Blizz

Recollections: The Compendium

DOOMSAYER’S.DECK
| Harbinger of Pyrrhic Fate | "The truth hurts." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Originally the channeler of a white Lux Adept, made into an artifact by a curse. | TYPE: | Scrying Artifact | LOCATION: | Shimmer | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Verona Nash | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	Long ago, a white Lux Adept known only by the name of Katherine used a deck of cards as a medium for her spells. She specialized in augury, the art of seeing the future and telling fortunes. Katherine used her Lux to create an inner circle of trusted allies who protected each other while they pursued political interests. One member of this circle became so trusted by Katherine, that she believed they would never even consider crossing her. But this member used blue Lux, and laid a curse upon Katherine’s cards one day. This curse forever warped the deck’s capabilities, and one bad prophecy after another led to Katherine’s downfall. No one knows exactly what happened, but stories imply it was bad. The Doomsayer’s Deck answer questions about the future, specifically the questions about the bad things that will come to pass. The cards will not answer questions about winning the lottery, or what position someone gets promoted to. Rather, it warns that an individual will lose everything chasing a jackpot, or that they will lose their job to another person. The readings are consistently accurate, and if the user is clever, they are more reliable than most forms of fortune telling. But there is a catch, every possible future in which a tragedy can occur is inevitably made worse when it is divined by the deck. If someone was destined to burn their dinner while cooking, the cards could exaggerate the situation into a fire that burns their house down. To receive answers from the deck, one must draw three cards with a question in mind. The first card determines the context of the outcome, the second determines the medium through which it happens, and the third determines the aftermath. Each card has its own meaning, which must be interpreted and memorized by the user. Cards are divided into three suits, representing elements, animals and objects, but may be drawn in any combination depending on the reading. Flame: Destruction, outbursts, blast radius, literal fire. This card symbolizes explosive downfall, which will only get worse unless stopped quickly. Wave: Suffocation, unstoppable forces, loss of strength, literal water. This card symbolizes things that simply cannot be avoided, or things that are taken without hope of retrieval. Stone: Insurmountable odds, immovable objects, overwhelming difficulty, literal rock. This card symbolizes things too great to be overcome, and things that are beyond one’s own power. Gale: Absolute chaos, surprise, disorienting problems, literal wind. This card symbolizes confusion, and things that catch someone off guard. Star: Revelation, sudden fear, Icarus complex, literal light. This card symbolizes a discovery that is more trouble than it’s worth, or a grave error. Moon: Loss, silence, disconnection, literal darkness. This card symbolizes a void, or a removal of one thing from another. Mare: Obsession, individualism, the one, narrow mindedness. This card symbolizes a hyperfixation, or a desire to do something one specific way. Stag: Indignation, rage, pride, overbearance. This card symbolizes aggression, and protectiveness over something. Dragon: Greed, immense power, tyranny, ambition. This card symbolizes sabotage, and putting one’s own well-being above that of everything else. Moth: Trickery, betrayal, adherence, trust. This card symbolizes the following of some greater will, or being led on by something two-faced. Tortoise: Exile, distance, exploration, aimlessness. This card symbolizes a journey being taken, or being unable to return to somewhere. Mantis: Consequence, retribution, penance, vindication. This card symbolizes an eye for an eye, or failure caused by actions. Blade: Faith, conviction, ideology, brotherhood. This card symbolizes morality, or standing up for something that you believe in. Anchor: Stasis, burdens, confinement, neglect. The card symbolizes a lack of action, or a loss of agency. Clock: Ontology, cause and effect, All-verse constants, entropy. This card symbolizes a greater design, and things that were always or never meant to be. Glass: Harsh truths, inner conflict, warped perception, fragility. This card symbolizes things that one must be forced to see, or the twisting of something mundane. Cairn: Mutiny, bloodshed, interpersonal struggle, war. This card symbolizes dissention in the ranks, or a wedge driven between friends. Hammer: Invention, creativity, wit, forwardness. This card symbolizes a direct approach, or something being created.

Recollections: The Compendium

STASIS.HAMMER
| Arbiter of Stillness | “Handle it with care, or don’t handle it at all." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Made by an Apparition as part of a deal for protection | TYPE: | Tool of Lasting Impact | LOCATION: | Its current location is unconfirmed, but it most likely resides in Glint at the moment. | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Many people have used it over the years, too many to count. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	The Stasis Hammer is, as the name implies, a hammer with a five foot long shaft, made of solid, tarnished silver and wrapped with black fibers. It was created in a universe known as Glint, by an Apparition that made a deal with a mortal to grant power in exchange for protection. The paranormal who first wielded the Stasis Hammer is currently unknown, as the deal was made within the last century, and it has changed hands many times. The artifact has been moved from one world to the next by those who have made use of it, and some collectors suspect it is still in Glint at the moment. It contains the power of its creator, and anything inflicted on the world by whoever wields the Stasis Hammer becomes very difficult to undo, through mundane or magical means. Breaking someone’s arm with the Stasis Hammer, for example, means that their bones will not heal in the slightest even after a year of recovery, and most magical healers would not be able to accomplish much. Similarly, if someone were to break down a door with the artifact, any attempts to repair that door or replace it would ultimately fail. The magic of the Stasis Hammer prevents these changes from occurring once the action has been taken, and the hammer itself cannot undo these changes. But this also means that one can use the Stasis Hammer in a constructive way. A person could hammer stones into the ground to create an unshakeable foundation, or sink nails that will never come loose.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Woe, artifacts be upon ye

My Hider

STASIS.HAMMER
| Arbiter of Stillness | “Handle it with care, or don’t handle it at all." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Made by an Apparition as part of a deal for protection | TYPE: | Tool of Lasting Impact | LOCATION: | Its current location is unconfirmed, but it most likely resides in Glint at the moment. | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Many people have used it over the years, too many to count. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	The Stasis Hammer is, as the name implies, a hammer with a five foot long shaft, made of solid, tarnished silver and wrapped with black fibers. It was created in a universe known as Glint, by an Apparition that made a deal with a mortal to grant power in exchange for protection. The paranormal who first wielded the Stasis Hammer is currently unknown, as the deal was made within the last century, and it has changed hands many times. The artifact has been moved from one world to the next by those who have made use of it, and some collectors suspect it is still in Glint at the moment. It contains the power of its creator, and anything inflicted on the world by whoever wields the Stasis Hammer becomes very difficult to undo, through mundane or magical means. Breaking someone’s arm with the Stasis Hammer, for example, means that their bones will not heal in the slightest even after a year of recovery, and most magical healers would not be able to accomplish much. Similarly, if someone were to break down a door with the artifact, any attempts to repair that door or replace it would ultimately fail. The magic of the Stasis Hammer prevents these changes from occurring once the action has been taken, and the hammer itself cannot undo these changes. But this also means that one can use the Stasis Hammer in a constructive way. A person could hammer stones into the ground to create an unshakeable foundation, or sink nails that will never come loose.

DOOMSAYER’S.DECK
| Harbinger of Pyrrhic Fate | "The truth hurts." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Originally the channeler of a white Lux Adept, made into an artifact by a curse. | TYPE: | Scrying Artifact | LOCATION: | Shimmer | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Verona Nash | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	Long ago, a white Lux Adept known only by the name of Katherine used a deck of cards as a medium for her spells. She specialized in augury, the art of seeing the future and telling fortunes. Katherine used her Lux to create an inner circle of trusted allies who protected each other while they pursued political interests. One member of this circle became so trusted by Katherine, that she believed they would never even consider crossing her. But this member used blue Lux, and laid a curse upon Katherine’s cards one day. This curse forever warped the deck’s capabilities, and one bad prophecy after another led to Katherine’s downfall. No one knows exactly what happened, but stories imply it was bad. The Doomsayer’s Deck answer questions about the future, specifically the questions about the bad things that will come to pass. The cards will not answer questions about winning the lottery, or what position someone gets promoted to. Rather, it warns that an individual will lose everything chasing a jackpot, or that they will lose their job to another person. The readings are consistently accurate, and if the user is clever, they are more reliable than most forms of fortune telling. But there is a catch, every possible future in which a tragedy can occur is inevitably made worse when it is divined by the deck. If someone was destined to burn their dinner while cooking, the cards could exaggerate the situation into a fire that burns their house down. To receive answers from the deck, one must draw three cards with a question in mind. The first card determines the context of the outcome, the second determines the medium through which it happens, and the third determines the aftermath. Each card has its own meaning, which must be interpreted and memorized by the user. Cards are divided into three suits, representing elements, animals and objects, but may be drawn in any combination depending on the reading. Flame: Destruction, outbursts, blast radius, literal fire. This card symbolizes explosive downfall, which will only get worse unless stopped quickly. Wave: Suffocation, unstoppable forces, loss of strength, literal water. This card symbolizes things that simply cannot be avoided, or things that are taken without hope of retrieval. Stone: Insurmountable odds, immovable objects, overwhelming difficulty, literal rock. This card symbolizes things too great to be overcome, and things that are beyond one’s own power. Gale: Absolute chaos, surprise, disorienting problems, literal wind. This card symbolizes confusion, and things that catch someone off guard. Star: Revelation, sudden fear, Icarus complex, literal light. This card symbolizes a discovery that is more trouble than it’s worth, or a grave error. Moon: Loss, silence, disconnection, literal darkness. This card symbolizes a void, or a removal of one thing from another. Mare: Obsession, individualism, the one, narrow mindedness. This card symbolizes a hyperfixation, or a desire to do something one specific way. Stag: Indignation, rage, pride, overbearance. This card symbolizes aggression, and protectiveness over something. Dragon: Greed, immense power, tyranny, ambition. This card symbolizes sabotage, and putting one’s own well-being above that of everything else. Moth: Trickery, betrayal, adherence, trust. This card symbolizes the following of some greater will, or being led on by something two-faced. Tortoise: Exile, distance, exploration, aimlessness. This card symbolizes a journey being taken, or being unable to return to somewhere. Mantis: Consequence, retribution, penance, vindication. This card symbolizes an eye for an eye, or failure caused by actions. Blade: Faith, conviction, ideology, brotherhood. This card symbolizes morality, or standing up for something that you believe in. Anchor: Stasis, burdens, confinement, neglect. The card symbolizes a lack of action, or a loss of agency. Clock: Ontology, cause and effect, All-verse constants, entropy. This card symbolizes a greater design, and things that were always or never meant to be. Glass: Harsh truths, inner conflict, warped perception, fragility. This card symbolizes things that one must be forced to see, or the twisting of something mundane. Cairn: Mutiny, bloodshed, interpersonal struggle, war. This card symbolizes dissention in the ranks, or a wedge driven between friends. Hammer: Invention, creativity, wit, forwardness. This card symbolizes a direct approach, or something being created.

CARMINE.PEACEMAKER
| Blood-Stained Justifier | "The one good what your sinned blood’ll ever do, you old bastard." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Created by fusing an orange Lux channeler with the Abstraction of a dismantled Apparition. | TYPE: | Weapon | LOCATION: | Sonoran Desert, Shimmer | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Wielded by Harlan Ross, its creator. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	During the days of cowboys and outlaws, there was a man who they called Ghost-Eyed Solomon. He was a wanted criminal, guilty on charges of murder and witchcraft, having slipped the noose even as it was tightened around his neck. The American Southwest didn’t have many paranormal beings at the time, and the PRA didn’t have a presence there, so most people assumed Solomon was just a lucky man. But he wasn’t a normal man at all, he was an Apparition that had abscised his own body after death. He lived to kill others, spilling blood to sustain himself for years until he was finally stopped by an orange Adept named Harlan Ross, who went on to civilize most of the Wild West’s magic scene in the years to come. Ghost-Eyed Solomon’s abstraction was channeled into his "killer’s" pistol after his death. The Carmine Peacemaker is a single action revolver made from a blood red metal, polished to an almost mirror-like finish. When the wielder cocks the hammer back, the hammer pricks their skin and draws blood to form a bullet roughly equivalent to a .44 magnum round. Once fired, the bullets cause debilitating pain for the target, which cannot be dulled by mundane or magical means. The wounds caused by these bullets bleed far more than they should, and nothing will get better unless the bullets are removed by the target’s body. Even after a bullet from the Carmine Peacemaker has been removed, the target will still feel the pain as it slowly fades away with time.

MAP OF.THESEUS
| The Boundless Lexicon | "All that ever was, and all that will ever be, laid bare before us. Where would you like to go?" ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Created by dozens of paranormals, brought together across time and infinite distance. Those who built it are scattered across the All-Verse, many have been lost to history, and more have yet to be born. | TYPE: | All-Verse Navigation Device | LOCATION: | Unknown | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Hundreds, if not thousands have employed it across every era and rob from past to future, to travel the cosmos and chart the places unnamed by humanity. The greatest paranormal explorers to live since the All-Verse’s inception have relied on it to find their way. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	The Map of Theseus is the work of lifetimes. Entire rooms stacked wall-to-wall with cosmological data, chronomancers folding time itself into celestial origami to maintain business relations, orange, red and white Adepts painstakingly laying countless joint-castings into lattice structures of crystals to emit light in just the right sequences. Vast collections of bound Apparitions exploited for their Abstractions, all to boost the power of the makers, channelers burnt to ash from exertion. The Map of Theseus is as old as humanity itself, and has been constructed by people in the pursuit of perfection. Thousands of people have held this cube in their hands, and a thousand more have inevitably contributed to its capabilities. The original makers of this artifact cannot be identified, as they were united across different worlds and have faded away to history. But their work will never be truly over. The Map of Theseus is a small cube adorned with glowing blue lines etched across its surface. Concealed within is a geometrically fathomless depth of data, spell work and craftsmanship designed to catalog the All-Verse. It is a paranormal supercomputer with many libraries worth of maps, charts, celestial coordinates and geographic lore waiting to be accessed. The Map of Theseus was named such for its inability to ever be complete, for just as the All-Verse is ever changing, so too will its archive never reach capacity. To use the Map of Theseus, a person only has to hold in their hand, and the cube will respond to their feelings of curiosity, their desire to explore and to know something. The artifact simply knows that a person is trying to use it, and will respond in kind. The Map of Theseus currently has data for 7,892 unique worlds in the All-Verse, each with its own index ready for the owner’s viewing pleasure. Due to the sheer magnitude of the Map of Theseus' capabilities, and its specialized use as a tool for navigating something most people simply don't understand, it tends to attract a very particular brand of paranormals. Aimless explorers without a place in the simple world, knowledge hungry lunatics, artifact hunters with zealous ambition, and warlords looking to conquer entire realms.

BLACK.STAR
| Shard of Entropy | "Reality calcified, time and space crystalized. Entropy made manifest. Don't lose it out there." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Created by an Adept named Mortimer Zapata, as part of a transaction in exchange for a vast quantity of magical knowledge. | TYPE: | Protective Artifact | LOCATION: | Shimmer | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Jack Hawthorne | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	When Jack Hawthorne first entered the Void, he was vulnerable to its influence like anyone else. The horrors of unreality fascinated him, but a fascination didn’t stop his mind from fraying at the seams. He was lucky to have only caught a glimpse of them, but Jack knew deep down that he would not be satisfied without deeper answers for long. He drifted through the Void’s shallows, learning what he could before he could no longer safely study anything new. It frustrated him, not being able to venture further. So he returned to Shimmer, and sought answers back in familiar territory. Scouring through books, secluded libraries and the paranormal scenes of the country, Jack’s pursuit eventually led him to the doorstep of a man who called himself Mortimer Zapata. In exchange for a written copy of all the knowledge Jack had acquired in his life, as well as Jack’s discretion, Mortimer worked his magic to create a special object to accommodate Jack’s incursions into the Void. The Black Star is a non-Abstraction granting artifact created by Orange Lux. It is a small amulet made of polished black jade, rose gold, and African blackwood. Whoever wears it is rendered entirely immune to the harmful effects of the Void, allowing the mind to heal the worst of its damage. The Black Star’s protection even diminishes the effects of what Jack calls “Void Exposure,” or the mental erosion caused by the denizens of the Void. The artifact wards them off, acting as a deterrent so long as the user does not actively aggress or agitate the horrors. Anyone can benefit from the Black Star regardless of their Abstraction, but the artifact requires a brief period to “calibrate” itself to the unique emotional field of every person that wears it for the first time. This means that a person can wear the Black Star and still be ruined by exposure to the Void if they are not aware of its nuances.

X-Men: GenetiX

There was one thing in the entire universe preventing that old man from getting his head imploded like a damaged submarine, and that was the fact that Ryder noticed a second jet coming down long before Cyclops had. The computer, the systems that told the jet to fly to their last known location, the turbine engines breathing fire in its wake, it was just as easy to find for Ryder as it was for Magneto.

Genosha might’ve been a mass grave, otherwise.

The X-men… God, that name sounded so fucking stupid to Ryder, They touched down and expressed their worry. Ryder was surprised a bit surprised that the guy in the wheelchair would come all the way out here, but Xavier wasn’t getting a pat on the back for it. She was just glad she didn’t have to hijack something to get out of here.

”We’re done here. If we’re going, then let’s go,” she said, not so much as a thank-you for their obvious worry. Ryder turned around and leapt dozens of feet into the air, landing with a loud CLANG in the cockpit of the jet that Magneto had pilfered. Sounds of metal twisting announced the sight of scrap being flung out, littering the streets of Genosha. When Ryder emerged again, the damaged chest laser she looted was floating behind her. She dropped down with it following her, unbothered by the distance of the fall.

”This is what happens when someone pisses me off. We’re done here.”

X-Men: GenetiX

Genosha seemed like a different place than anything Ryder was familiar with, as much as she was personally familiar with anything in the world. She walked down a street where mutants, and not a single human, were going about their days. It was a busy morning, with flying mutants setting up the outside of what looked like a stage where a few others were making shapes with illusions. Chairs were being arranged for a currently absent audience by a psychic, while a glowing green portal allowed others to slowly trickle in.

Someone on the stage waved at Ryder. She started walking faster.

Ryder didn't want to be here. She didn't know who these people were, and that alone made the X-men a preferable option. She didn't want these people getting the idea that she was one of them, mutant or not. She kept walking down the busy downtown area, where others were out and about. Genosha had the appearance of a city where actual people ran things, not a desert of concrete and rebar like most places. There was nothing sterile about the city, buildings were colorful, made by people who wanted warmth in the landscape. It was obvious based on Ryder's surroundings. There weren't parking lots outnumbering buildings, but sprawling sidewalks that let people roam free.

Ryder always wondered how humans could tolerate metal coffins on wheels as the main way to get around their own homes. But then again, she wasn't human. Maybe that was why she didn't care very much for this, either. It was a human problem, and this was a solution of Genosha, which wasn't her world.

She passed a large, circular building made from red-orange stone. Cube-shaped protrusions jutted out in what Ryder assumed were places for people to sit inside. The words "Genosha City Library" were played out in silvery letters above a pair of double doors, atop a flight of stairs marked with what looked like street art. Ryder could see people moving around inside, and wondered what they had tucked away. She stared the building down, feeling around inside with her power, and didn't find much on computers. They had a digital backlog of every book, but not much about mutants.

What kind of mutant utopia didn't have an extensive library of mutant books? That was just a disappointment more than anything. If they were this special, they could just write their own.

She turned and kept walking. It was warm today, warmer than the old man's mansion or the lab. Warm in a comforting way.

Ryder passed a park, where kids half her age were throwing a soccer ball around with their powers. The ball shot at her like a bullet, and was promptly stopped midair with her powers, still spinning at an absurd speed where it floated, and Ryder hadn't even flinched. A kid with four arms and skin like craggy stone ran over to her, barely three feet tall.

"Sorry!" They croaked, their voice was grating to Ryder. "Nice catch, you wanna play with us? We really need a goalk-"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Ryder turned and glared daggers at the kid. Her eyes might've set them on fire if she wanted, and that alone was enough for them to shut up. Ryder flicked her wrist, and the soccer ball was sent flying back over his head with a loud crack of the wind. The four-armed mutant flinched, and Ryder walked away.

People were staring. She didn't care.

She felt out with her powers for Cyclops, he was significantly closer, if her psychic abilities were correct.

This place is getting on my nerves. The jet can fly, it's not busted that badly. We don't need to stay here any longer than it takes for you to stand up.

She was exercising extreme levels of patience by not leaving without him.

I already ripped one of those machines apart. I'll do it again.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: The Sycamore Tree Coven

The All-Verse

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Beyond the Shores (Excerpt I)

The illusions faded, and they left Jack in the real world again. Watching all of their faces twist away into thin trails of smoke scraped at something inside Jack, a recess in his heart that had gone untouched for so long. He watched things blur and wash away, and not once did he question the miasma of what might have been, until there was less of it than cold, unforgiving, unavoidable rainfall. Jack had seen many people draw their last breaths in his life, and he had always found the strength to carry on. After all, what more could one do? But that paradise, that promise of halcyon days beyond this strife had given Jack security. He believed it to be real, and it hurt all the more for it when that illusion fell to pieces. Something sharp burned behind Jack’s ribs, they were together again. Everything was good again, they had won against Father Wolf, and all that was wrong had been made right.

That pain in his chest rose up into his throat, hot and threatening to split him open. People often said that it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. But for a fleeting moment, Jack had just that and more. Wealth of a rare kind in the All-Verse, and all of it no less. His head tilted back, as he gazed absently into the pitch black clouds above. Jack had a feeling that he’d rather never find that love at all, then to have it and lose it so easily. The rain fell down and soaked him. His boots sank an inch into the mud, the wind laid itself into stillness. No mistake could be made, this was real.

And he could hear others shouting.

Jack was many things, none of them anything particularly virtuous; Vindictive, wise, possessed by great wanderlust, wistful beyond reason… But he often dwelled on the feeling that he could not count loyalty and trustworthy among those things. What good were the things he discovered and accomplished if there were none to share them with?

All the universe slowed to stasis, just long enough for Jack to come to terms with the fact that he was so very tired. Not in a way that sleep could remedy, but in a way that only others could. Auri was counting everyone. Making sure they were all still alive. Jack could’ve slipped into the Void, and let these awful emotions out in a place where no one would see. He would’ve screamed, raged until every last denizen of the empty realm feared him. He could have composed himself, and maintained the appearance of that untethered, whimsical scholar he styled himself as. Jack wanted to. It was so tempting, but he didn’t.

He simply appeared among the group around Sloane, in a puff of dark smoke. Jack made no attempt to conceal the wounded, forlorn expression on his face. He didn’t care enough to, anymore.

”My friends,” he began. ”Let us leave this place. I will send everyone where they wish to go. We are alive, and today, that is enough.”

Today, and only today, he told himself.

”We drove them to retreat, and they did not win. One day, the 8th Street Coven will make their last mistake.” Long, wet hair cling to his face as he managed a smile that came with the catharsis of a parent discovering their child survived a plane crash, of someone seeing their friend escape from a burning building.

”I am glad you are all still here.”

SPIRITUM

---

The cannon fire from the sky did not deter Morden, nor did the shrapnel of stone, dirt and metal that flew up into his face while he blasted away into the night. He merely blinked the detritus away while keeping robots on the backpedal. Valerie’s use of magic in this case was keeping them just ahead of everything that “third party” could throw at them. And Morden wasn’t surprised. For one thing, Barghest was not to be fucked with. They had Valerie, they had Silje. The robots were good high speed target practice, but Morden only had so many shells. He stopped his assault on the machines after firing no less than 20 sabots at incoming robots.

As they rode off, he allowed his mist-derived strength to wane.

Valerie stopped the truck, and stopped using her magic on it. Morden watched her lurch out of the truck and hurl up blood from mistburned blood. Morden, having a higher tolerance for mist than most Wardens of his level, knew all too well how rough the overwhelming pain could be. So he slung his shotgun over his shoulders by a sling, and climbed out of the truck. He let a plastic case and a flask full of water fall into his hands from his mist pocket, and walked up to Val’s door.

Valerie. Morden opted to use the telepathic spell connecting them all through Gerard, so she didn’t have to speak, and so they could do so without the princess of Vangar eavesdropping. He calmly sat the case down on the hood of the truck, and withdrew a dose of mist-burn medicine.

You are suffering mist burn. Be still. Breathe, compose yourself. Stepping around the pool of blood, he opened the door with uncanny gentleness for a brick shithouse of a man like himself. This will only take a moment.

X-Men: GenetiX

Ryder, being the feral little shit that she was, mostly stood down when the old man in the helmet referred to this place as Genosha. She viewed the entire world through monitors and screens. She could be within hundreds of feet of any device with a connection to the internet, and find her way to any place that existed through that. Ryder was smarter than she looked, she knew the name of almost every country out there by heart.

“Genosha” didn’t ring a bell.

The sheer curiosity of that was water to the flames. A “sanctuary” for mutants sounded utterly fucking worthless to her, having grown up in a “sanctuary” for mutants her whole life.

But more importantly, she needed to find Cyclops. So she played along, and let Magneto walk away. Without saying a word, she walked off of the landing pad, and into the so-called paradise itself.

I know you can hear me. You’re somewhere in this city. I don’t know where. Figure something out before the fuckwit in the helmet makes a move.

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

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Location: Who the Fuck is Baldur
Skills:
WHAT. THE. FUCK.

---

---

Walking into the room, Leah didn’t immediately see anything dangerous. She never liked labs. Hell, she grew up in one. And to that end, she more or less had an understanding of the flow that all this shit in here had. The fleshy wires, the console, the people strapped to tables. It told her there was some sort of experiment going on. ”Nobody move,” she said, being the tank. Leah hefted her new axe over one shoulder and walked towards the people. She made sure not to trip or step on the “cables” as she did so. Looking them over, Leah snapped her fingers in their faces, and noted they didn’t react much.

The voices pounding on those pods confirmed something for her. ”…Madalyne. You said there were supposed to be monsters in here called “Intellect Devourers?” I’m taking a guess they don’t exactly plant flowers and dance in circles given their names. So is there any reason at all we should open those pods and free what I’m assuming is something pretending to be a person?”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Everyone

Kari's house

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It seemed to work out pretty okay. Up until the moment the thing’s leg went boom. Stormy didn’t get roasted by the fire, but he did notice that the fucking monster was tipping over… So that was the point. Stormy had better ideas than getting flattened, so he threw out the Iron Fortress, and heard the monster bang against the surface. He could’ve leapt out of the way, but it was so huge and unruly that it might’ve crushed him anyway. Stormy couldn’t see out of the dome, so he could only use the sound of banging against the Iron Fortress to know whether or not it was still leaning over the side. Of course, he had very little to worry about here, but there was always the risk that if he dropped the spell, it would just fall down on him.

Looking at the wet ground, Stormy noticed something got in the dome with him. A strange pink smoke that was rising upwards. He didn’t have a chance to react before it was in the air. As little as it was, he still inhaled it and felt… Fine.

”Thanks.”

Stormy spun around, instinctually focusing more on the dome than the people in it. There were six of them. His friends who he kept alive all those years ago. It was all so difficult when they were kids, but Stormy always came through. He recognized the people taking shelter in the Iron Fortress. They all found their way in life, thanks to Stormy, who always came through. And now they were in the dome because… He came through.

He always came through. What kind of protector didn’t?

A smile crept over his face. ”Not a problem. Just sit tight, we’ll be out of here soon. And then the drinks are on me, alright?”

The myriad faces- not six but ten- smiled at him. They were weary from battle, but they were alive. Stormy was to thank for that. All seventeen of them were safe in his watch.

”8th Street are just bullies. Once they cool off, they won’t hurt anyone.”

All thirty of them nodded.

”I’ll never let any of you get hurt.”

The entire coven smiled on him. His Iron Fortress sheltered them all.

Every last one.

Interactions: The Sycamore Tree Coven

The All-Verse

---

Jack strode across the cosmos as one did the hallways of their childhood home. All around him, the stars, nebulas and galaxies of distant realms bled together as a watercolor canvas. Every step he took landed on the foundation of the ever-shifting heavens, and rang out to echo in tune with the song of stellar motion. Mundane minds watched birds flutter through an atmosphere of oxygen, and Jack watched young planets drift through the breadth and bow of firmament. Along his path, unknowable to all but himself, the All-Verse was well and truly alive.

It is difficult to know the All-Verse if one only studied Shimmer, difficult to understand the galaxy when one only studied Earth’s solar system. Further was it difficult to understand the human race if one only studied one continent. To know the grand design of existence came with the territory of experiencing it all. Every star in every night sky, every grain of sand on shores where there was wonder everlasting to be witnessed. He wore time and the entropy of creation as a cloak, distillations of space washed away and were brought to bear as stepping stones along his journey.

The All-Verse lay before Jack, infinite as tangled yarn and yet ordered as a staircase. And utop the stairs was his destination.

Home.

He was like a god, and the All-Verse parted as such. He waved a shaded hand out before him, and the malleable clay that humans called existence became water; A cascade outwards, molding the abstract into order. Jack walked through the order, and felt the familiar caress of gravity. The swell of molecules in his throat. The friction of sunlight.

Down from infinity, and into the finite, where home lies: St. Portwell. The cosmos melted away, and he stood within a well-lit room. Walls of dark oak, rising outwards into familiar architecture. He walked through a door, and into a hallway, down a flight of stairs lit by purple candlelight, to the meeting hall. A rectangular room, with a long table, where the his guests sat.

Drake Blackmore. Anya Baksh. Kari Wilson. Sloane Faris. Kenshiro Murakin. Luca Olivera. Reza Cabrera, and so many others.

”Thank you all for coming,” Jack announced, walking one step forward, and appearing at the head of the table. Behind him, a wall illuminated itself with the symbolism of a sycamore tree.

”As you all know, today marks one year after we defeated the apparition known as Father Wolf. And so, today, we remember those who did not come as far as us. We remember the struggles and the triumphs that are unequivocally our own.”

”Today, we rejoice in honor of all we have become. Make yourselves at home.”