Carnic

Darkling: The Night War

Zeiss Calavan

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Zeiss figured it would be an easy path back to her workshop; she simply needed to retrace her steps, she'll end up at the little bar, then she can figure out the way from there. She had done a bit more talking that she had intentded tonight, but again it was always nice to get a change of pace. Walking down the cobblestone street, she figured that this must be an old part of town. The road was uneven and the some of the buildings were in need of exterior renovation. Chipped paint across some billboards showed the extent of the war within the Rebel Section; everyone was so busy that they lost sight of aesthetics. Not like Zeiss could say anything about it, she was always cooped up in her little study trying to make the greatest magic of all time.

As she turned around the bend, she heard loud rumbling coming from nearby. She turned her head quick enough to see entire building collapse, debris and dust from the weary concrete blowing up into the sky. She watched the billowing of smoke as it drifted into the sky, but really didn't feel like checking it out; buildings getting destroyed in war; what were the odds? She let out a little 'hmph' and continued on here merry way, going down the street about the three blocks away.

Then she heard a scream; startled by the sudden noise, she swerved her head in that direction. A man with scraggly dirty blond hair was chewing into what appeared to be a young woman with short black hair. Zeiss narrowed her eyes, she really didn't need to see any dirty foreplay on a brisk night. The woman noticed her and reached out a hand, possibly calling for help. Zeiss was ready to hand wave the situation and leave until the blond man turned, grabbed the woman's head, and blasted fire right through her ear and out the other end. As the woman's side was completely blown away and melted, she collapsed, viscera splattering onto stone as the manturned to her. Zeiss turned her bulging eyes from the woman's disfigured features to the man's and realized he didn't look any better. He mouth was charred black with ash and soot caused by the elemental fire that gushed out of his mouth, his left eye burning like lava and almost melting out of his sockets. His teeth were ragged and sharp, blackened by the fire, and Zeiss realized he wasn't using any magic protection on himself for the abilities he was spewing.

"What in the hell?" she stammered. The wizard pointed with a blacken finger and a wild toothy grin stating "LaaAaAddYyy" before rushing at her, his skin bulging and pussing with blacken sores and fire. Zeiss did what she was capable of, and dashed down the street screaming.

Not looking to corner herself, she turned down the block to a more open pavilion, and saw a scene right out of the portraits of Hell. It was chaos here; Lycans, Vampires, Wizards, and Warlocks all duking it out in the main street, some appearing more feral than others. One's skin was bulging forward, like a cancerous tumor, which Zeiss knew as a side effect of using enchantment magic to an explosive degree, while a werewolf with ragged, wasp-nest-like holes sprouting from its skin trying to put down one of its own kind. In some way, this was worse than a dead end; it was being stuck between a rock and a terrifying lava rapist. She looked back to see the man still coming to pursue her and ran down one of the less crowded pathways pulling out her phone.

"C'mon, c'mon you little shit, pick up!" Zeiss heard the click and the murmuring of a drowsy but cutely feminine voice respond back to her:

"Hello, you're talking to Master Aesir's wo-"

"Sarah, get your ass in high gear or so help me I'm gonna be coming for you. And not in the way you probably will want!"

The girl made a little yelp and can be heard stumbling from her perch of a bed and tumbling out of her attic door, coming out of her drowsiness in a very panicked manner and a 30 foot drop to the workshop floor. Zeiss heard her stand up straight immediately afterward and replied, "Master Aesir! I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you, I just-I-what-it's 10 pm, what's goin-"

"No time, I need you to teleport all my Stasis weapons to me right now! I'm stuck having to deal with something I REALLY didn't want to deal with tonight!

"Roger, but what should I do about the deliveries-"

"If I'm not alive to be the one to do it, then fuck 'em; my life is more important right now! I'm sending you my coordinates! Don't call me back, I'll call you!"

She ended the call and kept running while side stepping a pillar of fire that bursted in front of her. She quickly pulled out her standard dagger and carved the rune 'Ehwaz' into the stone of the street. She slapped her hand onto the seal and a faint blue light pulsed into the street, off to signal Sarah of her location. Zeiss strained to keep herself in check, her body wasn't used to normal rune magic anymore and her hand started to spasm. She clutched it and turned to find the fiery, rabid man towering above her. She rolled to the side as the man blew flame down on where she was, and struggled to stand up; she wasn't a fighter, she's a magician. So was he, but this kind of berserk strength is something she wasn't capable of dealing with. The man grabbed her and pushed her against a wall, but she kicked him off with all the physical strength she could muster, causing him to tumble back.

"I'm not going down without a fight, you motherfucker. I'm worth more than you can dream of..." The man just smiled at that comment, and walked at her slowly, relishing her anxiety as it bubbled up to the surface like the sores on the man's skin. Zeiss had no weapon on her, her knife being dropped near the fire he spewed on the floor, so she can only strain for a miracle.

"CAN SOMEONE HELP ME OVER HERE?!"

"How can I not, with a fair girl such as youself crying for help?"

Zeiss peered out of her terror to see the fiery wizard being hit with a blade so hard you can hear the bones shattering on impact from the blunt side of the weapon. The man flew 20 feet into the air before crumpling onto the ground like a crunched up paper wad, very much dead as he burned in his own magic. Zeiss turned to her right, then having to look up at the Goliath that towered before her. In the fire and lamp light, he looked less like a man and more like her idea of what Prometheus would look like. If Prometheus wore a light blue tunic and beige khakis. The man scratched his stubble and grinned warmly at Zeiss, as if this was a common day occurrence for them. His green eyes twinkled with a Santa-like joy as he stooped down to her level to look at her evenly.

"Sorry, I'm new in town; is this how it usually is around here?", he gently asked, his voice carrying a rich Welsh accent.

Zeiss brushed her frazzled hair out of her face and snorted, "Not particularly, and I don't plan on staying either."

The man nodded, "Right, you look much too casual and weak to be on a battlefield such as this; excuse me." He then pushed forward toward the billowing tower of smoke Zeiss saw earlier, leaving her with an expression of shock and offense.

"Excuse me?! Oh, I'll show you how 'weak' I can be, swordsman." The way the man had so nonchalantly called her out on running irked her, and she was definitely going to show him how wrong he was. It might just be pride, but it was HER pride, damn it. Also she might be a little bit more interested in this phenomenon and having a super soldier with her was very ideal for the situation at hand. She saw a light blue glow as her usual handbag appeared at the previous sigil's location, and she picked it up while striding up to take even pace with her 'savior'. The man was at least a foot above her, looking less like a hero and more like a hiker with a passion for a great sword. While the man still had a carefree attitude about him, he looked very much within his element.

"So, what are you supposed to be, the Jolly Blond Asshole?" Zeiss aked coldly.

The man laughed with no trace of malice in his voice, "No, no, nothing like that; I'm just here to join the war. Fresh, young warriors being passionate is a passion of mine you see, and I've never participated in much group work, so this'll be a fun exercise."

Zeiss scoffed at the idea of anything like this being called a simple exercise, "Can I get a name? I'm...the Witch of Isa." She had always been wanted to be addressed that way.

The man turned his head to her with a firm expression on his face, looking almost calculating in the light of the fire that began to burn through the houses as more wizards seemed to go mad with power. "I am known by many things. The Druid of Cu Sith, the Berserker of the Draig, the Heir of Camulodunum. The fae make fun of me, call me King Arthur due to my given name. But I'm referred to by many as the Mountain's Wind. It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance, Witch of Isa."

Darkling: The Night War

Slot for Carnic NPCs

Sarah Benson

Name: Sarah Benson

Age: 18

Race: Witch Warlock

Faction: Rebel (mainly Zeiss)

Appearance: Sarah is 5’2”. 110 lbs, and has a BWH measurement of 33-30-37 inches. Her chocolate brown skin has a few copper freckles across her cheeks, nose, and shoulders. Her limp black hair is usually tied behind her in a ponytail using a light blue hairpin, but loose it goes down to just below her shoulders. Her face is heart shaped, with a sharp chin and softened but prominent cheekbones. She has a rounded nose, thin eyebrows, and young, adventurous eyes that always like to dart to something new or shiny. Her eyes in particular are a pale blue that shifts into lavender under the shade, almost glowing in the dark that gives her the impression of an exotic feline. Her prominent lips tend to rest in a pout. Her teeth are more yellow than she’d like, so she tends to speak without showing her mouth, usually covering it with a hand or book. Her fingernails used to be much more ragged, but Zeiss has made it part of her schedule to make sure they are nicely manicured, usually with a light pink polish. She doesn’t have a lot of energy but her thin arms and legs are useful for climbing to grab books on tall shelves even though Zeiss tells her to use a ladder for once. With her clothes, it’s hard to tell that she hasn’t been eating much and she doesn’t like heavy foods, though Zeiss has been getting her to snack on things from time to time so she might have chip crumbs on her face most of the time. From her younger days, she has an intricately made rune tattoo written in old Celtic, though the magic on it has died out and now shows off as a faint imprint on her skin.

Sarah lives in Zeiss’ workshop, so her clothes are bought by Zeiss, leading to some shenanigans with her wardrobe, generally in the realm of clothes that Zeiss doesn’t feel fit her look but fit Sarah. Sarah gets very attached to the clothes that she has, and ends up wearing the same outfit for days simply because she likes it. Her usual work clothes are a white turtleneck and black yoga pants, with a black sports bra and white underwear as contrast. The turtleneck also conceals a magically sealed collar that Zeiss hasn’t tried to get off yet. She tends to be barefoot but is a fan of sneakers when going out for a walk, and has an expensive coat from when Zeiss got drunk and spent too much on a fancy warlock outfit for her. Other than that, Sarah uses a burlap backpack to carry things around and silver bangles on her wrists as accessories.

Personality: Sarah tends to go on autopilot and work on a ‘order-execute’ state of mind so that she doesn’t make any offside comments about Zeiss during work. She likes to be useful, efficient, and out of the way, though Zeiss usually wants to wrap her up in some kind of narrative in the grand scheme of Stasis Magic. With clients and strangers she comes off as meek, constantly hiding her mouth and making sure that she’s preoccupied with some other chore so that she doesn’t have to make eye contact. Even so she is very bright, and is able to relay back any information back as long as she gets a minute to process it. In her more lax state, she continues her studies by reading up on the books that Zeiss gives her, and generally being a bookish type in her room in the upper floor (which the only entrance to is a hatch on the ceiling of the workshop, which is about a 30 foot drop). She likes taking care of herbs like oregano and mint, and practices her stasis magic on them so that they can stay fresh longer, her room now acting as a greenhouse for all sorts of plants. She has an appreciation of life of all kinds unlike her teacher, and works to promote the use of magic as a tool for comfort rather than violence. She opposes the war for the brutality caused by it, but finds herself siding with the Rebellion because they allowed her a safe in to magic in the form of Zeiss.

Her relationship with her teacher is supposed to be that of a teacher and their apprentice, but due to Sarah’s social ineptitude it usually comes off as a master and servant. Sarah finds her mind stuck in the past, and Zeiss doesn’t seem to care as long as it progresses her work. She does many of the menial chores for Zeiss and being the guinea pig of her stasis experiments if they don’t have any one around to play with. Still, Zeiss does take make sure she’s living properly and dotes on her affectionately, even if she excuses it as ‘grooming a proper successor to her research’. Sarah’s rune origin is Celtic Ogham, so it becomes more of them bickering back and forth on how to translate the runic incantations due to Zeiss’ runic origin being Norse Futhark. Still, she loves her master, eventually developing to a crush that she feels needs to be hidden.

Background: To be blunt, there’s a lot of illegal activity that goes on in Darkworld, but many things parallel human history and behavior. Slavery is something that has occurred for generations for both human and Darkworld, and Sarah Benson’s family was used for that particular purpose. The constitution of their bodies was more aligned with the magic of the World due to their bloodline, with vast mana reserves that allowed them to do extraordinary things. Lesser Warlocks and Wizards coveted this and formed a union to bring them down and use their mana for themselves. They were attached with runes that coursed their mana into their owners, and with it came a plethora of magical advancements. Sarah wasn’t exactly unhappy with the life she was born into; after all, it was all that she ever knew. She was taught language and societal behavior by her masters in order to camouflage her as a normal citizen, her parents isolated from her once she was able to think on a general level. It is because of this that she doesn’t understand the concept of family.

In 2006, a crackdown on slave regulation occurred and a raid was performed on this magic union by Darkworld nobleman who sympathized with those placed in captivity. Sarah was separated from her family, a man and a woman too broken by the events in their lives to even raise a child within society, and she became an orphan. Her journey led her to Meridian before the war occurred, and when the conflict heated up, she used the opportunity to become a thief. She didn’t know how to use magic, but she made due with what she could grab because of her innate agility (not knowing that she was using Augmentation Rune Casting). Zeiss would meet her a week into her stay within the Rebel Sector, having found her stealing a crate of pretzels that were coming in that morning for the vending machines near the gym Zeiss worked out at. After a small tussle, Zeiss managed to use her stasis magic to catch her, and did a quick DNA rune check to see if she was anything worth troubling herself with. In the end, she was. Zeiss came forward to her employers that having an apprentice with such gifts should not be allowed to go to waste, and boisterously claimed that within the Rebellion, it might as well be ‘finders, keepers’. Zeiss patched up Sarah and gave her spiffy new clothes to showcase her new class, even though she was not used to it. And so they are here in the present, working to Zeiss’ goal for the advancement of magic. Sarah felt this contract was similar to her former one, but in this case, she at least has the choice to walk out and be a thief again.

Skills/Abilities: As a part of an ancient lineage of great magicians and warlocks, many of Sarah’s gifts are inherited. She has a large amount of mana at her disposal, but still has difficulty using it due to her not being allowed to practice it as a slave. Her origin runes are Celtic (actually known previously as Ogham), and she has mainly used only one during her time as a thief: Dair, meaning oak, for Augmentation Rune Casting. It is the one rune that her mother taught her within their cell, more as a principle of fortitude rather than any kind of magic. Sarah learned how to place this rune by carving it into her skin on her arms and legs, allowing her increased strength, speed, and agility. She has no proper training in basic runes, but has been learning since her capture by Zeiss, understanding pneumonic and warding runes while researching Stasis magic. The primary words used within what is now called Celtic Stasis magic is ‘Spas’ (space) as a way of conceptualizing the incantation, and ‘Berkana’ (birch), as the ‘b’ of both Ogham and Futhark hold the same meaning, crossing the bridge of runes. If Zeiss has to create an analogy, it’s as if Futhark is the central trunk of the tree of Stasis Magic, while Celtic Stasis Magic is a branch of it using Ogham that had to be grafted on.

•Odi Spas: written as ‘mucoi Ogham Dagda Ibhar Uath Beith dair mucoi dair tongu Ibhar Spas Berkana Isa’, is what is used in Celtic Stasis magic as its base. The change in language is very essential to its usage, and Zeiss discovered that Celtic Stasis affect flora more than fauna while Norse Stasis magic is more suited to living creatures. This has the same usage as ‘Rae Isa’ except that while ‘Isa’ has an aftereffect of having the target feel colder after coming out of the stasis, ‘Odi Spas” makes the target feel warmer and comforted. While her master can only maintain the full incantation for half an hour, due to Sarah’s mana reserves she can maintain it for up to eight hours without much effort.

•Tris Odi Spas: written as ’Tut raddassodd tris ditrebaki dislondetun do bitu, mucoi Ogham Dagda Ibhar Uath Beith dair mucoi dair tongu Ibhar Spas Berkana Isa’, is a Stasis magic Sarah discovered that only exists within the Celtic Stasis magic repertoire. It can be considered a ‘chain stasis’ ability, as it can target up to three different targets and apply stasis to them in a feedback loop, turning the targets into their own battery of stasis until the user applies the release command. The targets simply need to have the rune of ‘tris’ applied to them to become a part of the chain, but the must have the full incantation on a piercing object, similar to Ani Rae Isa. This magic is less effective on Lycans, Wizards, and Druids due to their affinity with the Earth, but partial stasis from the neck down should allow the magic to be as strong as average stasis. This usually lasts for half an hour, though Sarah hardly uses it as she does not like to see others bound in invisible chains.

•The Celtic type Stasis runes can be set to a different time using the ‘ruis’ and ‘bledaniyas’ runes, which Sarah actively uses in order to preserve certain seeds and stop plants from rotting once it is out of season for them.

•The release command of Celtic Stasis is ‘mati ad tayomas’ for flora and inanimate objects; Sarah doesn’t care to use it much on other people, but Zeiss has done the research for her. For Lycans, the release command is ‘mati ad tamoyas conroicht’, but if the Lycan is older than 100 years old, you must use ‘mati ad tamoyas Faoladh’. ’mati ad tamoyas neamh-mairbh‘ is used on Vampires while ’mati ad tamoyas uiras‘ works on magicfolk (Druids, Wizards, and fellow Warlocks).

Enchanted Objects/Equipment: She has none, and has sworn only to act in self-defense. Zeiss finds this stupid since they are in the middle of a war, but doesn’t enforce anything on her.

Other Information: She likes the term ‘Warlock’ much better than ‘Witch’, and always wants to be addressed as such. Zeiss obliges her simply because a part of her agrees.

-Her favorite snack is Lay’s Potato Chips, particularly salt and vinegar flavors. Close second is Bugles corn snacks.

Vaso Vinland

Name: Vaso Vinland, code name [Magic Killer]

Age: 138 (physically mid 20s)

Race: Wizard

Faction: Darkworld

Appearance: Vaso is about 5'10, 170 pounds, and has a BWH measurement of 40-37-43. When in casual life, he makes an effort to appear like any normal man, which is somewhat difficult when your hair is bleach white. His bangs tend to get in the way of his eyes, but it never seems to be a problem for him. His hair is silky and a bit unruly on the back of his head like duck down. Dour, baggy eyes hang from a slanted forehead and a furrowed brow, as if he’s always looking at something that irks him. A strong jawline and less than prominent cheekbones surround an aquiline nose and thin, slightly chapped lips. Because of the nature of his magic, his skin smells like oxidizing metal and a light gray melatonin is encroaching across his body, the last remaining bits of his pale skin left are patches near his right eye and down the left side of his torso and leg. His eyes are the same gray, though at certain angles you can still see the dark blue that used to be there.Sometimes it looks as though his skin wriggles like thousands of feelers or his eyes seem to be more like windows into something beyond human grasp, but blinking seems to make those effects go away. He tends to wear clothes that match his monochromatic completion , generally a white scoop-neckline shirt, gray skinny jeans, and a black unbuttoned cardigan.

When he’s on the job, his concealment magic makes him into quite the imposing visage. He wears a long black overcoat, opened up to give his legs running room. Black gloves cover his hands and he adorns his feet with black socks and combat boots. He wears a mandarin-collared gray dress shirt with Gothic-styled silver lining and a darker grey vest; underneath is another vest made of Kevlar. He wears black pants made of a light fabric, with a silver belt around his waist. Underneath that is a full black body suit, covering the bottom of his face with a breathable fabric that forms around the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Removing the mask would reveal an insectoid-like mouth, made primarily to invoke fear into his opponent and distract them from his goal. Sometimes large tentacles and slugs appear to spill out of his mouth, but he never seems to recall them or being part of his concealment algorithm. Black, ornate tattoos seem to adorn his cheeks and arms, giving him an unearthly feel. His hair glows with a supernatural light, and his eyes make it as if the moon had been plucked from the sky and turned into two pupils of radiance. His sclera darkens slightly, as well.

Personality: Vaso is a quiet fellow, listening but never speaking unless directly addressed. This fits in line with his occupation as an assassin; he acts and doesn’t question it as long it fits his needs and fills a paycheck. This does not mean he doesn’t have a lot to say, but he finds it easier to just go with the crowd until it’s time to do his dirty work. He already severed ties with family long ago, fading into the Darkworld as an anti-magic specialist. Ironic it may be to use spellcraft known as ‘anti-magic’, but he finds it allows him to reach his objectives and that’s just fine with him; as long as it works is a motto he lives by. On the job, he is a ruthless killer, never hesitating to take the quickest path to extermination. Because he doesn’t want his usual targets to know of his location, he lives in the Vampire Section in an apartment complex on the 14th floor.

That is not to say he doesn’t have other interests either. He’s a big fan of cafes, trying different brews and listening to other people talk. He has a Russian Blue cat named Jekyll who he keeps in his apartment, though it sometimes follows him outside and hangs out on his shoulder like some kind of bird. His quick go-to snack is senbei, so he just has whole jars full of them in his apartment (not like he’s done any decorating; it looks almost the same as when he came in). While his work in generally in the city, he enjoys the countryside more, and enjoys the time he spent with Jekyll in the meadows near his old home on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia.

His reasoning for staying within Darkworld comes from a quote he saw on TV, as mundane as that is: “death is always more frightening when it strikes invisibly”. Fear is an aspect of life that must always be held close to the heart, and losing fear can only mean that the world would grow lax and safe. This is especially true for the human world, those higher up believe themselves to be immortal and above others. The Darkworld is the ceiling to humanity, and it is a line that should not ever be crossed. To maintain that order, he stands as one who will always be there to instill fear and keep humanity and Darkworld citizens in line as their judge, jury, and executioner. The Council has proven they are strong time and time again, and in the face of a Rebel force it still shows no signs of wavering. For Vaso, the Rebellion stands for a shift in equilibrium between the natural order of the light and the dark, the transparent and the obscured. As someone perfectly comfortable with the occupation he holds, he’d rather not have another force trying to bring him into the light.

Background: The man known as Vaso Vinland hasn’t really changed much from his younger self, an average kid who found himself on a path and simply followed in line like many others. He had two fathers and an older sister who all lived their lives and people he eventually distanced himself from. He always had two friends in each year of his school life. He had a lover or two before eventually deciding against it. The boy saw it all with a dulled sense of apathy. He didn’t see the world as black and white, nor right and wrong, but in an infinite monochrome that eventually made him physically color blind, unable to see red and green light. Eventually, the only thing that made him feel anything was seeing any color, as the only thing that stood out was his blue eyes. There’s was nothing wrong with that lifestyle; simply that from an outsider’s perspective, it’s pretty drab until he turns to a life of crime and eventually becoming a legal assassin working under the Dark Council. Vaso had been influenced by magic at an early age; usually it was concealment magic as his father used it to make funny faces to him as a child. Eventually it grew and he learned of others who used it for different purposes. Then he went to a private wizard school where he learned the basics of magic and lethality. To Vaso, the events that led up to his current occupation were paced evenly; he didn’t really have any objections to going down this road, nor did he really support it. His emotions seemed dead from the get-go; so many people wanted him to join them in their ventures as a bodyguard/killing machine.

Right out of college he became a simple contract killer until the age of 24, where he discovered that magic could go beyond what he generally saw in the business. The elements that he viewed before this point from grand wizards did not impress him; he thought they were always too flashy and felt himself grow detached from spellcraft. But eventually, while touring Northern Ireland, he stumbled into a hidden cavern filled to the brim with shining blue crystals. The cavern had been crossed by several ley lines, imbuing the location with an absurd abundance of raw mana. He was enticed to go inside, and found after two hours of walking through he believed that the cave might have no end. Yet, he kept going, losing track of time, entranced by the length of the cave. Impossibly long. What happened next, he didn’t understand: all he knew was that he came into contact with something beyond the stars and the darkness, and he was given knowledge that granted him the ability to reflect magic onto its user. He was teleported out of the cave, and he woke up in a mountain range in New Zealand. But he did not press for knowledge on what he was given; he simply decided to use it.

With these new abilities, killing became almost like a civic duty; following orders and living comfortably. His skin had started to gray, but he never really noticed; everything was gray to him. He had dreams that seemed to pull his body somewhere else, feeling something so physically complex that the further he looked, the deeper the rabbit hole was. He chose to ignore them, in favor of more hours in his work. He adopted a cat that shimmered in blue, had a home up in Canada, and lived as he pleased until he was called in by a subsidiary of the Council to do some more dirty work.

And so he moved, and here he was.

A simple man who simply lived without purpose.

And didn’t care to find one.

The man was content, but the Rebels made it hard to live in that peace.

And so he did his civic duty.

Skills/Abilities: [Magic Killer] is a title that he has grown into over the years and he does his job with terrifying accuracy. First in his usual procedure is to observe the target for a week, a month at the maximum. This is usually done via magic tapping, enhancing his senses using magic seals that he would place within the person’s home to make it as if he was in the same room as them, coming off as a sensory astral projection. The next step is execution, using many varieties of tools and tricks:

•The magic is uses that gave him his notoriety is what he has dubbed Anti-Magic, which serves not to destroy magic that has been activated, but rather rewriting the spell so that it becomes destructive to the user. Unlike warlocks who use the written word, his brand of magic is spoken orally and from a similar power source to Zeiss’; Norse Falthark. Evoking the incantation of ‘Nauthiz’ causes the area around him become susceptible to his suggestion, amplifying the anti-magic within a Bounded Field around him at around 20 meters. It would then become a matter of learning the nature of the target’s self-defense tactics. If they have none, great; his job is easier. If they do, all he needs to do is match up the definition of the magic that they use with a Fulthark symbolic concept. This is usually done in the time he takes to observe them. Once he does so, the sigil is reversed and the magic is targeted toward his opponent rather than himself, often causing their own demise. There are ways around it, of course. If the opponent doesn’t use magic, then this ability won’t have any effect on them and he would have to use his other skills. Because of the nature of mana, this only affects other wizards and sorcerers; attempting to do so on any other type of magic like runes and druid magic causes his mind to strain to grasp the nature of their mana and debilitate him for a good while. Every time he uses this power, the gray skin seems to encroach on his body a little bit more.

•Vinkalda is an air-based magic that makes him completely silent, synchronized with his breathing. This manipulates the wind, muting sound by not allowing the air around him to reverberate. Holding his breath allows his movements to go unnoticed without any resistance to the wind. Exhaling makes his presence known, however, so timing on using this skill is key.

•Raidho is a specialized teleportation magic that he executes by using the Chinese concept of metal as an element. Under his mattress is a briefcase full of an assortment of guns, swords, and daggers, each of them having a drop of his blood stamped into the hilt or barrel. He connects his mind to the briefcase for a split second and, recalling the location of a weapon within that briefcase, teleports the object to his side. To prepare for that, he triple checks his weaponry and stock the day before he decides to fight. He can pull out the wrong weapon if he incorrectly remembers where he put a weapon, and the effectiveness of the weapon is lowered because of incorrect visualization. He can summon multiple at a time, but this can be a bit distracting to manage all of them. After the battle, he simply needs to say ‘Raidho’ without thinking about any particular weapon and all summoned weapons will go back into the briefcase where they were.

•Thurisaz is water-based illusionary magic; simply allows him to change his physical appearance. This is done by manipulating light and water vapor into a predetermined set of cosmetic changes. He uses this to disguise himself during missions.

Enchanted Objects/Equipment: Vaso has many weapons within his briefcase, to be prepared for many situations when combating fellow supernatural monsters. With each kill, he takes the victim’s equipment and strips them for magic that will allow him to kill other mages of similar type. He then adds it to the Arsenal, storing it in the briefcase under his mattress in his apartment. Currently, he has:

•Enchanted steel rapier, a personal favorite of his for one-on-one dueling. Being enchanted, it slices through magic like butter and it synchronizes well with his anti-magic. He’s augmented it even further by boiling it in a cauldron of many melted precious stones and different kinds of herbs. It lost about an inch off its original length, but gained a new ability to slow down the healing processes of its victims for 24 hours. He finds it very effective against non-magicfolk so it’s always a must-have in the Arsenal.

•A silver hunting dagger he took from a young werewolf. He can’t help but find the irony in a pup carrying around its own weakness.

•Portable shield, retractable to the length of his arm. Expanded, it can cover his whole torso. Used to protect himself from any volatile elements like fire, energy, and air magic.

•Finally, two guns; a magnum and a bolt-action rifle. Only the magnum comes with silver bullets; the rifle is mainly used for killing humans at long range. Still, it always does well to have support when working on a team.

Other weapons that he deems ineffective or less effective than his current Arsenal are generally sold on the black market: he isn’t going to miss them, that’s for sure.

Other Information: He enjoys watching space, though rejects the notions that humanity will ever find alien life by probing space. ‘Maybe they don’t want to be found’, he would laugh, his gray eyes suddenly looking like holes boring into his skull. He could stare at space all night long, but understands he has a job to do.

-He coughs up white blood cells from time to time, like the anti-magic he uses is rejecting his natural protection for more magic-based types. It never seems to impede his work or health condition, so he’s okay with it.

-His favorite food is different types of raw seafood, though he can be very picky about the taste. Likes octopus the most, particularly in the form of takowasa.

-He seems to have an aversion to mirrors, as seeing his own reflection causes migraines and severe headaches similar to the feedback he gets when incorrectly using his anti-magic.

Arthur Caufield

Name: Arthur Caufield, known as “The Mountain’s Wind”

Age: 89 (physically early-30s)

Race: Druid

Faction: Darkworld

Appearance: Arthur is 6’10, over 300 pounds, and has a BWH measurement of 55-50-53., showing himself to be quite a goliath of a man. His build is strong, packed with even proportions of fat and muscle that make seem more like the human version of a grizzly bear. His hands are hard and calloused from the training he had done since he was a young boy, and his legs feel as solid as stone. On top of a muscled neck is a strong jawline with a light blond 5 o’ clock shadow. His hair is tousled and swept to the left, and looks like a wheat field when it’s in the sunlight. He has a squared forehead, wrinkles stretching from his eyes, and sharp eyebrows that arc across his brow. His laugh is the boisterous type where his eyes become shut, and he lives his life just as loud. His skin is a bit tan from his time outside, and his green eyes twinkle with a merry glee.

He decides to go for a hiker look to fit his profession as a man of the land, though being in the bustling city of Meridian has made him change up his outfit slightly. He currently wears an evergreen tank undershirt and cream colored khaki pants to show off his arm and leg muscles. Two silver bangles adorn his biceps, depicting a dragon similar to the one tattooed onto his back. All of his essentials are on his back in a military-grade backpack, and he generally has no place to live unless someone offers him some refuge. His sword, named Caledgwynt, rests between him and the backpack in a shoulder sheath, which also has an attachment on it that allows him to wear it by his waist. He used to wear sandals everywhere, but in the city where people can step on your feet if you’re not careful he has replaced them with tight socks and sandy brown hiking boots.

Personality: At surface value, Arthur is your happy go lucky man who works out too much. He’s a fan of bars and drinking with allies, happy to be around the comfort of people once again. He wanders around the Sections of Meridian (sans the Rebel Section as he has no Ward Key) so that he could take in the sights and sounds of the city. He always tries to lighten a mood even if the people around him aren’t looking for it, but he can still read tension. He is prideful of his abilities, and always pushing others to be the best that they can achieve. He keeps up an air of strength and confidence, believing that looking back on the wrongs of the past is a foolish delusion to keep the soul from motivating itself.

Arthur is a man who acts out of his own righteousness. He fights for Darkworld simply because it would allow him to fight strong people; brave people willing to stake their lives to fight for their cause, damn the consequences. And that gets his blood boiling more than anything else. On another note, he does not want to expose the nature of Druid magic to humanity, believing that they would exploit it for their own means and drain it dry like the Earth’s already crippled resources. He would slay them for that reason; he’s already done it to so many.

Background: Arthur began life as a young lad living in the countryside of Colchester in the county of Essex, though he was taught by his parents to call it by its original name of Camulodunum. His mother was the daughter of a Roman Wizard who made his home here, and it was then that she met his Father, a Welsh Druid who had come east in search of a particular plant. Together they settled, working together to help each other by giving external perspectives on certain magic. They never married but then then had a child in 1926, and named him Arthur, after the king whose castle was rumored to be hidden somewhere in the area of Camulodunum.

Being a Druid in Colchester kind of sucks when the weather is dry and the land susceptible to drought, but Arthur never hated that lifestyle and remembers it fondly as memories with his parents. They were able to make a living given his mother’s water magic and his father teaching him about edible plants and hunting. Bringing life back to the parched land bought the attention of nearby fae, and Arthur’s dad had to quickly teach his son how to interact with them so that they couldn’t trick him into anything mischievous or costly. His dad also granted him the right to help enchant the blade that ran in their family, even if it currently had no name. Arthur believed his father to be the greatest Druid in the world, and he carried on the legacy that his father wanted for him by beginning his enchantment of the great sword he would eventually find the name for one morning: Caledgwynt; “The Harsh Wind of Camulodunum”.

His father died as a civilian casualty during World War II in 1944, Arthur becoming the man of the house at 18. He always hated the fact that he had to learn the fact secondhand, it left a sour taste that lasted a decade. He supported his mother until she finally died of a long lasting grief, but then wondered what he should do with his own life. He decided to follow the path his father wanted for him and, taking up the sword, decided to become a hero of justice, the friendly fae egging him on. The northern parts of Britain were harsh and housed many magical sects shifting in the dark doing dirty work, and it was time for Arthur’s legend to begin. Many of his battles were with werewolves, being able to stand the northern climate within the mountainous regions allowed them to pillage the farmlands below. Vampires were simpler to beat down, though he found their speed to be irritating due to his tank-like approach to combat. He even had to fight fellow magicfolk, which is when he learned his sword could never act against the kind that created it. At the peak of this mountain of corpses, he had gained many titles, though the one that eventually became the most well-known was ‘Mynyddgwynt’, or ‘The Mountain’s Wind’ as it would be secularly known. He wondered what his father would think, but then realized that his father never told him to become a hero. His father never told him to do anything other than live a satisfactory life. Arthur looked down from that mountain of corpses, and realized that there no going back as his hands were entrenched in the blood of his legend as a ‘hero of justice’.

It was October, 2014, two weeks prior to the beginning of this story, when Arthur finally came out of the isolated territory of the mountains to learn about the war from info that spread across the Darkworld. A new fire burned inside him, another conflict to extinguish after so long of wandering like the Cu Sith of the North. After having an associate bought him a ticket to America, Arthur is just now coming into the war, content to have something to use his strength upon once more.

Skills/Abilities: Most of the time, he doesn’t feel the need to use anything beyond durability magic; his innate training and tenacity make up for it, making him a capable tank to have in any party. Even so, when protecting others, he feels it is his duty to put in the best effort he has. This style is very much aligned with brute force, also having enough finesse to not attack his allies in the heat of battle. His sword is but an extension of his body; if it doesn’t work with the situation at hand, use any available limb like a fist or foot. It’s crude and a bit too straightforward compared to other soldiers in the War, and this is reflected in his use of magic.

His Earth Magic is just normal durability enhancements jacked up to 11. He does this by layering on several enchantments of Rock and Stone onto his skin. He layers, condenses, and turns the simplistic configuration into a Druid Symbol Array that can be defined as ‘Iron Hide’. While this can be done with 3 layers of Rock Enchantment, Arthur can put on up to ten, becoming a juggernaut of defense. His body becomes like the hardest alloys, and easy to push his way through most obstacles without stopping. While this allows him to go toe to toe with beasts, it is still a simple array. Most magic can still affect him in this form, so he can still be burned, buffeted by wind, and electrocuted. The skin might become hard, but internal damage is still a big factor to how he plays out a fight. Because of the nature of stone, he also becomes heavier as well, and liable to sinking or moving slowly. While he does have strength enchantments (primarily the Ox or Bull enchantments) to counterbalance this, he definitely still feels the effects due to a constant mana drain and physical fatigue. He can keep up the max enchantment for a half a day, but by the end he’ll want a cold shower and a beer.

While he’s quite the brute on offense, his actual abilities lie in being defensive support. If there’s anything his huge frame was good for, it was to be an intimidating meatshield. Iron Hide displays this by simply making him into a wall of impenetrable skin; it’s not inherently offensive. On top of this, he can use an enchanted area of effect defense magic known as ‘Ynys Afallach’, Allowing those within 10 feet of him to gain half of the enchantments he places on himself. This is much more draining on him, as he has to be the battery for their buff for the duration of the spell. He mainly uses this for sieging his opponents or as a diversion for others to do their mission. He can keep this up for ten minutes per burst, with a maximum of two hours if at full mana.

His most forceful trump card is evoking the dragon tattoo across his back, dubbing the state ‘Pendraig’ or ‘dragon chief’. Two conditions need to be met before he can activate this ability, he must be wearing his two shoulder bangles and he must take ten blows to the chest during the fight to, as he puts it, ‘stoke the fire’. Each time a blow hits, a part of the dragon tattoo on his back glows, and it deems whether the hit can be considered a solid blow. Once activated, it grants him the ability to create fire from his mouth to a certain extent as well as amplify his strength and reflexes a hundred fold. He becomes a hulking berserker that demolishes as many enemies as possible. While this state is extremely useful, it drains him for all his mana and he becomes useless on the battlefield; passing out immediately afterwards if he overexerted himself. At maximum charge, this can last for about five minutes, though he usually uses it as a last resort so it ends up only lasting about one.

Enchanted Objects/Equipment: The only weapon Arthur has and ever needed is a 15th century Oakeshott type XVIIIb steel great sword that he finished the enchantment to, meditating under a tree with it for years and allowing it to slowly become imbued with decades of constant mana conditioning from himself. His father had done same for the centuries he lived, and as lineage fell to Arthur he took on the mantle for providing this blade with magic until it finally become the ideal blade for the Druid. As Arthur is a Druid, the sword is saturated with potent nature magic; also helped that he meditated with it in a forested clearing blessed by the fae. They say that if the blade were to rest in the earth over a day, daffodils and posies would bloom on its surface no matter how matter how barren. It is a sword that cannot be used against fellow Druids and purely elemental magic wizards, and seems to shake in the presence of magic unknown to the nature of the Earth since 2005 when it had become completely enchanted (like Vaso’s anti-magic and Zeiss’ Stasis Magic). This is not to say that it is the commonly known material of enchanted steel, as the blade itself cannot cut through magic. As one saturated in Druid magic, it has several other abilities as well:

Caledgwynt, or ‘Hard Wind’, is the one ability the sword can use under Arthur’s control. Other Druid users may be granted different abilities according to their disposition and skill with the blade, but this ability is solely Arthur’s. Using the flat of the blade and calling upon the wingspan of a great condor, he can send a shockwave of air pressure at his opponent. It’s a fairly short range for a projectile (about 5 meters), but it can even disperse magic that is within that range. People within 1 meter of the blade will be pushed back if they are not the weight of an elephant and disorientate their senses due to the compressed air.

Other Information: He doesn’t have much of a palette for food, but he mainly eats mutton to keep up with his protein intake. He jokes that the sun allows him to restore his mana quicker, but nobody has tried to confirm or deny this fact.

-He doesn’t really understand the concept of money, but perceives that it is used to pay for goods and services. He doesn’t have any formal education either, and is a bit dyslexic.

-His accent is distinctively Welsh because of his father, and because he never actually had much interaction with other people it isn't very refined.

Scathach

Name: Eilísh, code name [Scathach]

Age: 203 (physically early 20s)

Race: Sorceress

Faction: Darkworld

Appearance: Eilish is 5’9”, about 145 pounds, and has a BWH measurement of 41-31-41, having a shapely hourglass figure. Her face has a diamond shape to it, with a broad forehead and expressive lips. She has thin eyebrows and her sharp eyes are a deep, saturated red, having a permanent glare to them due to her preferred expression of a scowl. She has soft pale skin akin to porcelain; as if blemishes were not allowed to mark her body other than a beauty mark on her right clavicle. She has thin wrists and her legs have been commented as dainty-looking, despite her true nature. Her straight burgundy hair parts on the left side of her head and curls a bit inward at the end, reaching down all the way to below her butt. She likes to style it in various braids and buns, but usually for casual times it is a ponytail tied at the nape of her neck with a light pink scrunchie.

Her casual wear both around the house and going outside is meticulous. Most of the time her outfit is a v-neck shirt of some kind and jeans of a color that accents the shirt. Other times it’s a tank top and shorts, and sometimes it’s a more formal like a princess vest on a white dress shirt and black business pants. Peplums and blouses are a personal favorite of hers to wear with any kind of shapely pants. She never wears the same clothes within two weeks of each other so to not look like she wears a limited array of clothing due to laziness or slack. She generally likes to wear a shawl on cloudy/windy days. She likes wearing heels because they make her taller, but always has a change of shoes in her handbag in case she needs to run at someone.

While Eilish is an assassin whose visage should be more about function than aesthetic appeal, she likes to dress to make herself look like the best; being an attractive winner is very important to her. Long, fingerless gloves reach up all the way to the top of her biceps, her index and middle fingers having ruby rings to keep the glove in place. A sleeveless dark violet Chinese dress with flame-like designs and cut at the knees adorns her top while a translucent silk cloak covers her shoulders. Silver, flower-patterned earrings are placed on each ear and a bit of dark mascara accent her eyes and their bloody color. A princess braid crosses over the back of her head and a looser braid flows down her back. Loose and light black Chiffon pants with a pinkish-red belt, as well as dark pantyhose, cover her legs and tight, durable, black water shoes are breathable and easy on her soles with certain enchantments. While mainly for fashion reasons, all of these clothes are weaved with magic enchantments to make her fast and durable, numbing pain so that she can focus on her mission rather than flinch from the damage.

Personality: Eilish is what many would call a ‘bitch’; an irritable and prideful character, unable to take criticism or compliments from both friend and foe alike. Her heart is closed-off, seeing insults as direct offenses and compliments as arrogant and selfish in their own right. All you can do to be on her good side is to agree with her on the rare moments she praises herself, or to say nothing at all.

She can be a very demanding character in both her professional and personal life, pointing out precise details that bother her and her alone and will throw away anything that she deems defective. She is just as hard on herself as she is with others, having thrown away many spells that sees as incapable of doing what she wants executed at 110%. Much of this stems from a lifetime’s worth of abuse, seeing any misstep in the way of progress more like a tumble down the stairs. She can be brash, insensitive, cruel, and an insecure child, and understands that this isn’t normal behavior for anyone, but it’s all the identity she can cling to until she can put herself back together again.

While this bleeds into her professional career, she is still very efficient at her job and gets paid handsomely for the missions that she takes. She has standards to the type of jobs that she collects, and that makes her keep a strict client profile in order to make sure everything goes swimmingly. The only times she has failed in her objectives is if the client themselves made a mistake, and Eilish makes sure that that mistake is a fatal one. If you want to work with her, try not to make her miss her shot.

She has a hard time trusting others, and it could be a full two months of constant interaction before she get the inkling to look at you. Food from others is definitely out of the question, and attempting to force her into things will definitely lead to retaliation.

She is an associate of Vaso’s, being the one to inspect his weapons once in a while as her eye for precision is much more capable than his. As a fellow assassin, they have gone on missions together once or twice, and she appreciates that he’s quiet and doesn’t make things hard for her. Other than him, she has never played with others well. Vaso himself recognizes her as someone who can understand his ideology, and believes her to be a useful partner in his objectives.

Background: Eilish doesn’t remember much from her previous existence; it’s all very splintered and ragged. She remembers that the young girl was an only child, a bit of a chubby girl who got a lot of attention from her parents and friends. She had a love for drawing with crayons and climbing onto shelves just to see if she could. If she couldn’t, she would cry and her mom would have to come to soothe her, and the girl could recall the faint smell of clover that came from her mother’s apron while cooking food. She remembers her father as a courteous man, one who didn’t show a lot of emotion but always made time to smile for her even if he was busy working. A distinct memory that stuck for no odd reason is when her father got a package from a postman at the door. He always sounded so professional, with his back straight and writing down his signature. The life of that girl was one of mediocrity, but it was a good life to live without anything inherently wrong with it. She was then abducted at the age of 6, and she never heard of her parents ever again.

The cult was Gaelic, something that Eilish learned after deep study, known as Serglige Con Ulster; an unholy allegiance of Lycans, Warlocks, and Druids, who praised the Old Irish myths to a fervent degree. The ultimate goal was to resurrect their beloved figures, and bring about a rebirth of the legends that had been forgotten by others. That young girl didn’t really understand that, she just wanted to go home and be her parents. Still, with coercion and plenty of manipulation, they agreed to free her once ‘her checkup has been cleared out’, much like a doctor’s appointment. This was, of course, nothing but a pipe dream. In truth, they had kidnapped many children, looking to condition them into appropriate vessels for the symbols of their obsessions. Eilish made friends there, and as they were put through rigorous routines and downright abusive behavior, they knew that someday it would be worth it.

The 20th century rolled in, and so did chemical testing. Wizards entered into the cult as well, and their manipulation of the elements led to a change of structure in the vessel’s testing. New practices were tested that exponentially increased the death rate of the failing vessels, and all the little girl could do was take it as she did not have the strength to fight back. All that really kept her going is the lamplight near her stone bedside. In the world of a cold and miserable world, warmth could be found in even the deepest dungeons. Even so, her mind continued to erode and crack until could barely remember a life beyond the torture that she continued to endure.

The cult learned of her mage heritage from the fact that she did not age much, as were pleased to finally find another being of magic to test upon, particularly one with her wealth of mana reserves. It came down to medical testing and violent rituals to make her body submit to their desires, and decades finally shattered the last remnants of the life she had. Around the end of the second World War, the cult had broken down her psyche enough so that she was easily manipulated to change, being a blank slate for their own needs, and so they began their ritual. The main ritual that had been constructed by ancient Warlocks and Druids, with the main purpose being to bring back the spirit of the Earth using Druid magic, then switching to runic magic to bind that visage to the vessel using the Runic incantation. Wizards would then construct an earthen seal around the vessel, to allow it to incubate until the soul of their legendary hero can bind with the vessel completely. As different magicfolk their abilities could not be merged, but they are rather separate steps within a whole process; completely unstable but the best chance they had. For the girl who looked no older than 12 and long burgundy hair, they gave her the privilege to be the vessel to be merged with the one known as the warrior maiden of shadows, Scathach.

The ritual was deemed as a success by the cult once she was encased within the rock, and it became only a matter of waiting for the time when their hero will come back into reality. Scathach was indeed summoned back into the world, at least, in an astral spirit form, and her consciousness seeped into the girl below. However it was not only her psyche that fed into the vessel, but her rage. Rage at the idea of the people who idolized her would cause harm to such a naïve soul that had so much space to grow, anguish from having to be a part of that ritual, and the misery of an existence that couldn’t do anything but watch it unfold. This struck a chord with the young vessel, which still had pangs of emotion however vacant they might be. This stimulation of resentment and anger welled up inside the vessel instead, filling the cup before the whole identity of the warrior maiden could be completely injected. After ten days of incubation, the young girl broke her way out of the earthen seal, and stared at the people who were in awe of the sudden radiance in her eyes. Because of this, they were not prepared for the sudden blasts of ferocious energy that came out of the young girl. She may not have been able to understand magic entirely, but she could conceptualize the image of fire, and so fire filled the chamber filled with many of the members of the cult, and filled their very organs with the flames of vengeance. Many tried to push back the flames, but no matter how they attempted to, they were blown back by ripples that came not only from the vessel, but the spirit of Scathach that allowed the girl to be able to pour out such a ridiculous amount of life energy and mana. After a half hour of their base being constantly saturated in flame, there was nothing left but the ash and soot of the compound. The vessel was spent, the spirit that was supposed to be bound to her gone after the Druid magic had stopped being supplied. She collapsed in the debris of charred bodies and mangled corpses, hearing the distance steps of many things approaching.

The filled vessel woke up in a chapel in London, reborn with no scars or blemishes or wounds on her skin, and immediately angry; she wanted to escape and that was it, there was nothing to her life if she couldn’t be free. However, without the wealth of power that spirit had given her, it wasn’t long before she was captured yet again. A man in black robes came and asked her for her name. After a long wait, the girl thought on her answer, before replying with the identity that had been imprinted on her: Scathach, the Warrior Maiden of Shadows. The man looked amused by the answer, as if he had suspected as much. The man would explain to the vessel of Scathach that she had been used by people trying to manipulate the world to their own benefit, and that their organization could offer her a different path. When the vessel bitterly asked what they did, the man replied that they do the opposite of that cult; they manipulate themselves for the benefit of the world. And so, without as much as a stamp of approval, the vessel was given a name, Eilish, and made to join in the training camp of the Darkworld’s Assassination Corps. She had nowhere else to go anyway.

And so the tale of Eilish began; at first trying to escape the organization but eventually finding no exit. She internally escaped by reading, and eventually learned more about magic, language, and most importantly the one who she was chosen to be possessed by. The girl was often amused by the fact that they talked about her, but then realized it was talking about Scathach, not the girl known as Eilish; still, Scathach was part of her identity now, whether she liked it or not. She felt a strong desire to surpass that legend to gain back her sense of self, and started working harder than ever, wanting more than anything to go beyond her limit. This drive became a meticulous obsession with becoming perfect, marking her as a highly paranoid but effective marksman.

We fast forward to the current day; Eilish, under the alias of [Scathach], now work under the Darkworld as a professional assassin, having a special magic ability that makes her potent threat to deal with. She’s been stuck for the past 20 years on how to evolve herself beyond the state she is in now, but nothing has allowed her to push herself to her limit. That is, until the war started. The Darkworld called her to be one of the first combatants in the fight, and she confidently obliged to get some action along with some steady pay. Since day one of the war in Meridian, she has never stopped hunting for those who gave her back that sense of purpose, and to find her own identity once this whole battle was settled.

Skills/Abilities: Eilish is a Sorceress who is completely enamored with Fire Magic, and refutes any other type of magic being better than it (even though Fire Magic is easily snuffed out by Earth Magic but don’t tell her that or she’ll pull out her gun). She can use an array of different fire spells, including but not limited to fireballs, whips, daggers, and even needles.

Her specialization lies in a magic that she developed herself called [Gae Bolg], after the spear of Cuchulainn given to him by the real Scathach. First creating a fireball, she holds it in place and starts condensing it until it is the size a bullet; a solid weapon of pure flame but more unstable based on the primary size of the fireball. Eilish usually uses 10 centimeter fireballs, but does create bigger ones for bigger impact. Then she uses one of her two guns, both enchanted to preserve the density of the fire, and shoots it at her target. She can only make one bullet at a time; doing it any other way is a lack of precision that Eilish can’t afford to have. Plasma bullets have strong piercing power but as they enter a living organism by recognizing its hot internal temperature, it stops drastically. The bullet will then expand back to its original fireball form within the target, scalding their insides in a 2:1 centimeter ratio (10 centimeter primary fire ball mean 5 centimeters of internal scalding fire). For more drawn out fights, she actually prefers to wrap her bullets around actual iron bullets, which is a deviation skill known as [Gae Bolg Craiceann], or [Skin of Gae Bolg]. Doing it in this way causes the fire to actually expand inward, melting the iron of the bullet into the muscle and bone of the target. The safest way to take out these bullets is the usage of another magic user with an affinity for metal, though the procedure is fairly painful for everyone involved.

A type of defense spell she also uses is called Dun Scaith, which surrounds her in a heat dome around the temperature of 300 degrees Celsius. It’s more of an aversion magic rather than defense, but coming into contact within two feet of her skin is like holding your hand in scalding hot water. She cannot use any of Gae Bolg for the duration of this magic, as the bullet will register the heat of Dun Scaith and activate regardless if that was her intention.

While not technically a magic ability and more of an innate one, she references her eyes as part of her key to victory. Because of her precise detailing with the way she meticulously prepares herself for work, her eyes are highly perceptive and can understand the trajectory of a motion as well as picking up on minute details that might become important later. Usually the cognition is right, but it is up to her if she wants to act against it or not.

Enchanted Objects/Equipment: As said above, all of Eilish’s clothes have been enchanted with speed and durability magic, making her just as fast as a vampire while as durable as a werewolf with none of the healing factor. After all, if she does her job well there should be no point for her having to take wounds at all. These runes are not powered by herself, but by the runes; acting as a battery until they can be replenished by the warlock who made them. Thankfully, he works at the Assassination Department, so she always makes sure to recharge them every time that man comes to the office.

Her preferred weapon of choice for her profession is the Glock 19, which she affectionately calls Coinchenn, for both its blocky design and safe handling. She wields it using her right arm so that she doesn’t damage her dominant left. She has two pockets strapped to the side of her thighs, carrying 4 magazines of 15 rounds each with 2 magazines in each pocket.

She also carries on her person a Remington Derringer named Curruid, a type of pocket pistol that is pathetically small and holds only one bullet in it at a time. She uses this gun up close and personal for a sadistic killing blow, for either her victim or herself. In the face of death, she will gladly take the first step rather than let someone else take it for her.

Other Information: She is too insecure to start up a romantic relationship with anyone, and doesn’t find anything sexually attractive because opening up to those desires, she feels, would lead her down a path of ruin. The Scathach part of her agrees, having seen what it has done to her protégé, Cuchullain.

-Sometimes, she talks out loud to the part of her that became Scathach, mainly when she finds the world a bit too harsh or when she’s being a little too self-deprecating. It should be noted that it’s more akin to a multiple personality disorder than having the actual spirit inside of her.

Darkling: The Night War

Question that I feels needs to be known: how long has the War in Meridian been going on for? Working on an NPC and wanted to know.

Darkling: The Night War

Zeiss Calavan

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@jdh97

Zeiss giggled at the vampire's notion that she would stop him from rambling; of course she'd like to get as much information as possible. She looked around to get a bearing on where they were within the Rebel Sector; it seems as though they crossed a few blocks to find themselves closer to the Lycan border than she liked. The buildings here were simple apartment buildings made of worn concrete and brick while convenience stores and small shops that sold an assortment of food lined the sidewalks, still operating as the night was still young and sundown had just happened a few hours ago. People were out and about, chittering about the latest news about the warlocks that had intercepted whatever it was at the border; apparently, they were killed and eviscerated. She could sense the stream of magic that flowed from the warded barrier in order to keep the rebels safe, though in war these things usually break like tissue paper just from the amount of force that was pushed on them. It was at least dented in as noted by the disturbance of mana a little to their northwest.

Maybe I'll have to work on the inscriptions for those as well, though I should probably just leave it up to the people actually trying to finish this war. I'll definitely have to tell the Runic Department when I get back to my office, but hopefully they don't plan on me bearing the responsibility for it just because I gave them the info, she thought.

Outside the center of the city she was no longer safe, she understood, but if she stayed here too long then she might want to see what was happening purely out of curiosity. Maybe it was about time to head home. She looked at her companion and eyed him as if to try and sear his visage into her memory; the wirey man had definitely been a good amount of entertainment this evening. He almost looked as if he was drawn like a cartoon with how expressive his eyebrows were as he talked about himself in detail. He was bold, and a little cute with how she felt like he was dancing to her tune; always nice to be in that position of power. He wasn't really her type, a little too lanky, but he was a good man by being a nice change of pace for the great Zeiss Calavan. She took the cigarette he offered and with a quick scratching of the 'Ansiz" rune on the tip the smoke alighted.

"I'm sorry, chronicler; your stories were too enrapturing and I felt I got lost in its rhythm as well. It actually gave me quite a few things to think about, maybe you'll let me try them out on you." She walked up to him while taking out a small piece of thin paper. "I had a good time tonight because of you; here I thought that vampires weren't so keen on witches like me. You are a fascinating man, but I must cut our time together short; if I'm not working during the day, my employers always want me to get it done in the night. I don't want to leave you empty handed for what you've done for me, so have a little reward."

Gracefully, she pulled the cigarette out, putting the piece of inscribed paper on her lips and leaned in to kiss him through it. The paper was thin enough they it might well not have existed, and she felt the man's thin lips on her full ones. Two fingers kept the paper in place as her left held rested gently on the back of the man's neck, feeling through his straw-like hair as she made sure the cigarette didn't fall out of her fingers. It was five seconds before she broke their kiss and pulled the paper away from her mouth, it alighting with a sigil and hardening into what appeared to be a business card. Zeiss smiled at it before presenting it to him, the bold font on the top of the card stating her self-proclaimed title: 'The Witch of Isa'.

"I don't do home visits, a little too risque for me after one little outing. If you'd like to see me again, come to the address on the card, give this to the front desk, and ask for an 'Abigail Aesir'. They will teleport you to the front door of my workshop."

A pseudoname, an alias; something she had been using while within the Rebel Sector as to alleviate the little witch hunt that almost followed her from her former home in the Magic Sector. There was no need for them to know who she was right now; she'll announce to the world once she showcased her magic for all to see. For now, she is distrustful of others with her personal life, but only time will tell if that notion remains a fact. She slipped the card into the vampire's coat pocket before giving him another peck on the cheek.

"If a young girl opens the door for you, don't worry; it's just my assistant. Could be more if you'd like. I'd love to see you again, my dear chronicler; I'll be waiting for you." She put the cigarette back into her mouth, turned, and faded into a group of people as the crowd grew around the man she allowed into her refuge.

Darkling: The Night War

Took a few days, but I made a character picture for Zeiss in her character bio, if anyone's interesting in looking at that.

Darkling: The Night War

I think Zeiss would very much like Sarafine, or at least their ideologies align enough for Zeiss to think that chaos would be beneficial to the evolution of the Earth as a whole.

Darkling: The Night War

Yeah so far it's been character meet and greet, nothing too plot heavy.

Darkling: The Night War

-Zeiss Calavan-

Zeiss simply smiled, "The night air would feel really nice right about now. Being so flush in this place is making me a bit woozy."

She put down some money for the extra drinks and nodded to the bartender, who just looked between her and the vampire before nodding. She looked to her companion; he was a man of stories, and has been exposed to so much that he lost touch with the world of matter, unfeeling to purpose. Nihilism is something that she had never felt before; she was always too invested in her work to care about the details of philosophical ideologies. She didn't mind the company of those who did have those feelings as long as she had something to gain from it, and from this man she gained the venting of some of her frustrations.

She attempted to stand up, wobbling as she balanced herself. Her chest felt heavier than usual, and obviously her vision wasn't very steady; perhaps she really did over do herself on the tequila this time. Must've been the company that kept her doing.

As she slowly walked toward the entrance, she noticed the pitter patter of light rain and looked to see that a faint shower was coming down; seems as though Freyr had blessed her with a cooling breeze after all. It was nothing to be annoyed by, but it made her second guess bringing her lovely silk jacket since it would be such a waste to have it get wet. She tucked it into her hand bag as a few more people came into the bar looking for a bit of shelter. She wiped off the sweat on her brow and realized her hair was curling even more from the humidity.

She looked over her shoulder with a sideways glance (which probably could've been executed better if she were more sober) and said, "Come now, my dear chronicler; you must tell me of your stories. Having experienced so many vices and sins must make you quite the skald."

Darkling: The Night War

-Zeiss Calavan-

At the mention of her solo venture, she gave him a wink and a giggle; it was probably the alcohol on that one. She downed her fourth drink, a Screwdriver, making sure to limit herself to one more drink so she can keep her wits about her. Wait...was this the fourth or the sixth? What was the fifth? She shifted in her stool staring at the glass, her arms resting on the table as she listened to the vampire next to her talk on about the war that surrounded them. She felt herself starting to ramble after he stopped talking to take another swig.

"I'm a genius, hun; the template I use should be understandable, but I don't know what these peons are doing. Schools aren't any better; I surpassed my seniors in my second year and they still teach the same type of inscription. For what I can tell, they don't use runes like they do a language; it has a structure and presentation that needs to be addressed when making the right ones. You don't say 'happy' when you mean 'arousal'" She got quite close to him on that word, feeling her breath on his and vice versa, "and it's the same thing with runic magic."

She asked for a glass of water and took two gulps before letting her tongue stick out to let the lack of taste set in.

"I'm too hard ahead of the game, that's what it is. It's like trying to teach school children about anthropology. Moreover, it seems as though many other warlocks and witches don't use Norse runes anymore, sticking to Celtic or Sanskrit or some other drivel. That's my job here as of current; making the inscriptions for the less talented suckers so that they can use them in the war and they STILL lose. Not my fault that they have such poor aptitude. But I agree with you; the war will strip you down to your bare bones and make you face yourself. Make you ask if you're making the right decision by being in the center of it. Ask you why do you even bother."

She let out a laugh, first nervous but slipped into silliness as she brushed the sweat on her brow; the warm atmosphere could get fairly heated in this place. She rested her head in her hands and looked at her partner of the night.

"I'm sorry; that became a bit too introspective for how many of these drinks we've had downed. So what about you, man of mystery; what are you like?"

Darkling: The Night War

-Zeiss Calavan-

With the last downing of her drink and the release incantation of "Dagaz Othala", the napkin went limp while she bathed in the compliments and admiration. She knew it was a waste of her daily mana but hell if it didn't feel good to indulge in making herself feel more important. She called for another of the same drink as she locked her eyes back onto his.

"I simply have such a talent, refined by natural determination. My family comes from a long line of German warlocks; perhaps my ancestors grant me passage to the lines connecting reality to the metaphysical. It all has to be put into the perspective of something beyond my comprehension."

She took a sip of the tequila cocktail before continuing, feeling a blush come across her face. "Unfortunately, I have not made much progress on what I've been calling Stasis Magic. It works on organisms just as well if not better than a meager napkin, the only problem I have so far with this magic is that the object is indeed fixed; it cannot be moved from its spot within the Earth's rotation. I'm the only one putting the time and effort into what so far amounts to more expensive Paralysis runing. If I can just find the breakthrough I need, I know I can make a killing in profits."

She grinned wistfully among the crowd of various magicfolk, "Though maybe there's been enough killing nowadays..."