Lasrever

Decibitus

Amelia Dupont

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~1510 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

---

Ah, Paris. Wonderful, beautiful, Paris. How she had missed France, in these past months. Amelia knew, of course, that such a storm as the one she spied on the edge of her vision would no doubt be the subject of their mission, painfully far off as it was. But if she could take in the place for a moment... ah, what a shame that she had a job to do. She wondered if the family home was still around. There was a chance they had torn the place down, after everything, but it would be nice to see how things had all panned out. Swept under the rug, most likely.

Perhaps if they dealt with this quickly enough-- shit, car!

Wait, weren't those reapers? It seemed likely that that was the way they should go, then.

And also that their cover was mostly-blown, because that was not one of them driving. The lack of required subtlety, relatively speaking, suited her fine.

It was a good thing that they weren't yet tangible, though. She would have been quite embarrassed to be immediately run over, in her own city. It seemed worse, somehow, to die so mundanely in a city with which she was so intimately familiar, though she couldn't say why. It was no harder to be run over in Paris than anywhere else. She glanced over as Aron appeared with her, but didn't take the time to crow about the joy of her return. After all, they needed to follow.

If they let her back into the city and she didn't get to fight anything, it would be a tragedy. Things had been so painfully mundane, lately. Not once had she managed to fly close to the sun, and the absence felt as though it itched underneath her skin. So permanent, so solid, so boring it had been.

The next car, then, was a welcome blessing, and she didn't think to consult Aron before becoming tangible, and taking the most immediate measure to draw attention, pulling the gun from her hip and shooting into the sky as she stood in the road in front of their fellow reapers' tailing vehicle.

"OI!" A good opener, as she waved the driver down. "Give us a lift! We're with those others!"

She was asking, because it was good to have allies. That she was also forming a plan to steal the car was currently immaterial, and would hopefully stay that way. Perhaps Aron would have a better way to ensure their journey: her magic was not suited for this without preparation or destroying the car, and it was (as had been extensively emphasised to her) frowned upon to use violent crime as one's first port-of-call in problem solving. Second, maybe, would be explicable. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Decibitus

Amelia Dupont

---

~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

---

Amelia was faced, now, with a problem. As she made her way back towards the office, she was contemplating it quite fiercely. She had to solve the dilemma ahead of her, of course, but how to do so? Rallying support had never been her forte, as she had never seen much reason to give a shit about those who her charms failed to win over. Such matters were boring, and frequently futile.

And yet, she wanted to make Miss Death happy, if she could. Or whatever approximated happy for her, at least; the woman's relationship with most feelings was a riddle Amelia had yet to find all of the answers for.

So she made her way back to the office, and for once, she had been thinking before she acted, because if she didn't think, she might not achieve the most entertaining of results. She wanted to see what would happen if MD and the necromancer were to speak, and she hoped a little bit that she might get to see. Things grew stale, and the current situation wasn't sustainable anyway. As reckless as she may have seemed (and been), Amelia had little interest in fading away because the afterlife grew overcrowded and went to shit. She wanted a good death, she wanted action, wanted that thrill that had shot through her being when...

Yes, it would be bad to let things grow stale. Terrible indeed. She considered, of course, the obvious option. There had been stern words about improper use of her weapon. Words that Uchi and Eliot had felt a great need to stress to her, even. But even if she knew she wouldn't pull the trigger, pointing it tended to rush along the decisions that people made, and in a favourable direction to boot. Ultimately, though, she discarded the idea. It would be foolish to lose her station, and there were lines that one could not cross. Besides, she wasn't maliciously unhinged, and she didn't enjoy the prospect of unmaking people if they took her actions as aggressive.

No, the gun stayed in the holster. More's the pity.

She would have to be cleverer about it all. And so, here she was. She'd stolen... she'd borrowed a box, and spent some time crafting an admittedly crude set of ballots. One answer for supporting the conversation, and one for not doing so.

And now, here she was. Returning to the office, no doubt to the delight of her coworkers. Mostly. Probably. She couldn't imagine why it would be anything else, as she began to drag a desk into the middle of the floor, and set the box and ballots down. Forgot to bring a pen - she paused, ran over to the nearest desk, and grabbed one from someone's hand to a noise of protest that went ignored. He'd probably get it back at some point.

With that done, she clambered up to stand atop the table, clapped her hands, and cleared her throat. "My fellow reapers! I have a request for you - not on my own behalf, don't worry. But our wonderful boss, ahem, Miss Death, she needs our input. Specifically, she needs our opinions. She would like to speak with the Necromancer, that we might resolve the rail failure, but is unwilling to force it."

Despite it all, Amelia was aware of how she was seen by her peers. A reckless fool, a destructive force, a detriment to order and to good sense. This, on occasion, made it difficult for one to get what they wanted. But people assuming you would always make the worst possible decision... that could be useful too. She grinned widely, spreading her arms.

"For the record, I think this is a terrible idea. Better that we let things build a little more, no? It should be much more fun that way. Right now, we're only getting started, am I right or am I right?"

Someone was saying her name, she realised, finally done tuning out every sign of protest. She looked down, raising an eyebrow at Eliot, who looked to be deeply exasperated.

Huh. I wonder why that is?

@PapiTan

Decibitus

---

~???? | DECIBITUS | MALUCH PRAETI

---

“He’s had a stick up his ass ever since those guys said they were gonna try walking the rail, so he deserves it anyways.”

Aron, finally finding this an appropriate moment to make eye-contact with a denizen of Mulch, frowned and tilted his head.

"Breaking in sounds..." Like the best way to deteriorate his relationship with the craftsman even further. Hopefully that wasn't the only option. "Oh, how did the rail walking go for those guys?"

"Hmmmm..." The blonde scratched the back of his head for a moment in thought, eyes narrowing with concentration. "They left like, three days ago and I don't think anyone's seen them since." A grin broke across the youth's face. "Maybe they made it to the After? Hell if I know."

"Maybe. Either way, you can't expect them back. Don't think they just have the rail for the hell of it, though I could respect that kind of decision. There are worse things than taking your life in your hands." Perhaps something to look into? Of course, the people most likely to have the relevant knowledge were the people they were looking for. She, for one, wanted to know if it'd be exciting.

With that in mind, Amelia took it upon herself to end Aron's initial sentence in the obvious manner. "But yes, I agree with Aron. Breaking in does sound good." Of course she knew that wasn't what he meant. That was at least half of the fun. "If you are willing to help us out, we are firm believers in teamwork, aren't we?"

Despite the patent and probably frantic protests taking place not ten feet away, the boy's demeanor somehow succeeded in visibly brightening at his suggestion being accepted.

"Hell yeah!" Pumping one fist into the air in triumph, he dug his hands around in his pockets for a moment, drawing a thin kit from his coat before approaching the workshop door. "The nag's lock sucks--if I can get it in like, a minute, can I get a bonus?"

"I-I'm not paying for this!"

"I think I spent all of mine. Do you take IOUs?"

"Lame." The boy's expression matched the flat tone of the single-word response. "But I bet the old nag will pay if it's important you talk to him or whatever."

Plus, it might be fun just to see the aftermath, but the blonde kept that to himself.

He knelt before the door, the tools in hand working like magic with a practiced dexterity, though the faint glow from actual magic certainly helped with the illusion. Clearly, this wasn't the lad's first time doing such morally dubious work. True to his word, it took just short of a full sixty seconds for him to try the handle of the door--it turned with minimal resistance. A cheeky grin was directed at the duo.

"Heh, no need for a doorbell when you got me around."

"Impressive. I'd say that does deserve a bonus after all." Amelia glanced at Aron, pausing to clear her throat before going for the doorway as quickly as she could, "last one in has to pay!"

For a brief moment, Aron considered just letting her go. Taking the time to get out his wallet, paying the child for what his services were worth - heck, maybe even get his name. Then he recalled who they were visiting, what the purpose of this trip was, and which coworker he was about to leave alone with one of the scariest people in Decibitus.

"Uhhh. Later, kid!" he shouted over his shoulder, sprinting after Amelia.

To Aron's credit, he was probably right about Uchi being one of the scariest people in Decibitus. It wasn't necessarily the fact that he provided the weapons to reapers or even how it appeared that his very presence kept the usual vagrants of Mulch in line, but both factors certainly held a portion of the pink-haired man's notoriety.

In the moment that he noticed the two reapers barelling into the door, however, the most frightening thing about him was probably the ferocity that he shouted with.

"STAY THE FUCK AT THE DOOR, DIPSHITS!"

A smoky tendril seemed to shoot toward them, only to be snapped back by a strand of light--and it was clear then what "work in progress" meant at the door. The dark energy every reaper was so familiar with writhed and twitched in a shape that only vaguely resembled an orb, much of it bound in an array of light. It seemed almost alive in its attempts to break free, whatever obedience it had before now gone.

"Son of a bitch!" Uchi placed both hands on the mass, a dim light shining at his side releasing another strand of light to bind the darkness.

"Wow, he's shouting a whole lo--whoa." The boy peered in, eyes wide as he started to enter the workshop himself. "That looks sick as hell! Can I see?"

Whether the youth hadn't heard or didn't care about the previous warning was anyone's guess, as his steps started to take him past the entrance to the forge. They wouldn't take him very far as a frantic hand yanked him back by the collar. The boy made a strange sound at the sudden resistance and force, backpedaling a few steps before precariously regaining his balance.

"Wait, wait..." Aron gawked at whatever was happening in the workshop.

Whatever it was, it was enough to get Amelia to actually do what she'd been told, instead of the opposite, and pull back towards the entryway. "I suppose certain death isn't too fun..." she cleared her throat, calling out, "is it a bad time to ask questions?"

"Wh--yes, now is a bad time!" Uchi snapped before narrowing his eyes and all raising the wriggling smoke he had been holding down a few inches off the table before slamming it back down with a resounding thunk. "Fuck it."

The radiance wound itself tight around the mass as soon as Uchi pulled his hands back, enveloping it like a cocoon before Uchi clenched both fists. It tightened on command, compressing with all due force before fading away, leaving behind only the familiar shape of an inactive weapon core where light and shadow had been struggling moments before. The weaponsmith heaved a sigh, used the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, and fiddled with a small charm hanging from his belt loop--an old fashioned thing made of string and glass, but it had certainly been the source of the previous light.

Then, he turned to the door, expression far too relaxed for his usual demeanor.

"What. The fuck? Do you dumbasses have any idea what kinda shit that could have been?"

"Bad, I assume." Amelia got the sense there was no right answer here. "Maybe could've thought that through more. But, you know, sometimes the body acts before the mind..."

"In emergencies..." Aron looked to the side. "We're just asking for information..."

Uchi narrowed his eyes again, the action even seeming to subdue the boy who had let Amelia and Aron in to begin with. The sudden shrinking seemed to tell the man enough, and he gave an exasperated shake of his head.

"Don't let that brat convince you to pick the lock so easily next time. Being loud and reckless might have kept you two from eating shit this time." The man tossed the stray weapon core onto a counter on the opposite side of the room. "So what's Miss Death lookin' for in Mulch this time?"

"Of course. Next time, we shall be as loud and dramatic as possible; I'll arrange something. This time, though, we aren't here for Miss Death." Amelia stopped, and frowned. "Well, we are. But not in the sense of... look, Eliot sent us. She, Miss Death, isn't in her office. We were hoping you could point us in the right direction."

"She--she's what?"

Oh, that didn't seem good. Aron squinted. "You... don't know where she is?"

"No, she didn't say anything about being out." He frowned. "And she's not the type to leave unannounced."

The frown deepened, somehow.

"Unless she's trying to avoid people that know her."

"Huh." Amelia was thankful she left worrying to other people. "Is there a reason she'd be doing that? Special day? Haven't checked my calendar in a while, but she usually has reasons for the things she does." Admittedly, sometimes they were very strange reasons, but still.

Aron was just glad to be able to leave the workshop on short notice. "Well, where would she even go?"

"If it were a special day, I'd probably know it by now," Uchi started. Then, as if Aron's question sparked a flash of realization, the man sighed, pressing his fingers against his temples lightly as he drew a sharp breath. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, if she didn't tell anyone shit, Miss Death's probably gone off somewhere she knows others aren't going to like her being at."

Which, given the position Miss Death held in the court of Decibitus's public opinion, narrowed things down quite a bit.

"So she's probably doing exactly what Eliot and I have told her not to do and run off to the Arch to see Earth directly or to the Depths. And it doesn't sound like anyone at your office heard anything about her wandering around the Arch."

"No, they didn't." Amelia whistled, seeming oddly excited by the prospect. "Well, it would only be responsible for us to follow this lead together. Always have been curious about the inside of these places. Never managed to see in life, so..." she grinned towards Aron, as if expecting him to share in her enthusiasm, "happy days."

He regarded her with extreme suspicion. "You've never been to prison? Really?"

"I haven't! Not for lack of action, admittedly." Amelia conceded, finding an equal level of scepticism in Uchi's expression as she looked away. "But, you know, money talks. Louder than most rules do."

"And yet we both have so little of it now," Aron sighed.

"A tragedy."

The expression on Uchi's face as he watched the exchange, for just a moment, could only be read as pity. It disappeared with a shrug, though largely because the man turned back to the weapon core he'd tossed onto the counter earlier and not through any control on his own part.

"That woman's gonna clam up if I show up with you to the Depths, so you two are on your own there." A pause. A furtive glance shot at the two reapers earned only a pesky pang of conscience. "I'm not gonna have time to eat now, so go ahead and take the food behind that counter before you head out. Won't last 'til after I'm done with this shit anyways."

"Oh, fuck yes. I mean, ahem, thank you Uchi." Amelia was quick to move to take him up on the offer, before remembering Aron was there. She paused, considered how the rest of the day had gone, and decided to wave him ahead. "Uh. You can pick first. I'll eat most things anyway."

The thought of being offered food right after breaking into a colleague's place made things feel even more awkward for Aron, so he decided to handball it to the kid. "Sure, uhhh, I dunno, do you want anything?"

"Nah, I gotta eat with the gang later anyways," the boy claimed with a grin. "You guys sound like you need it more."

"If you say so... Uhh, thanks Uchi." It was probably even poorer manners to turn down someone's hospitality after being offered it. Aron moved to pick up some cutlery and looked to the boy once more. "Sorry, did you ever give your name?"

"Aw, man, you forgot already? Laaaame." Of course, he hadn't, but that was beside the point. "Guess you'll have to find out next time."

"I'm just going to call you Hugo." Amelia shrugged, attention mostly on the food by now. "We should eat quickly. Perhaps the Depths will be more fun with a full stomach."

"I don't think that's his-- never mind." Aron mumbled and simply dug into his food as he was told.

Decibitus

Amelia Dupont

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

---

"What do you mean, banned from Paris?"

"I don't make the rules, Miss Dupont."

---

Amelia had been in a poor mood today. For various reasons, her gun sat heavy at her hip, and she was under very clear instructions that she didn't get to fire it here. Not even a little. Her pockets were light, as they so often seemed to be, but there was only one job on the board, and after the last time she'd been back home, it seemed that Amelia couldn't take it. Not by her own choice.

They really did hold a grudge over simple misunderstandings up here. Or at home? It was unclear where the blame lay.

Inconvenient, how these things panned out. It had her heading to the lobby anyway, in hopes that there'd be some last-minute panic, or failing that, that she'd find someone to talk to. It hadn't been too long since she last spoke with the boss, and she was pretty sure she was close to getting the terrifying immortal on-board with workplace pranks, so that was always an avenue to pursue. She would need to prepare for that, mind you, given how good their other bosses seemed to be at tracking these things to their root cause. The sacrifices she made to liven up their workplace were great, and measurable in disciplinary pay-cuts.

She wondered if there was a limit on those. Did reapers have a union? Then again, they also tended to impose standards, didn't they...

Clearly there was no solution to this. Elliot would tell her that she could just 'stop making suggestions', but other than that, there was no solution. Things would have to continue as they were, in that case: his assignment of blame to her was doubtless another excuse to keep her from walking the mayor.

She'd been standing in the lobby for some time now, the receptionist looking upon her with some measure of unjustified suspicion. looking for an excuse to act, the sound of panting caught her attention, and she looked towards it with a wicked grin.

Well, well. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear with his little dog.

No doubt he would be thrilled to see her; Mochi would, at least. He always was.

"Elliot! You look harried. Looking for something? Need help? Someone to keep Mochi company while you run around?" She spun around to look at the man, bouncing on her heels a little. "Apparently, I can't be in Paris because I am 'not to be trusted', so I would like to have something to do."

Decibitus

Amelia Dupont is normal and can be trusted with a gun

Amelia Dupont

"The joke's on me, I'm the lucky one."

⊕Appearance

Amelia stands at around 5'8" when stood up straight, although her posture is usually terrible enough to shave off an inch. In terms of build, she's fairly lanky, and she generally wears a grin that could best be described as "wicked", even when she's not doing anything that'd warrant it. To anyone that pays attention, it'd be clear she does actually bother to take care of herself: she just doesn't want to do much beyond that. As for clothes, while her usual fur-lined aviator jacket is pretty finely-made, it's also more expensive than the rest of her wardrobe put together. Trying to get her to pay any attention to proper dress-code is a Sisyphean task, and she'll usually kick around in a selection of jeans and graphic t-shirts: apparently with a particular affinity for terrible slogan tees. After much persuasion, she was convinced to start wearing button-up shirts to work. Sometimes. The battle is ongoing.

She's also been known to wear sunglasses indoors often enough for it to be a habit.

⊕ Age (appearance): 25
⊕ Age (actual): None of your business.
⊕ Gender: Female

⊕ Weapon

Weapon Description

"Look, this is a great idea. It'll be fine, trust me."

Amelia's weapon is not a great idea. It appears to be a standard revolver, and that's roughly five-sixths accurate.

Chambers one through five fire regular bullets. The sixth is the aforementioned explosive shot, which is both incredibly destructive to the target, and to Amelia herself if she's standing too close to whatever it hits. She doesn't seem to heed this danger, and if anything takes some kind of strange joy in it, keeping absolutely no track of it and often spinning the cylinder randomly.

Unsurprisingly, this has severely backfired on her more than once. She has made no effort to change anything about her weapon in spite of this.

⊕ Magic Branch: Sympathetic magic

"Nothing's ever isolated: we're all one big, happy family, and isn't that just sweet?"

Amelia specialises in magic that consists of creating and manipulating bonds between objects and people. By fostering and harnessing these connections, she can draw things towards one another, swap their positions, hijack the sight of passing creatures, and forcibly drag an attacker down with her.

Spellbook

Magic

"Apparently, my original names were unprofessional."

⊕ No, you. Dead-man's Switch

Perhaps it says something worrying about her character, that Amelia would dedicate so much of her magical effort towards a spell that primarily serves to spite anyone who beats her in a fight. Psychoanalysis aside, the dead-man's switch is just that, a powerful backlash that inflicts directly proportionate retribution upon the one unfortunate enough to inflict the activating blow. In order to use this spell, Amelia has to actively activate it in anticipation of an attack - if she's caught off-guard with sufficient force, or is unaware of her attacker, it cannot be activated. Equally, if she isn't struck, it only lasts for a window of around ten seconds: past that, whether or not it's activated, it will dissipate.

In addition, the damage is only somewhat proportional - the backlash towards an attacker seems to be slightly less than the damage inflicted upon Amelia: if she happens to activate this in anticipation of a killing blow, it will severely damage an opponent in a manner that somewhat mimics her injuries, but will be 'stopped short' of killing them in turn. Similarly, loss of limb will likely disable the opponent's corresponding limb (or closest equivalent), but will not detach it.

This spell is complex enough to only function when written, and has no verbal form. In addition, it is highly taxing upon the user - particularly if it actually comes into effect. Regardless, it's not something one would be able to cast more than once in a fight on average.

⊕ The one that swaps shit. Trickster's Trade

A relocation spell which enables Amelia to swap the position of two objects of a similar size to one another. The verbal form of the spell allows her to swap items up to roughly the size of a house-cat, whereas the written version's size limitation increases, allowing her to swap people, and person-sized objects. Both targets must be within 125 feet of Amelia, and 125 feet of each other.

⊕ Got Your Eyes! Hijacker's Sight

A spell that primarily operates as a scouting mechanism, allowing Amelia to use another creature's eyes, and see what they see. This takes the form of essentially "piggybacking" on their sight. The target is unaware of the spell's effects, but Amelia cannot direct them through it in any way. When the spell is verbal, she can use one creature's sight for up to five minutes, but cannot re-enter their viewpoint if she leaves it. When written, the spell allows her to "tag" a creature for up to ten minutes, allowing her to drop in and out of their viewpoint for the duration.

While using another creature's viewpoint through this spell, Amelia herself cannot see.

⊕ Marriage? Kinetic Bond

A written spell generally inscribed on a series of sticky notes adhesive papers. This spell allows Amelia to create a "tether" that creates a straight line between two objects that she places the sigils upon, which rapidly pulls them towards one another when activated. The objects don't need to be similar in size, but the force required to move them is relative to their mass: a cardboard box couldn't be used to move a huge statue, for example, and would instead simply be thrown into the larger object. The tethers can move objects of up to roughly the weight of a brown bear, and they can have a distance of up to 90 feet between them.

⊕⊕⊕

A Very Safe First Job

She was being hazed, right? That's what this was? That was why her partner had barely spoken a damn word to her and also sucked at his job, right? Obviously she couldn't be wrong about any of that, so hazing was the only option left. Sure, he'd given her some kind of run-down, but if you delivered all your instructions in a dry monotone, you couldn't rightly expect her to remember them properly through the concentrated boredom.

Just following the guy around had resulted in them tracking down the wisp anyway, but when she'd thought that meant an improvement to her day, apparently she'd been mistaken. How long was this guy gonna take beating the thing down, anyway?

"Hey, what'syourface, moustache man, if you wanna give me some space, I can end this alread--" Amelia ducked out of the way of an errant tail-swipe, whooping gleefully. Her partner's insistence on getting up-close and personal with the thing sort of made sense, but at the same time, well, damn if it didn't make it complicated to get a shot. Blowing her own arm off wasn't that big a deal, but apparently it made her unpopular in the workplace if someone else got caught in the crossfire.

And not that she'd mind, but he wasn't doing fuck-all to the thing. Sure, it wasn't hitting him either, but the idea of sitting around watching an endurance match made her want to cry, just a tiny bit. The only thing worse than violent, bloody, gruesome death was mild boredom, after all.

Damn, did Amelia struggle with close-in fighters. Trying to bail 'em out, specifically. Unfortunately, you didn't always get the luxury of a partner smart enough not to practically rub their face on the wisp. Unfortunately, sometimes you ended up in a stalemate, with your six-shooter pointed at the head (if that counted as a head, which was up in the air) of a creature and your coworker ignoring your pretty clear instructions to, "for the last time, back off a little!"

The guy was practically making himself a human shield, alright? Reaper shield, if you wanted to be a technically accurate dweeb. She had a shot, she knew that much. They were in a stalemate, her and boredom, and she'd have to move sooner rather than later to break it. She was pretty sure this thing wouldn't actually unmake the man in his current state. Probably. If it was a regular gun, she'd probably not have anything to think about. As was, she had a one-in-six chance of losing employee of the month forever.

Pretty good odds, right?

She laughed, far harder than any aspect of the situation warranted, as though she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious - probably 'cause she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious. For some reason, this didn't seem to reassure her colleague, who finally looked her way for that instead of the instructions. Oh, sure, the sound of someone having fun gets him. Probably made him a spoilsport. Or maybe just a pansy. Both?

Yeah, so the guy's health and well-being weren't that far down her list, in that they were probably at least somewhere on there. But then again... a clean shot offered itself up, and without really thinking about it, her final decision was made. A gun in her hand, and her finger squeezing the trigger. "Screw this-- think fast!"

One in six, right?

...

Oh, that wasn't good.

***

"So, the report might sound bad. But remember, I did tell him to back up."

Decibitus [Moved to a new thread]

Amelia Dupont

---

~8:30 AM | MT ARAPILES | Punks Wall

---

Amelia was faintly relieved to have something happen. She'd taken one of Vera's cigarettes, though she hadn't actually bothered to light it yet. She enjoyed a smoke more after she'd shot something; call it a personal preference. But the offer had been there, and free, so of course she'd take it anyway. Her teammates' objections to the idea of being collateral damage had also been noted. There was a priority list for that, though no-one but her got to be privy to the details.

Vera had earned a point by giving her a free thing, even one she wasn't using right now. Lena ran good parties, and had specifically asked not to be put at risk, which Amelia could respect. As for the rest, she didn't try to harm people.

...at least, she didn't try to harm other reapers. It just happened to happen more often than management would like, and she couldn't be held responsible for other people's decision to stand in blast range. She had the sneaking suspicion that most of this team would hold a grudge about it, too, no matter how well she explained that her decisions were the right ones if you just didn't get hung up on the damage involved.

All that was hopefully something she wouldn't need to contend with today, anyway. She really did need the money, so the looming pay-cut provided better insurance for her coworkers than any amount of pleading or chastisement would.

As the monster and its quarry barrelled towards their team, the thought did occur to her that this could be some kind of strange prank, though she didn't voice it: far too late to make a difference if she did, anyway, given that the others were already acting. Probably not worth it to bring it up, given that it seemed unlikely.

"Drone's mine!" Property damage was a special skill of hers, after all. Drones, from her understanding, were expensive as well, and a hefty price tag could make just about anything satisfying to break.

It didn't look huge, so she was reasonably confident she wouldn't need the written spell to change its position. She took off at a sprint towards an appropriately-sized rock fairly close to her, aiming to cast her Trickster's Trade spell and swap said rock's position with that of the drone.

"And... shuffle."

As she cast, she jumped with an enthusiastic whoop, aiming for a two-footed landing on top of the drone the moment after it and the rock changed places. Hopefully, if she timed things right, its owner wouldn't have a chance to know what happened.

Decibitus [Moved to a new thread]

Amelia Dupont

---

~??? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

---

Amelia had been having a sedate sort of week, which bothered her. It wasn't as if there was nothing to do in Decibitus, of course, but it lacked a certain spice sometimes. She didn't care to peacefully while away the days, but several of the perfectly reasonable hobbies she'd looked into pursuing weren't actually permitted within city bounds. Elliot wouldn't even give most of her arguments the time of day, no matter how smart they seemed to her. The rest of them cost money, and despite being paid the same as any other Reaper, occasional pay-cuts notwithstanding (who knew flour was so flammable?), she found herself dead broke. Pun semi-intended.

The reason for that one was simple: blackjack was very clearly a rigged game and completely unwinnable.

Certainly, that made more sense than her being as inexplicably bad at it as she was. It wasn't even a lack of skill - well, she didn't think it was. Statistically, she had been making all of the correct decisions. She knew that she had been; she'd looked up the mathematics after the last improbable losing streak. Sadly, her luck cared not for statistical averages, and so, her pockets were empty. Not that she necessarily needed money for much, but she liked to have it. For luxuries, if nothing else. After all, if you didn't indulge yourself after death, when would you?

The fact that more people in Decibitus didn't embrace that was shocking to her. They owed their existences in this city to selfish urges, at least if you asked Amelia's opinion. She wished more people would, at times. Her vision of a world in which more people took her advice was an objectively more entertaining, if far less safe one.

Regardless, the relatively-empty pockets that her gambling failures had bought her left Amelia rather glad to be back at work. Glad enough that she'd had no objections to the pastel-pink star that currently adorned the middle of her forehead. Getting to possibly tussle with a wisp was even better.

---

---

~8AM | MT ARAPILES | CAMP GROUND

---

In her enthusiasm, she certainly hadn't looked to waste any time getting down there.

Ah, Australia. The land of animals that kill you, plants that kill you, and weather that also kills you: a place after my own heart.

Admittedly, her heart sank slightly at the notion that their task would be straightforward, but even a routine job typically provided opportunities to blow off steam. Semi-accidentally, or not, depending on the moment-to-moment. A too-wide smile had begun to settle on her face when the additional note registered with her.

“‘Miss Dupont, your pay will be docked for excessive collateral damage!’"

"I don't see why that's only said to me." Though the way that her smile had abruptly shrunk said otherwise. Not that she necessarily had planned to cause too much collateral damage, of course. She simply hadn't planned not to, which was an important distinction, so often lost on people. After a long moment of silence, she spoke up further. "But just to be clear, when we say excessive... is that up to my judgement? Do we mean property? Teammates? Do I get one freebie?" She waited for a second, before shrugging, as if Sigrun could see her. "You know what, never mind, I'll figure it out."

It suddenly occurred that perhaps this wasn't the best conversation to be having directly next to said teammates. Clearing her throat, she looked around at them, deciding that the best plan was to pretend they hadn't heard her. If they were fast enough, they'd have no problems anyway.

"So, baseless warnings aside, I suppose we should start searching?" She'd started to pace, looking around for a sign as she spoke - sitting still for more than a few seconds was something she saw no reason to do. "This 'Punks Wall' sounds promising, if all this murmuring is worth much."

Decibitus [Moved to a new thread]

Amelia Dupont

Amelia Dupont

"The joke's on me, I'm the lucky one."

⊕Appearance

Amelia stands at around 5'8" when stood up straight, although her posture is usually terrible enough to shave off an inch. In terms of build, she's fairly lanky, and she generally wears a grin that could best be described as "wicked", even when she's not doing anything that'd warrant it. To anyone that pays attention, it'd be clear she does actually bother to take care of herself: she just doesn't want to do much beyond that. As for clothes, while her usual fur-lined aviator jacket is pretty finely-made, it's also more expensive than the rest of her wardrobe put together. Trying to get her to pay any attention to proper dress-code is a Sisyphean task, and she'll usually kick around in a selection of jeans and graphic t-shirts: apparently with a particular affinity for terrible slogan tees. After much persuasion, she was convinced to start wearing button-up shirts to work. Sometimes. The battle is ongoing.

She's also been known to wear sunglasses indoors often enough for it to be a habit.

⊕ Age (appearance): 25
⊕ Age (actual): None of your business.
⊕ Gender: Female

⊕ Weapon

Weapon Description

"Look, this is a great idea. It'll be fine, trust me."

Amelia's weapon is not a great idea. It appears to be a standard revolver, and that's roughly five-sixths accurate.

Chambers one through five fire regular bullets. The sixth is the aforementioned explosive shot, which is both incredibly destructive to the target, and to Amelia herself if she's standing too close to whatever it hits. She doesn't seem to heed this danger, and if anything takes some kind of strange joy in it, keeping absolutely no track of it and often spinning the cylinder randomly.

Unsurprisingly, this has severely backfired on her more than once. She has made no effort to change anything about her weapon in spite of this.

⊕ Magic Branch: Sympathetic magic

"Nothing's ever isolated: we're all one big, happy family, and isn't that just sweet?"

Amelia specialises in magic that consists of creating and manipulating bonds between objects and people. By fostering and harnessing these connections, she can draw things towards one another, swap their positions, hijack the sight of passing creatures, and forcibly drag an attacker down with her.

Spellbook

Magic

"Apparently, my original names were unprofessional."

⊕ No, you. Dead-man's Switch

Perhaps it says something worrying about her character, that Amelia would dedicate so much of her magical effort towards a spell that primarily serves to spite anyone who beats her in a fight. Psychoanalysis aside, the dead-man's switch is just that, a powerful backlash that inflicts directly proportionate retribution upon the one unfortunate enough to inflict the activating blow. In order to use this spell, Amelia has to actively activate it in anticipation of an attack - if she's caught off-guard with sufficient force, or is unaware of her attacker, it cannot be activated. Equally, if she isn't struck, it only lasts for a window of around ten seconds: past that, whether or not it's activated, it will dissipate.

In addition, the damage is only somewhat proportional - the backlash towards an attacker seems to be slightly less than the damage inflicted upon Amelia: if she happens to activate this in anticipation of a killing blow, it will severely damage an opponent in a manner that somewhat mimics her injuries, but will be 'stopped short' of killing them in turn. Similarly, loss of limb will likely disable the opponent's corresponding limb (or closest equivalent), but will not detach it.

This spell is complex enough to only function when written, and has no verbal form. In addition, it is highly taxing upon the user - particularly if it actually comes into effect. Regardless, it's not something one would be able to cast more than once in a fight on average.

⊕ The one that swaps shit. Trickster's Trade

A relocation spell which enables Amelia to swap the position of two objects of a similar size to one another. The verbal form of the spell allows her to swap items up to roughly the size of a house-cat, whereas the written version's size limitation increases, allowing her to swap people, and person-sized objects. Both targets must be within 125 feet of Amelia, and 125 feet of each other.

⊕ Got Your Eyes! Hijacker's Sight

A spell that primarily operates as a scouting mechanism, allowing Amelia to use another creature's eyes, and see what they see. This takes the form of essentially "piggybacking" on their sight. The target is unaware of the spell's effects, but Amelia cannot direct them through it in any way. When the spell is verbal, she can use one creature's sight for up to five minutes, but cannot re-enter their viewpoint if she leaves it. When written, the spell allows her to "tag" a creature for up to ten minutes, allowing her to drop in and out of their viewpoint for the duration.

While using another creature's viewpoint through this spell, Amelia herself cannot see.

⊕ Marriage? Kinetic Bond

A written spell generally inscribed on a series of sticky notes adhesive papers. This spell allows Amelia to create a "tether" that creates a straight line between two objects that she places the sigils upon, which rapidly pulls them towards one another when activated. The objects don't need to be similar in size, but the force required to move them is relative to their mass: a cardboard box couldn't be used to move a huge statue, for example, and would instead simply be thrown into the larger object. The tethers can move objects of up to roughly the weight of a brown bear, and they can have a distance of up to 90 feet between them.

⊕⊕⊕

A Very Safe First Job

She was being hazed, right? That's what this was? That was why her partner had barely spoken a damn word to her and also sucked at his job, right? Obviously she couldn't be wrong about any of that, so hazing was the only option left. Sure, he'd given her some kind of run-down, but if you delivered all your instructions in a dry monotone, you couldn't rightly expect her to remember them properly through the concentrated boredom.

Just following the guy around had resulted in them tracking down the wisp anyway, but when she'd thought that meant an improvement to her day, apparently she'd been mistaken. How long was this guy gonna take beating the thing down, anyway?

"Hey, what'syourface, moustache man, if you wanna give me some space, I can end this alread--" Amelia ducked out of the way of an errant tail-swipe, whooping gleefully. Her partner's insistence on getting up-close and personal with the thing sort of made sense, but at the same time, well, damn if it didn't make it complicated to get a shot. Blowing her own arm off wasn't that big a deal, but apparently it made her unpopular in the workplace if someone else got caught in the crossfire.

And not that she'd mind, but he wasn't doing fuck-all to the thing. Sure, it wasn't hitting him either, but the idea of sitting around watching an endurance match made her want to cry, just a tiny bit. The only thing worse than violent, bloody, gruesome death was mild boredom, after all.

Damn, did Amelia struggle with close-in fighters. Trying to bail 'em out, specifically. Unfortunately, you didn't always get the luxury of a partner smart enough not to practically rub their face on the wisp. Unfortunately, sometimes you ended up in a stalemate, with your six-shooter pointed at the head (if that counted as a head, which was up in the air) of a creature and your coworker ignoring your pretty clear instructions to, "for the last time, back off a little!"

The guy was practically making himself a human shield, alright? Reaper shield, if you wanted to be a technically accurate dweeb. She had a shot, she knew that much. They were in a stalemate, her and boredom, and she'd have to move sooner rather than later to break it. She was pretty sure this thing wouldn't actually unmake the man in his current state. Probably. If it was a regular gun, she'd probably not have anything to think about. As was, she had a one-in-six chance of losing employee of the month forever.

Pretty good odds, right?

She laughed, far harder than any aspect of the situation warranted, as though she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious - probably 'cause she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious. For some reason, this didn't seem to reassure her colleague, who finally looked her way for that instead of the instructions. Oh, sure, the sound of someone having fun gets him. Probably made him a spoilsport. Or maybe just a pansy. Both?

Yeah, so the guy's health and well-being weren't that far down her list, in that they were probably at least somewhere on there. But then again... a clean shot offered itself up, and without really thinking about it, her final decision was made. A gun in her hand, and her finger squeezing the trigger. "Screw this-- think fast!"

One in six, right?

...

Oh, that wasn't good.

***

"So, the report might sound bad. But remember, I did tell him to back up."

Decibitus [Moved to a new thread]

(Did I avoid joining the discord or saying anything at all outside of PMs until I finished this? Maybe. Shut up.)

Amelia Dupont

Amelia Dupont

⊕ Age (appearance): 25
⊕ Age (actual): None of your business.
⊕ Gender: Female

⊕ Weapon

Weapon Description

"Look, this is a great idea. It'll be fine, trust me."

Amelia's weapon is not a great idea. It appears to be a standard revolver, and that's roughly five-sixths accurate.

Chambers one through five fire regular bullets. The sixth is the aforementioned explosive shot, which is both incredibly destructive to the target, and to Amelia herself if she's standing too close to whatever it hits. She doesn't seem to heed this danger, and if anything takes some kind of strange joy in it, keeping absolutely no track of it and often spinning the cylinder randomly.

Unsurprisingly, this has severely backfired on her more than once. She has made no effort to change anything about her weapon in spite of this.

⊕ Magic Branch: Sympathetic magic

"Nothing's ever isolated: we're all one big, happy family, and isn't that just sweet?"

Amelia specialises in magic that consists of creating and manipulating bonds between objects and people. By fostering and harnessing these connections, she can draw things towards one another, swap their positions, hijack the sight of passing creatures, and forcibly drag an attacker down with her.

Spellbook

Magic

"Apparently, my original names were unprofessional."

⊕ No, you. Dead-man's Switch

Perhaps it says something worrying about her character, that Amelia would dedicate so much of her magical effort towards a spell that primarily serves to spite anyone who beats her in a fight. Psychoanalysis aside, the dead-man's switch is just that, a powerful backlash that inflicts directly proportionate retribution upon the one unfortunate enough to inflict the activating blow. In order to use this spell, Amelia has to actively activate it in anticipation of an attack - if she's caught off-guard with sufficient force, or is unaware of her attacker, it cannot be activated. Equally, if she isn't struck, it only lasts for a window of around ten seconds: past that, whether or not it's activated, it will dissipate.

In addition, the damage is only somewhat proportional - the backlash towards an attacker seems to be slightly less than the damage inflicted upon Amelia: if she happens to activate this in anticipation of a killing blow, it will severely damage an opponent in a manner that somewhat mimics her injuries, but will be 'stopped short' of killing them in turn. Similarly, loss of limb will likely disable the opponent's corresponding limb (or closest equivalent), but will not detach it.

This spell is complex enough to only function when written, and has no verbal form. In addition, it is highly taxing upon the user - particularly if it actually comes into effect. Regardless, it's not something one would be able to cast more than once in a fight on average.

⊕ The one that swaps shit. Trickster's Trade

A relocation spell which enables Amelia to swap the position of two objects of a similar size to one another. The verbal form of the spell allows her to swap items up to roughly the size of a house-cat, whereas the written version's size limitation increases, allowing her to swap people, and person-sized objects. Both targets must be within 125 feet of Amelia, and 125 feet of each other.

⊕ Got Your Eyes! Hijacker's Sight

A spell that primarily operates as a scouting mechanism, allowing Amelia to use another creature's eyes, and see what they see. This takes the form of essentially "piggybacking" on their sight. The target is unaware of the spell's effects, but Amelia cannot direct them through it in any way. When the spell is verbal, she can use one creature's sight for up to five minutes, but cannot re-enter their viewpoint if she leaves it. When written, the spell allows her to "tag" a creature for up to ten minutes, allowing her to drop in and out of their viewpoint for the duration.

While using another creature's viewpoint through this spell, Amelia herself cannot see.

⊕ Marriage? Kinetic Bond

A written spell generally inscribed on a series of sticky notes adhesive papers. This spell allows Amelia to create a "tether" that creates a straight line between two objects that she places the sigils upon, which rapidly pulls them towards one another when activated. The objects don't need to be similar in size, but the force required to move them is relative to their mass: a cardboard box couldn't be used to move a huge statue, for example, and would instead simply be thrown into the larger object. The tethers can move objects of up to roughly the weight of a brown bear, and they can have a distance of up to 90 feet between them.

⊕⊕⊕

A Very Safe First Job

She was being hazed, right? That's what this was? That was why her partner had barely spoken a damn word to her and also sucked at his job, right? Obviously she couldn't be wrong about any of that, so hazing was the only option left. Sure, he'd given her some kind of run-down, but if you delivered all your instructions in a dry monotone, you couldn't rightly expect her to remember them properly through the concentrated boredom.

Just following the guy around had resulted in them tracking down the wisp anyway, but when she'd thought that meant an improvement to her day, apparently she'd been mistaken. How long was this guy gonna take beating the thing down, anyway?

"Hey, what'syourface, moustache man, if you wanna give me some space, I can end this alread--" Amelia ducked out of the way of an errant tail-swipe, whooping gleefully. Her partner's insistence on getting up-close and personal with the thing sort of made sense, but at the same time, well, damn if it didn't make it complicated to get a shot. Blowing her own arm off wasn't that big a deal, but apparently it made her unpopular in the workplace if someone else got caught in the crossfire.

And not that she'd mind, but he wasn't doing fuck-all to the thing. Sure, it wasn't hitting him either, but the idea of sitting around watching an endurance match made her want to cry, just a tiny bit. The only thing worse than violent, bloody, gruesome death was mild boredom, after all.

Damn, did Amelia struggle with close-in fighters. Trying to bail 'em out, specifically. Unfortunately, you didn't always get the luxury of a partner smart enough not to practically rub their face on the wisp. Unfortunately, sometimes you ended up in a stalemate, with your six-shooter pointed at the head (if that counted as a head, which was up in the air) of a creature and your coworker ignoring your pretty clear instructions to, "for the last time, back off a little!"

The guy was practically making himself a human shield, alright? Reaper shield, if you wanted to be a technically accurate dweeb. She had a shot, she knew that much. They were in a stalemate, her and boredom, and she'd have to move sooner rather than later to break it. She was pretty sure this thing wouldn't actually unmake the man in his current state. Probably. If it was a regular gun, she'd probably not have anything to think about. As was, she had a one-in-six chance of losing employee of the month forever.

Pretty good odds, right?

She laughed, far harder than any aspect of the situation warranted, as though she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious - probably 'cause she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious. For some reason, this didn't seem to reassure her colleague, who finally looked her way for that instead of the instructions. Oh, sure, the sound of someone having fun gets him. Probably made him a spoilsport. Or maybe just a pansy. Both?

Yeah, so the guy's health and well-being weren't that far down her list, in that they were probably at least somewhere on there. But then again... a clean shot offered itself up, and without really thinking about it, her final decision was made. A gun in her hand, and her finger squeezing the trigger. "Screw this-- think fast!"

One in six, right?

...

Oh, that wasn't good.

***

"So, the report might sound bad. But remember, I did tell him to back up."

Skybound

---

Let's Get Down to Business

---

THE DREADED OUTDOORS

Work Binch

"Leave the engine room, Kerry. It'll be fine. You should get out more."

This was not a good day. In fact, it was a bad one. And Kerry had very little intention of sticking with most of their crew, given the circumstances.

See, though she was used to more traditional mechanics at the moment, she wasn't short on less, well, strictly safe creations. Normally, she wouldn't use that expertise, because they were supposed to have people to handle all that so she didn't have to. It didn't look much like they were keeping teamwork in mind, and without depth perception she doubted she could keep up with the brute-force segments of the crew.

For now, preparation was the word of the day. So she sat there, working on a small device; a few, already completed, sat on the table in front of her. Improvised explosives. A little basic, certainly, but enough to give a monster a bad time or effectively clear a path. Mountains weren't the safest place to set off explosives, but her Pyxis meant she could identify weaknesses well enough not to set off a landslide. Or set one off on purpose.

If Ilaria didn't want her destroying the scenery, she shouldn't have made it necessary. "And... done."

"Blockheads, the lot of them!"

Merry overheard them earlier, the ice mage and the Phuvatan mechanic. 'No member unaccounted for', wasn't it? Look at them, going off on their own daring adventures with nary a thought for people like her who had the real jobs, the biggest of which was figuring out how to transport a ship's worth of rations to the top of a mountain. So what if she'd already talked the cargo crew into hauling it up for her? Leadership was a tough burden to bear! Hardly fitting for a delicate maiden such as herself. Did any of them stop to think that maybe she wanted to beat up some monsters and have fun too>

Scoffing under her breath, Merry hefted a full sack of rice onto her shoulder.

Alas, her duty was to the stomachs of the crew. She doubted she'd receive the full sum of her paycheck if she went off frolicking on her own, even if she was confident she could beat Frosty up the mountain. Which she was. But confidence had a habit of bringing attention. And attention brought responsibilities. Which would mean a kiss farewell to her carefree skyship life.

"Still, I bet the view alone would have been worth it," she sighed. Perhaps the imaginary view was a little too enticing. As she daydreamed, her hip caught the corner of a table, sending something rolling off the edge.

"Oop."

With a flash of her Pyxis, Merry's hand snapped to position directly below the plummeting device, catching it neatly.

"Heh, close one."

"You're damned lucky I took safety measures." Kerry snapped. "And careful while you put it down."

She'd taken the time to tie her hair back, keep it out of the way, blind eye now clear to see as she looked up with clear irritation. The cook. Wonderful.

"I'd prefer it if no-one gets blown up."

"Blown up? This little guy?"

She brought the capsule closer for examination, though something on the mechanic's face seemed to catch her attention the moment after.

"It's a bomb. So yes."

Ah. Merry returned it to its siblings, carefully like the lady asked.

"Will you be leading the march with these, Miss..." Eh, what was it again. "M'Dougie?"

"McDougall, and yes, if needs be. It'd be better to know where the bulk of the crew is if anything destructive's necessary."

She looked at Merry with a sigh. "I'd prefer to reserve 'em for terrain clearance or the worst of the creatures. You lot can handle the smaller ones, and I'd recommend someone lead with me. Depth perception'll be important, 'n all that."

"Oh, what fortune!" Someone to foist the micro-management onto. "You see, I was in the midst of gathering the crew myself. Needed quite a number of hands to get all the newly purchased rations to the ship so I've enlisted a sizable portion of the crew to assist me with the cargo. Very sizable, honestly. Ah, but I'm afraid that's where my co-ordination efforts will have to end. It would be much better for a seasoned empyrean like you to take the reins, perhaps seek out a co-leader amongst the more legendary crew, don't you think?"

"You ever do anythin' for yourself?" Kerry spoke wryly, but stood up. "I can handle some of it, but unless I'm mistaken - which I'm not - you're also meant to be keeping charge of some of the ship's operations. Kitchen or engineering: heading a section means you take responsibility in times like this."

There was a slightly sadistic note to the crooked smile she shot Merry. One that indicated she knew exactly what she was doing here.

"So I'll decide the route, and keep us on track. You can babysit the group you so smartly brought together, and make sure none of our cargo gets wrecked on the way."

Eh?

"Eh?" Merry blinked. W-Wait, what just happened here? "Oh. Oh no no, Miss McDougall, that is so... uh, flattering but I must tell you, you are placing far too much faith in me. An overestimation, truly!"

Kerry began to gather up the explosives, before standing and shouldering her pack. She could make more later if they were truly needed. Grin only widening, she clapped a hand on Merry's shoulder.

"No time like the present. I'm sure the crew'll appreciate your efforts once I tell 'em."

"There's nothing to tell!" Her tone became pleading. "Come on, Miss. A first-timer like me? I mean, an operation of that scope would be such a..."

Ah, her excuses weren't scoring this time. Merry's face began to turn red.

"...a chore!"

"Sometimes we've all gotta get our hands dirty. Think of it like a... learning experience. Character-building."

With that, and a slightly pointed look, Kerry released her shoulder and began to walk away.

"Make sure your prep's all done. We've got a whole lotta work ahead."

"This is a big mistake, you know! Gargantuan!"

Merry attempted to jog after the senior but the rice sack on her shoulder had other plans, practically halving her pace.

"Character-building," she muttered, and yelled after Kerry, "You sound like my mother!"

And her sister. And her father. And the vast majority of her academy instructors, for that matter.

Kerry paused, looking back at her struggle to catch up, and chuckled, mostly ignoring the comment. After a moment, she turned to walk away, calling back over her shoulder.

"Glad to have you on board, kid!"