gnaw off her own leg, metaphorically speaking, Cam has resigned herself to continuing to work as a Cleaner. Unspoken, even to herself, is Cam's growing enjoyment of the Hunt. She feels it in her heart. She feels it in her muscles. And she can feel it growing deep within her bones.
Buried beneath her professional persona, there is a wilderness, a feral creature, a shifting, formless being of instinct that seeks only survival, that seeks only to hunt, and that bristles at the chains that bind her. There are brief signs, subtle hints of the untamed, decidedly animal movements, and wild, soft gestures. When channeling complex magic, Cam possesses an unmistakable set of pronounced canines, and sharp claws kept desperately hidden beneath leather gloves.
Armaments: Contained within a small wooden box strapped to the side of her right hip, in truth a CAT, Cam carries a relic, an ornate dagger, she calls Night Thorn. Blackened obsidian, as dark as midnight, seems to grow like vines from the gnarly oaken shaft, twisting into three sharp thorns that serve as blades.
At a command, the blades shift into vine-like whips covered in thorns that lash out a creatures in range, causing wounds that weep from an organic poison and pulling ensnared targets closer. Placed on the ground and accompanied by the appropriate somatic ritual, the strange dagger will crackle and convulse, before exploding into a rush of grasping weeds and vines that sprout in all directions, entangling all creatures caught in the resulting 120-foot square.
Abilities:
Cam is an intuitive shapeshifter. She isn't a wizard buried in her tomes. She doesn't worry about the theoretical elements of magic. She can't explain how she shapeshifts, only that she does. One form is as good as another. One face is as interesting as the next. She can be anyone. She can be anything. She never much liked her old self anyways. Cam can assume a wide range of forms, but she must have some remembered visual representation of the broad type of creature on which to anchor her specific transformation. Shifting is a painful and difficult process, requiring both vitas and time (dependent on the extent of the transformation). When more subtle transformations are required, Cam can burn small amounts of her vitas, changing specific parts of her body to tap into the heightened senses or strength of her animal shapes.
Inordinately fond of all animals, Cam adores the rats, cats, dogs, birds, and other urban animals that can be found scattered throughout Outis, somehow managing to survive in the inhospitable city. Stemming in equal parts from her affection and experiences with shapeshifting, Cam has a remarkable gift for befriending the small creatures when she encounters them.
Cam moves with a predatory grace, possessing a lazy, effortless efficiency to her movements. She walks quietly and lightly, managing to surprise all but the most observant. She has a nimble, athletic build, and her body bristles with ready muscles. A natural acrobat, she has honed her agility climbing, running, and jumping to get into forbidden places.
Other:
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