Blizz

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location: The Sanctum Sanctorum
Skills: Magic Combat, Magic Expertise
Spells: Star of the Abyss
Outfit

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Jax- Jack could feel the cloak and Eye of Agamotto flying off of him. When he looked down, he saw Strange was alive and well again. The universe worked in mysterious ways, such a thing was not the oddest event to occur. But couldn't the universe have done this just thirty minutes sooner to spare them the trouble? Jack watched Max fly off on his own to catch up with Strange. Touching as that was, he had something to take care of. Jack floated upwards, higher into the air until he had a clear view of the entire city, end-to-end. Up here, in relative quiet, he could contemplate the last few hours.

Life was cruel. And the ways of magic were such that even with absolute power, even with an entire plane of reality under one's whim, you couldn't always break even. Someone would die, and their soul would be wilted beyond recovery. Someone could simply have their neck snapped before their companions could react. People could do everything perfectly, make absolutely zero fumbles, and save reality from being played with like wet clay. And they could still come up short. Lives were lost, all because of Ananym. What did she want in all this? He could have tried to stop her sooner, couldn't he? Jack could have check in with Ananym's young self, tried to steer her off this path and stop an entire future from unfolding.

But he didn't. He was absent.

It made him angry towards himself, and Jack didn't consider himself an angry man. So he pushed the thoughts aside and reaches out overhead. The sky above New York City darkened, as a swirling black portal manifested just underneath the cloud. Those on the ground might think a solar eclipse was happening, right before the Everdark was brought through the Veil and down onto the heads of the demons. It mixed with the inferno of Runa's magic in a display that gods would tremble at, had they not been cast out already.

A meteor shower of dark energy, casting the burning sky in hues of black and faint purple, hammered down on the legions of hellspawn. Demons were knocked out of the sky like birds hit with stones. Here in the light of the mortal world and the fire of Asgardian magic, the corrupting energy would have nowhere to go, meaning once it spread, no one would be harmed. But the demons he struck with his rain of black fire would be withered to absolute nothingness; Shriveled husks that would crumble in the fire, to be forgotten as the world kept turning.

For a moment, one could imagine that Earth was about to collide with yet another world.

Jack allowed the rift to close naturally as he drifted downwards to the Sanctum's doorstep. Once he touched the ground, the onslaught from his spell would conclude. Day would overtake again, and not a single mortal soul would be harmed. Jack walked up to where others were gathering, and met Strange with a weary smile.

"You are not the only sorcerer capable of preserving worlds, my friend." Everything would be much easier now, with him back. "What happened to you? How are you back home? We were informed that you had been killed."

Parahumans: Earth Drega

Bridgewater Bank

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_{@TheMushroomLord}

Being teleported directly to the hostages meant that Tandem was treated to a sight that only Muninn would've had a chance to see from outside. And even then, the fly-by didn't truly do the scene justice. She was on the very top floor of the bank, and sure enough, there were a few dozen people huddled in one corner of what seemed to be a ruined floor for cubicles. Computers were trashed, desks, plastic partitions and fake potted plants were in a heap off to one side, and the halogen lights in the ceiling were a wreck. Some of them were spilled out across the floor, mingling with a finely scattered layer of broken glass. But Tandem's attention wouldn't be grabbed by the many office workers huddled together out of fear. The first thing she'd note would likely be the liquified puddles of silvery liquid that dotted the floor. It was like someone had spilled mercury everywhere, and it hadn't spread past a few feet in each spot.

The second thing she would notice would be the hostages quietly pleading with her to get the hell out.

"No- No! Leave! They aren't hurting us! They'll kill us if they see you!"

"You'll wake it up! He'll be back any second!"

"Please, you'll get us hurt!"

They whispered, frantically, as if something was watching them. Tandem, however, didn't have time to question them or even look around much before something stomped its way around the corner. It was no shorter than eight feel tall, and a humanoid shape. It was a construct created by Kintsugi's power, which absorbed the matter from underneath its footsteps as it came into view. Shreds of plastic plants meant to give this soulless building a semblance of personality poked out through its stony, concrete-clad form. Though it did not have a proper face, it shrieked at Tandem with a sound akin to sand in a blender. The puddles of liquid metal began to shake and ripple.

And then the construct charged forth.

_@Duoya

As Keystone took stairs outside to get up higher, his power would tell him that there was a flaw in the fire escape. It was solid steel, six inches thick at every possible spot one could measure, but it had been compromised because being here on these stairs did not mean he was avoiding conflict. If he stopped and paid attention, he would note little flecks of silverly metal splattered across the railings. The higher up he went, the more of it he would see. This was, in a manner of speaking, a problem. It meant that Ironsides had managed to spread his influence across this area as well.

But something wasn't adding up here. Blackburn hadn't hit the building that long ago. It was true that they had managed to get the hostages in line alarmingly fast, but that was normal. They were Blackburn, they were professionals. Working quickly and efficiently was part of their job description. But if Keystone tried to find an exploitable flaw in the distribution of Ironsides' metal, he find nothing. Blackburn were good at what they did, but powers behaved a certain way no matter what. And ordinarily, Ironsides wasn't known to have this much influence over an area in this little amount of time...

_@Mintz

Taking to the air was a wise decision for Muninn. Circling around the building, he could see through the windows well enough to get a clear, albeit two-dimensional lay of the land. At least half a dozen floors were completely whited out, their windows smeared by a silvery metal that glared against Muninn's avian eyes. Above those floors were exactly three that had been overtaken by a small horde of monsters. They were Kintsugi's work, and resembled twisted, messy works of art carved from wood by an amateur. They were hideous things, and Muninn could see that they resembled the same husks that his team saw littering the ground outside the bank. Only these were moving, where as the previous ones were dead on the ground. If he looked closely enough, he'd see a construct looking remarkably different from them on the top floor, about to flatten Tandem like a pancake!

Or, he might see the silhouette of someone moving down the stairwells at an alarming pace. As if they had somewhere to be.

_{@Silver Carrot@Aku the Samurai}

An assault rifle lay on the floor, having clattered away towards the entrance in the heat of battle. Richter and Decree could see Shattercrash trading blows with the Blackburn member known as Ironsides. He wore an ugly costume reminiscent of patchwork metal and leather. His body rippled with layers of liquid metal, eating up the worst of Shattercrash's punches, which let off vibrant explosions of pink sparks with each swing. Ironsides was taller than her, and looked to be a bit on the heavy side. Though, it might have simply been his power beefing him up. The two were in what seemed to be a boxing match, where Shattercrash hit fast and hard, but Ironsides hit slow and hard.

Shattercrash was able to dodge his punches, and she was hitting him way more than her. But she didn't seem to be doing much damage.

"Give it up, brat!" He shouted, his voice like a watery roar. "Can't win 'em all!"

"WATCH ME!!!" Shattercrash channeled her power into both of her fists, and ducked under another one of Ironsides' swings. She jumped up and clapped him across both of his ears. The force reverberated through his "helmet" and caused him to stumble backwards. The attack shook the ground beneath Decree and Richter's feet.

Shattercrash leapt backwards towards them both as Ironsides writhed on the ground. "Get out of your head right the fuck now, Decree!" she jabbed. "You're in the big leagues now. You freeze up, you fucking die! You come in without a plan, that's one thing- But when you start, you don't stop 'til it's over!"

"Pretty sure I blew his eardrums. He's gonna be feeling that for a bit, but something's wrong here. He's too damn strong right now- His power takes time to ramp up, and he's ramped up too fucking fast for the amount of time he's had control here." She sounded calm, in the sense that all three of them were in the eye of a tornado.

"There should be a PA system around here you can try your powers on! Move your ass so I can cover you! Richter, you want to try fucking up the big guy?"

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: The Toad, the Witch, and the audacity of a certain Bitch.

Cracker Barrel

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Jack walked down an empty street, not all that far from where he had teleported away with Sloane and Anya after seeing Drake. He could hear the distant shouting of the Toga Conga Line marching onwards. For a moment, he allowed himself to think that they might welcome him into their nonsense. It was foolish, yes, but foolish in the way that allowed friendships to grow deeper. Jack dismissed that thought as they went off further into the night, away from where he could hear. Tonight was turning out to be a lonely one. He could've gone back to the Shadowzone and entertained himself with the remnants of his house, and all the curiosities he had gathered over the decade. At least there, in the silence of an infinite darkness, he have a place that was familiar.

As Jack walked, he heard a familiar voice. Was that...

He hurried along down the corner of a street, and saw him. Kenshiro Murakin. He was back, just like everyone else. Jack had no idea that he had managed to return... And he was confronting Emily about the fucking CHALICE.

Jack walked forward, about to tear that maggot into pieces before a fucking spiderweb came out of nowhere. Alone with a blur of what he assumed was a thief who had come to steal it. He couldn't recognize that Abstraction, or whoever it was that had just fucked up royally. Jack looked back and saw Emily trying to melt Ken's face off. That wasn't going to do, so Jack made an orb of darkness in one hand. He then teleported behind Emily and her rancid apparition, throwing the orb to hit her in the back of the head. It would initially feel like getting slapped with a huge blob of super glue. The shadow orb expanded and swirled around Emily's entire head like a black tornado, completely blinding her.

His hood slipped off, revealing his face.

Kenshiro! My old friend, it has been far too long," He said, loudly, over what would no doubt be screams of the damned and screams of Emily Reed's bitching. "As much as I would love to make up for lost time, I'm afraid I have a thief to chase! Take care not to get too close to this one, here." He took a few steps backwards, grinning like a trickster at Babylon, who he hoped would recognize it as him taunting her to distract her long enough for Kenshiro to make a move. "Or the vapid excuse human she attached herself to!"

Jack made a dramatic motion with one of his arms, as if he were throw a curtain in front of himself like a stage magician. He cast a spell that adorned him in a cloak of shadows, rendering him all but invisible in the gloom of the late night.

"I will see you soon, old friend!" He exclaimed, before teleporting up to the rooftops. He saw the stranger swinging away, eyed up a spot along her path, and teleported out in front of them. The spell he cast on himself made him blend in with the darkness, like a sort of supernatural camouflage. He quickly stuck out his shadow hand, hoping he could grab the thief with a sneak attack before they had time to react and realize someone was even there.

"That does not belong to you."

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Oh, you know.

Cracker Barrel

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Sloane was carrying a lot in her heart, lately. Jack was caught off guard by her sudden outburst, saying he should’ve just left her alone. Was he really being that much of a nuisance by having the nerve to care, when he could’ve simply left Sloane to wallow in her troubles? Jack liked to think that he had enough of her trust that his intentions were obvious. He just wanted to look after someone that he well and truly considered a friend.

And that was why he was grateful that he never forgot how to put on a cold face.

“My best friend is dead and I’ll never get to talk to her again, and now her husband hates me and will never talk to me again. My other best friend probably only spends time with me out of pity because she probably realizes what a mess I’d be without her. It’s so unfair to put that on her. I just weigh her down. My dad’s trying to work his way back into my life, which means he’s either working an angle or, worse, he actually just cares about me and I can’t do the same for him. I finally worked up the courage to ask the boy I liked out for a dinner date after ten years and he was murdered before I had the chance to do it. Now I can only think about how much I respected and idolized him growing up, and how much time I wasted fearing rejection, and how he’s now stashed in, in, I don’t know, in some shoebox or something in his sister’s linen closet, and I just can’t even bear to think about th—”

So, the answer to his question was, “everything.” How did he comfort her through all that? How could he? Jack wished he could, he wished he could go back to being that kid who everyone found weird, but trusted to mean business where it mattered. But here he was, a stranger among his own people, unable to do anything meaningful to help someone for which the bar was low enough to step over.

It made him feel powerless, but he couldn’t let Sloane notice that.

“While you and Anya kept everyone safe last week, I managed to get myself jerked around by 8th street and accomplished nothing. I’m starting to realize that accomplishing nothing is probably the best for everyone, because I destroy everything I touch. I lost a bunch of artifacts, including a bunch of knockoffs that I made that could absolutely devastate communities if not entire countries, and I can’t even do anything about it because I’m scared. I’m scared. I don’t know why nobody else acts like it, but I’m so fucking scared that I’m going to die like everybody I ever cared about or continue be a disappointment like everyone else.”

You kept this entire city safe for a decade, Don’t be so cruel to yourself. It’s just a twist of the knife she stuck in Jack, talking about herself like she was worthless. As if Sloan wasn’t the one who made Jack’s childhood goals into her own and made them happen. His expression was stone, weathering her harsh words like they were but more raindrops from the sky.

“It’s not just Jasper. Everybody hates me. I don’t even get it. They just hate me. They found the first excuse they could use and kicked me out as quickly as they could. Seriously, like, how did Britney, who robbed so many people of their future, who used innocents as sacrificial pawns, who, for all intents and purposes, was a war criminal, stay in longer than me? Gets welcomed back and immediately forgiven while I’m still looked at with suspicion and disdain? Is allowed to sneak behind people’s backs and make calls she has no right to make that put people’s lives in danger and not get called out for it? It’s unfair. It’s just so unfair. Not a single thing has changed. It’s all just another popularity contest. Fine. Let them hate me. I hate them all, too.”

”I don’t-“

“And that includes you. Stop pretending like you know me. Stop pretending that you care about me.”

She hated him. ”Pretending? Sloane, that is not-“

”I don’t know if you just feel guilty for abandoning us that you have to constantly hovering around like a helicopter parent, or if you’re actually just secretly a good guy, but please just stop. Hate me like everyone else. It’ll be so much easier for you. Don’t do what Anya did to herself. I don’t want to have to carry the weight of being the reason another person is made into a social pariah. I’m a curse given human form. That's just the way it is.”

“So please, Fuck off.”

There was a brief moment where the mask cracked. The corner of Jack’s mouth turned downward for a moment, and a moment of sadness flashed across his eyes. It was blinked away as quickly as it could have been spotted. Sloane didn’t want him here, she didn’t want him anywhere.

Why did he come home, if this was waiting for him?

Jack stood and there the hood of his costume over his head. ”The Sycamore Tree Coven was family to me, once. The only family I’ve ever known,” he admitted. ”Brothers and sisters all, for which I would lay down my life without a second’s hesitation. I never turned down an opportunity to aid anyone, or be there in their time of need.” Even when it rewarded him with life-changing injuries.

He turned to leave. ”And you are part of that. You always have been, Sloane. And you always will be. Remember that.”

Jack did not teleport away. Rather, he simply walked off, until he was gone from sight.

If he had left tonight, gone back to the Void to explore its deeper regions, would he be missed? If he finally got around to exploring some of those distant places he had been studying outside of Shimmmer, would Auri try to get ahold of him again? Would Anya pay a visit to his dreams?

Or would the wheels continue to turn all the same without him? Jack felt something in his chest twist into a knot. He didn’t want to leave, back when they were kids. He tried to preserve the coven, tried to push it in a better direction. But there was nothing left to save in the end.

These people were strangers now. But they were all he had left.

Interactions: A Gaggle of Dipshits, and his Friends

Isle of Cracks

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Stormy might’ve accepted their offer for a drink in return, were it not for the fact that his attention was grabbed by the Maiden acting up again. That wasn’t too surprising. His aura had been running low, and he didn’t think to renew it. Understandably, the whole table was a bit concerned. And he almost succumbed to the temptation to fold Trevor in half the wrong way at his comment. Stormy tapped his hand to his chest, and his Phantombane aura quickly renewed back to normal. The green smoke returned to visible levels. That should hopefully have a good enough effect on the Maiden that she decalamitied her mammaries. Stormy wasn’t about to let that get out of hand again.

Stormy kept an eye on the feathers and the talons sprouting from Lila’s hand. He wasn’t too worried, but he was taking the circumstance seriously regardless. If all else failed, he could offer to give Lila the aura as soon as he was able. That would be as close to it as the Maiden could possibly get. Everyone started talking about an after party, and a healer.

”Lila, I can lend you the Phantombane aura I’m using in about… Fifteen minutes, once it wears off. I’d need your permission first, but the Maiden won’t have anywhere to go.” And it would give Lila some space between her and Stormy after this little “peace talk.”

He kept an eye on Trevor as he walked over to heal Lila. Meifeng did say not to be weird, but surely she’d understand if he flattened the little shit if he did get weird.

”If Emily does try anything,” he cut in, after Max’s offer. ”I’ll handle it. She’s an Adjoined, and I’m good at countering them better than most paranormal.” Was that a flex? Probably not, but it sounded like on- Holy shit was that fucking Kenshiro?

”Good to see you, Toad Man,” he said with a grin.

And then the others invited him to the party. Jasper… Whispered in his ear? That was weird. But if they needed help, who was he to say no?

Oh, there goes Ken. Poof.

”Of course I will,” he answered Lila. ”I’m not sure I want to know what Emily is doing this time, or what a “toga conga line” looks like. I’m not sure I want to find out, either. I’m ready whenever you all are. I’m sure Ken can handle Emily himself. He has friends in high places, after all.”

He turned and addressed the agents gathered at the table. ”Hopefully, we won’t be running into each other too much in the near future. But still, I appreciate being able to talk without violence. Thank you for that.”

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

Jack Hawthorne/Maximillian Gray

Now it was Max's turn to listen. Jack made some valid points. They had to have been chosen for a reason. Perhaps it was to be different than Strange. To do things he wouldn't do, or couldn't do. A part of him wanted to say to be better than Strange, but he didn't think that possible. He was to be the best of them. Frankly Max didn't think Strange could die until this night. Even then he still grappled with that fact, as if walking throughout a dream this whole evening, waiting to wake up from the nightmare. ”What exactly is our own way then?”

His original point would have been that they had their own means of banishing a god. Jack could have simply banished it to his realm, and as far as he knew, Max could theoretically snap it out of existence with his own magic. But as the god disappeared and the sky seemed to turn almost normal, there was another set of problems to deal with. Comparatively minor, but problems nonetheless. Wong was being attacked by demons, the Pentagram was still active, and Witchfire was on the ground.

They had to break that Pentragram, Wong could defend himself a little longer.

We do what we know best, Jack said, as the two moved backward beyond what would hopefully be the full blast radius in case this went wrong.

They got into position to remove the Everdark rifts from the Pentagram, breaking it to help dissipate the magic within. But as soon as they were about to break the enchantments they placed, the Veil began to renew, the Pentagram dissipating on its own as the other world's began to fade into the distance once more. They didn't know what had transpired, but whatever it was he was glad it had happened. Too little too late for Wong however, as a hoard began to enshroud him and attack. But once again as they lifted their hands to free Max's friend, Carolina came out and banished the damned things. It seemed their allies were finally coming out of the woodwork to help out. Madalyne had been doing her part, sure, but the others Max hadn't seen since the squabble.

”Then we must call upon an old friend first. To help us with our…condition.” Max said as he opened a portal between himself and James. He was currently sitting at his clinic, the most obvious place to find him, especially if you were a mutant in need. ”James! It's Max, well…sort of. We go by Jax, I'm bound to another at the moment and if we part we die. If you could give this old man some youth again?”

James paused, eyebrows raised as he put down the book he just picked up. "Well, I have to admit, you finally surprised me again. Ben and Dorian are fine, though I recommend a really nice bouquet when you get yourself sorted out." James gave his best friend's most recent mishap a look over. "So, what's the trick here? Do you just need to be younger, or do you need me to support while you pull apart?"

…DORIAN?

”Just make us younger. We need the combined might to fight off the demons invading New York City.” Max snapped back like a crotchety old man. ”Ever second longer this portal stays open is a second longer to allow the demons armies to invade through it. So time is of the essence.”

"It's only been an... You know what, not important. You're the only one who'd stumble into this without us so fast." James shook his head in fond exasperation, reaching out to take both Jax's hands. James closed his eyes, sinking into the familiar feeling of their vitals syncing up, and nearly disconnected. His own heart was barely beating; he could hardly believe Jax was still alive!

He focused, bringing Jax back from the brink, unwinding the clock as carefully as he could. It took a few moments but finally, James stumbled back with sweat on his brow. "Christ, Jax. I haven't had to fix anyone up like that since we brought our last batch back from death. Please try to stay alive and make sure you bringing your friends by the clinic when you clean all this up; they'll probably need a touch up too."

”Whoever you are, thank you,” the other half of Jax said. ”…Wait just a moment. You knew Strange, Max. I thought you seemed familiar when we first met. This “Dorian” person is your son, isn’t he?”

”Yes? But I don't see what that has anything to do with this?”

”…I am from your relative future. And you’re from my relative past,” He explained. ”Strange’s death pulled us all from different times, and our times were not so far apart. I likely should not be telling you this, but when I was young, I went to a school for superhumans. With Dorian Gray.”

Max looked at James sheepishly before stepping backwards into the portal and closing it behind himself. He'd have held up a finger to Jack to tell him to shut it if they weren't cohabitating a body. ”Not another word. This is a delicate balance we have right now, and any information about the future could change the future, create a paradox, or worse…write it into stone. Nothing good ever came from peering ahead. When the time is right, I will know.” Jack was clearly from a not too distant future, after all Dorian was slated to go to Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters when he became of age, or at least that was the current idea Max had had. He didn't know whether or not Ben would bite, he hated that school, but if Jack's already spilled the beans on that then it means Ben agreed in the end.

”Apologies.”

”So. The demons. You thinking banishment or just kill them all? Ones less risky and avoids collateral damage to both human lives and buildings. The other…well its more to the point with less risk of failure.”

”Banishment would mean we tamper with the Veil, which he went through enough trouble already to repair. But, we cannot be slow when they are taking human lives…We can renew the Veil indefinitely, at this point: Banishment is quicker.”

”Then let's do this. Care to try that spell once more? Should be easier to handle that it's small fry and not the literal hand of god.”

”By all means. I’ll follow your lead.”

Max took the lead, once again attempting one of Strange’s spells. His most difficult one it seemed. The Flames of Faltine conjured with ease, as too did the Crimson Bands, yet try and try again Max couldn't summon the Winds of Watoomb to aid him like Strange had. But this time was different. ”By the Whirling Winds of Watoomb I banish you back to Limbo you fiery fiends!” Max proclaimed as winds erupted from around him and blew a handful of demons back into their plane. A grin spread across his face. He turned to face another group and did much the same, diminishing the numbers slowly but succinctly.

Good, it was working. ”They've been cut off from this world. There is little more to do than return them from where they came.” But he looked down before, and saw that Witchfire and Annika were… Gone?

”We will need the others.”

X-Men: GenetiX

Days went by, and Ryder seemed to learn to accept her new reality insofar as any new environment could be adjusted to. She observed, she kept her distance, and she studied the people who came and went. There was never a real moment where Ryder allowed herself to believe someone wouldn’t sneak up on her. Even when some of the mutants her age ventured to interact with her, she kept a proverbial shield up, until they decided she was more trouble than she was worth. Perhaps it was undeniably monumental, then, that Ryder made no conscious efforts to instigate anything with anyone who didn’t instigate themselves. If there was any solace in her presence, it was that she truly did not have any desire to fuel any fires.

She had healed from her injuries to a well enough point that a medical exam- as little of one she would allow without a fight- showed she was in good shape. Others had noted that Ryder had a grasp of her powers that most mutants her age couldn’t possibly dream of, only making her more of a target for temporary attention. Due to her recovery, and her potential, the X-Men decided that they could stand to live up to the big words they had preached. Ryder was given a rundown on how they did things. How they had a fancy jet for getting across borders in secrecy, and how they kept contacts with people overseas.

And for reasons that were far removed from the realm of logic that Ryder occupied, they were bringing her along. It was an excuse for her to get out of that school, and it made sense. She could always just hijack the thing and run it into the ocean if they pulled something. Rather than show up in some hideous spandex like some idiotic superheroes did, Ryder just showed up dressed as if she had recently rolled out of bed. She walked into the hangar where the jet was due to fly.

As odd as it was to have a jet under a school, she wasn’t impressed.

”I’m here. Now what?”

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

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Location: The Framework
Skills:
Framework Fashion

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Against everything that was being thrown at her, Leah managed to deal.

Classes got harder, but she was always good at numbers. So that was never an issue for her. Hell, she could help both Sabine and April at the same time with their numbers-related assignments at the same time that she worked on her own. The school’s definition of combat was a joke. She was going through far worse training at 12 years old than this. Usagi was the only element that made it annoying to deal with. But still, she managed to deal. The promotional shit, though? That was unusual. She was officially “Jotunn” to the world now, as much as she didn’t care for people taking pictures of her unless it was her girlfriends. Unfortunately for all the internet people without a life, she didn’t give out interviews or bubbly smiles, she sucked at things like that.

As a strategist who liked to think she could finesse someone smart as Vision out of a chess game, Leah spent more time than most reviewing the Young Avengers’ strategies. She did all of this before 9pm, every day. When it was dark out, she went through her own training routine. Adamantium-fiber punching bags for an hour, a thousand pound leg press session for 30 minutes, 500 sit-ups, a thousand pull-ups with an added 750lbs in weights strapped to her waist, and once she was warmed up? She ran a marathon on a treadmill built for people with super speed.

Leah refused to slow down and rest. She didn’t need rest. Leah could keep going when everyone else couldn’t, and that hee contribution to her team. Even if it didn’t matter to her, it mattered to others who she owed it to. But tonight, something different seemed to be happening. The suspicious Technotwink had some sort of scheme to even the playing field a little. Something to unrig the rigged game. Strategically, it made sense. If they were going to put the golden children on a pedestal and expect the rest to climb, what difference did it make if they chipped away at the pedestal?

Leah had decided to stay in for this one until it was time. She didn’t want to be sweaty and knee-deep in a workout when she got to see Ed’s master plan. Just in case someone was stalking her. It was getting late, and time to go. Leah checked her phone and saw April sent a text… What were the chances someone could read their messages? The wifi was public, after all.

@April, @Sabine

If anyone asks, we saw nothing. The walls have eyes. Not literally, I hope.

Leah got her shit together, and climbed out the window. The last thing she needed was Bruunhilde (who she didn’t want to run into for reasons) or fucking Firestar to ask her why she wasn’t training to kill god himself barehanded. She dropped into a tree, then down to the ground and stalked through the shadows as a certain wizard would have done. She made sure no one would see her that neither a sight nor a sound would alert anyone to her presence. There was more to bring a hero than flashy dramatics, after all. The coast was clear, so Leah let herself into the gym, then showed herself in the Framework.

This was going to be hell on her hair.

It looked like she was the first one here.

"Okay, Ed. Show yourself already."

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This is not an exaggeration.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Aaaaand there’s another. Possible friend for the Elite

Expect some lore on her apparition soon

Nora Foster

Nora.Foster

22 | Nora Foster | She/Her [hr//]"Yeah, I’ve seen this before."

Description:

Nora Foster is a self-employed tech expert. She lives in downtown St. Portwell, and makes a living by fixing, diagnosing and building things for people that can afford her services. In a mundane sense, this includes making trips to places with faulty wiring, repairing computers, salvaging data or writing up programs for someone’s “big tech breakthrough.” She is currently enrolled in college, studying for a PhD in electromechanical engineering. Though, this is more a formality than anything else, as Nora has little need for the education.

In St. Portwell’s paranormal scene, Nora is a trusted asset to people that require a more industrious hand. Groups who push for control won’t always be able to use magic. Sometimes, you need something that can track your opposition without magic, like a specialized drone. Or maybe you lost a limb, and can’t find a healer powerful enough to replace with flesh and blood. This is where Nora comes in, as she has all of this and more. All for the right price. She’s an opportunist, willing to work with many different types of people, barring the most depraved members of society.

Abstraction: Melsha’s Council

Within Nora, an apparition by the name of Melsha has been sealed. In exchange for refuge, Melsha’s immense knowledge of engineering was given to her in a recollection so difficult to comprehend that it nearly killed her. This made Nora into an incredible builder who can create highly sophisticated tech both magic and mundane. Nora’s body is uniquely changed by Melsha’s magic, allowing her to exhibit some of his characteristics.

Necrophage: Bonding with Melsha brought its own set of complications. It was difficult for a being of smoke and brass to inhabit a host of flesh and blood. So a middle ground was necessary, which took the form of a spherical perpetual motion machine known as the Necropage. This device is a prosthetic heart, surgically inserted inside of Nora with her partner’s assistance. It is powered by Melsha’s magic, and incomprehensible complex to anyone other than the two of them.

Sepulcher: A glorified coffin of steel and aluminum, the Sepulcher is a tool used by Melsha and Nora for building bio mechanical devices. This allows them to run maintenance on her heart, or provide her “clients” with magical upgrades.

Creator’s Wit: Melsha’s knowledge of machines is so great that Nora can simply gaze upon a piece of technology and instinctually understand what has gone wrong, or how it works. Car repairs can be planned for before even opening the hood, and walking into a building with faulty infrastructure light up her mind like a Christmas tree. The more complicated the tech, the longer it takes to form a mental picture.

Mechaform: Nora can reshape her hands and arms into a vast variety of tools. Some of these tools make sense from a human perspective, such as screwdrivers, blow torches and ratchets. But many of her Mechaform tools are abstract, as a product of Melsha’s influence. These tools tend to be made for magic, such as “measuring” the colors of an Adept’s lux, or “repairing” emotional fields.

Masterwork: Nora can create a unique brand of artifacts that do not grant abstractions to their user. These artifacts can be anything from a prosthetic limb to an untraceable weapon. Nora’s magic works through clockwork or mechanical systems, meaning there are gearboxes and moving parts to everything she makes. This sounds simple on paper, but through Melsha’s power, her creations go beyond a mundane level of complexity. She could make a fully functioning computer with nothing but rotational force.

The drawbacks to Nora’s tinkering is that Melsha often prefers designs that are, by human standards, old and outdated. Sleek designs are purely aesthetic, there are no wireless microchips, or biometric scanners. This prevents her from applying magic to certain fields, which she would have to use mundane means for.

Edit: MELSHA LORE

Melsha the Architect

.Melsha the Architect

Billions of year | Melsha the Architect | He/Him

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"My dearest benefactor, you have much to learn."

Description: In a place far from Shimmer, a creature named Melsha toiled for millennia to build a perfect world. He carved reality with the precision of a mason, and laid the foundation of time and space as an artist laid paint to canvas. Melsha likened himself to the Ancient of Red Lux, a creator of things so vast that mortals could not comprehend it. In his perfect world, Melsha was content to be less than a god, but more than a simple inhabitant. He yearned to build and create new life in his realm of metal and clockwork, and did so from before time had a name, and would have done so for all of eternity.

But it was not to last. Melsha considered himself a benevolent being in his perfect world, not a god in the human sense, but a force of nature. But the inhabitants of his world were intelligent, made to be so in his image. They built civilizations of their own, discovered ideas that made Melsha proud. Among these ideas was hubris, the notion that they were above their creator. He could not bring himself to oppress or harm his people, and so Melsha was dethroned, ruined. They left his body and his spirit in tatters, with the hope that he might never rise to their level again. Melsha was exiled from his perfect world, and found his way to Shimmer after drifting in the All-Verse for centuries.

He found a human girl named Nora, in which he saw a creator in her own rights. He made a bargain with her, that would give him the stability of a bond with another in exchange for his wisdom. Melsha is now voluntarily sealed within Nora’s body, and extends his knowledge of machines to her. They are friends, and she will be remembered when he returns to his world, long after she is gone.

Abstraction: God of Clockwork

Melsha is a being who lives to create. He understands machines and the design of the universe in ways so fundamental, that they are like breathing and thought for him. Anything that did not exist naturally, from cars to the pyramids, falls within the purview of his abilities. In his current state, Melsha is weak, and frail. His strength is a sliver of his former glory as the builder of an entire world. The most he can do is work through his host, and guide her with his teaching. But at his most powerful, Melsha can harvest a dead star to forge cogs of the purest metal, purpose-built to keep the universe in motion. He can create artificial life more intelligent than humans with brains of ticking clockwork, and extend the boundaries of the All-Verse.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Wrote a weird ass NPC. Maybe Greenwood or some other outdoorsy characters can interact with them sometime. Hmmyes emoji.

More will come. Prepare your ass.

The Watcher in the Woods

The.Watcher

??? | The Watcher in the Woods | He/Him…? [hr//]"You are not in danger."

Description:

There once was a man named Reed Mayfield. He was an Adept inclined towards mimicking animals and promoting the growth of certain plants. He was a hermit, with a military background that left him troubled and weary a long career of service. Nature was his refuge, so one day, Reed retreated into the forests of St. Portwell, never to be seen again. Years went by, and years became decades. To him, time began to mean very little once he cast off his name. Family members assumed he moved out of town, others assumed he went out on his own terms. Both are true, but not in the way most understand.

Today, those who venture into the deepest parts of the woods may find themselves feeling as if they are not alone. The Watcher in the Woods cares little for the troubles of society, but keeps a very close eye on those who walk into his domain. Should someone treat nature with respect, they may find that a deer or a bird will lead them back to a familiar path when they are lost. Those who simply come to hunt and live off the land are left well enough alone, but those who violate the peace of the forest are quickly scared off by an ominous presence that is just barely human enough that they don’t get the wrong idea.

Abstraction: Green Lux

The Watcher in the Woods does not consider himself human, or an Adept. But his domain of magic includes altering his physical form and tending to the forest in ways that simple gardening cannot. It is through the use of this magic that the Watcher has moved beyond the need for a human body, and has irreparably changed to something closer to an Apparition.

Wild Form: The Watcher can take the form of many different forest-dwelling animals, such as wolves and deer. In Wild Form, he blends in with other animals so perfectly that they cannot tell him apart from their own offspring.

• Wolf
• Deer
• Crow
• Hummingbird
• Mountain Lion
• Ringneck Snake
• Great Basin Spadefoot

Apex Predator: The Watcher stands at 8 feet tall, can see in pitch black darkness, and has skin strong enough to stand up to some of the sharpest blades in the world. This was achieved through magic, allowing the Watcher to reshape their body into something inhuman. He can go for weeks without food or water, and can rip flesh from the bones of wild animals with his bare hands. The changes are irreversible for the Watcher, but they are a product of biology manipulating magic, meaning the Watcher is also a very capable healer in emergencies.

Boundless Garden: The Watcher’s body, when not in Wild Form, is a catalyst for ecological growth. Under the thick drapes of hide and moss that they wear, countless forms of plant life grow and flourish. This does not end at plants native to Oregon. The Watcher’s flesh supports everything from sunflowers to creeping arctic willows. Occasionally, this growth can be seen sprouting outwards over their body, tangling with moss and skin like a layer of wool.