When Iorelle opened her eyes that morning, she did not have the extrasensory perception of imminent danger in the crisp air. The petite woman was scrawled out in a tangle of her bed sheets and limbs, not all of which were her own. She pulled herself up and yawned, trying to free herself without waking her half-stranger of a bedmate. She staggered from the bedside once she managed to get her feet on the floor. The prone man mumbled but sighed backed into sleep. Iorelle stretched before lazily waltzing to her wardrobe and throwing on a long-sleeved green turtle neck and black trousers. The sun had not yet completely risen; she had always awoke with enough time to see it. She had partaken of the festivities last night, but her recreational substance of choice was herbage, and not alcohol, and so she walked to her balcony with a mind and body clear of any impairment. The excitement of the day before had still not left her.
Aenys's rays graced the wondrous city under her gaze, and the native Mithreli smiled at the sight. It was really too bad that her smile was tarnished by panicked screaming in the distance. She narrowed her eyes, wondering who was disturbing the city so early and for what purpose, until horns blew in the distance. It took her a moment to remember what the pattern and tone meant for she had never heard them in actual use before. The city was under attack?! As she realized that she had not mistaken the alarm, a feeling of horror dawned in her mind like the sun, bursting out and covering all with it's fiery exuberance. Mouth agape, she backed inside quickly and closed and locked her balcony door. She whirled around, finding the man she barely remembered looking up at her.
"Good morn... What's going on outside?" Iorelle quickly found her armor and rushed into it, and roused Crythis with a gentle but fast prodding from her foot. The woman looked around frantically for a moment, before spotting her shortsword and hurriedly scoping it up and strapping it to her belt. "Hey!" The man was beside her and grabbed her arm, eyes wide with confusion.
"Don't you hear those horns, Thuralis?" She nearly screeched, recognizing the man as another who belonged here in the College. He walked over to the balcony and opened the door for the muffled alarms had not yet come so close to hear it through the building. Crythis was there, and he peered out curiously after the man left the door ajar. His face was pale when he returned, and he left Iorelle's room half naked without a word. For a moment, the inexperienced woman stood in shock staring wide-eyed at her familiar. The cat came and stood ready at her feet, butting his head on her leg in the direction of the door. She took a deep breath, collecting herself and reminded herself that not only was she trained with a blade but she had magic at her disposal too. She went to her bedside and reached inside, pulling out the Circlet of Seasons. It drummed in her hands. With an experienced hand she fitted the now golden jewelry under her thick hair, a few garnets poking through the waves of soft lavender. She straightened her armor, setting a determined look on her face. Slightly shaking she left her room and headed toward Professor Wassenolf's chambers.
Although not founded on the idea of studying magic, the college, formally named Yurianiumal College after its founder, had become a deposit for those who did study catalysts and their practical applications for it was the largest and most prestigious institution of its like in Mithreal. And although not nearly a school of martial arts, the college also held many who studied the art of fighting. Over time, the college had become an effective additional force for the city, and the surrounding area could theoretically rely on them for protection if fighting came to the city proper. It was a force made primarily of people studying physical means, with those with magical catalysts and experienced professors that learned many different techniques from traveling added in here and there. They were not a formal part of the city's armed forces, but the college was recognized as having valuable assets of that nature.
That was one reason why Iorelle was so agitated and anxious; this attack would not pass her by. She quickened her steps to Professor Wassenolf's chambers, many others rushing around as well in wake of their tumultuous awakenings. She met the man halfway but he did not give her good news. "Iorelle!" She whipped around at the voice, coming to the man's side and joining a small group he had assembled. She knew a few of them but she had not time to greet them as the professor continued in a rushed voice. "The eastern outpost is under attack from seafarers. We've already assembled small teams to go out and bolster the militia. Now, we're gathering the rest of our strength to lend to the Prince." With solemn nods the men and women were off, leaving Iorelle standing with a bit of helplessness in her eyes. Wassenolf took her head in his hands. "You are never alone, my dear, and you know how to protect yourself. Do not panic, but stay wary, and most of all do not get separated from your allies!" He hugged her fiercely before the two parted ways. Her mouth dry as sand, Iorelle watched his back before she went off to find where to report in.
In the few short hours that followed the initial surge of chaos, a force had amassed outside the college. The others who had departed that morning had trickled back in wake of the retreat. They were in no formal ranks or position, but they were still able-bodied men and women most of whom, Mithreal native or not, would fight to the death to protect their home. Iorelle was standing with a group who practiced magic similar to her own and other students were situated in such groups as well. A cacophony of a hundred voices resounded in the college's courtyard and beyond, but they were soon silenced when the Dean levitated above the entrance steps, his magical staff in hand.
"The Prince-" a few cheers were sounded for him, "-is gathering his forces in the city at the stage under The Great Tree. We will give him our strength. Mithreal is ours to defend!" A raucous cheer erupted from the crowd as they, in droves, half marched half jogged from the courtyard and toward the tree. The college was not far from the center of the city, and the jog did nothing to diminish their energy. The students of the college congregated and left ample room for the Prince's other forces. Iorelle, standing with her group with alert eyes, was soon pulled away by her mentor.
"I've spoken with the Dean and some others. Iorelle, we've decided that you would act as our intermediary with the Prince." Iorelle felt her heart drop into her stomach. She had to push her way through the crowd to keep up with Wassenolf. "The administrators are needed in the field; the have the most experience. It would not do to have someone who is not prepared for the fight to have the job, and when we were talking your name was the first to come up." Iorelle knew there were probably a few who had disagreed, but she knew the Dean personally. For once she didn't think that was a good thing. "Iorelle, we have one hundred and forty-three bodies to add to the force currently. Approximately forty of them are sorcerers. We are still gathering all of our strength." Iorelle swallowed thickly, realizing he was telling her this so she could relate it to the Prince. "If you need to contact any of us send a messenger. There are many who cannot fight but still wish to help." Iorelle hoped she qualified for the position, but she knew if she doubted herself she would wind up messing something up. The two made it through the crowd and Iorelle was left standing, staring up at the stage. The Prince was there, resplendent in glittering armor, and she swallowed again, this time tasting bile. "My dear," she turned to her mentor and realized he was trying to get her attention. "He is just a man. Do not be intimidated. I have faith in you." He bent forward and kissed her forehead. "Myself and others are returning to the college to make sure all are roused and aware of the situation. May Harinus walk with you, child." He walked off back to the college.
Iorelle watched him go, trying to keep her legs from shaking. Crythis mewed sympathetically from beside her feet. She looked again at the Prince, and despite what she was just told she shuddered to think she was to be so close to a man with such a reputation. As a significant student at the college she had met many a dignitary and scholar but none matched the Prince's station. She steeled herself the best she could, straightening her tunic and taking a deep breath. She approached the stage, but did not walk onto it. She stood below looking up. When he was not otherwise engaged, Iorelle called up to the Prince. "Prince Anorath!" She stopped and bowed. "My name is Iorelle Reour'noe. I represent Yurianiumal College and its forces. We add our strength to yours." Her voice didn't quaver the way she thought it would.
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"Ah, the notorious Arsenic and Ghost. Any complaints to add, or can I continue?" Ghost snorted at the description; he of all people would hopefully not be such a thing. For someone whose specialty was not being seen he shouldn't be very well known at all. He made a rolling motion with his hand to show he had nothing to say, which was not necessarily true but he had little to say that would actually add to the conversation. He looked up to the strangely-dressed man as the talking continued, many different voices adding more and more contributions both insightful and meaningless.
His memory dribbled back to him the more he observed his fellow former Operatives. Hannibal droned on toward their host and Ghost. He barely paid attention to him, instead looking around aimlessly. He was glad, at least, he had misinterpreted what the man had said and was not going to have to go to Russia. He did not like the idea of stealing from the American Government, as his kind was already their most wanted, but it seemed he had little choice. As the man went on, he wondered what the man would think to offer him. He cared little for money or personal possession, as he could get his hands on practically whatever he wanted on his own.
The quiet man was lost to his own musings as the conversation went in circles. He looked at each person in turn as they spook, each comment making him remember more about who spoke them. Hannibal's continued rambling reminded him that the beast was actually much more well-rounded than his appearance led them to believe. It was, however, just another dot on his ego chart, and his arrogant tone and swagger left a bitter taste in Ghost’s mouth. Citrine was an ambiguous figure to him. He knew she could sense him whenever he was invisible to due her empathetic abilities, and that kind of knowledge made him uneasy. Still, if he remembered correctly she was pretty agreeable. Cheshire was just an odd ball who Ghost had never understood. Arsenic was an angry one, but he couldn’t remember ever being the source of her ire. Altar had one of those techno abilities that he never trusted, and he seemed to accept being under this man’s thumb too easily for Ghost to like.
Hannibal's departure did not surprise him in the least. Ghost watched him go, hoping that that the beast didn’t take their only way of viable escape, but something told him he wouldn’t get out of this that easily. Laraxis might not be able to pull the trigger on Hannibal but that didn’t change his own situation. The group was dismissed, and Ghost trailed behind in a fashion befitting his code name.
The armory was just as he expected it; stocked to the brim. A multitude of guns graced the walls and glass cases, as well as more than a few martial weapons. Ghost himself had never specialized with any archaic weapons himself and he held the belief that they were useless for someone like him who fought enemies that wielded guns. At her seemed interest he remember that Citrine wielded such a weapon and that she knew how to use it. He was much more drawn to the case of small automatic weapons, which held a sinister looking uzi that caught his eye. His gaze lingered on the case before he shambled his way over to the locker that read his name.
After observing the others, Ghost placed his hand on the locker and it pinged open. “Look! Look! I'm the Cheshire Cat!” His head swiveled lazily to take in the sight of the woman in comically colored clothes. He saw Citrine’s coat, quite similar, and held back a groan as he wondered what was within his own locker. A large sheet with cut out holes, perhaps?
He swung the door open, and pulled out a clear rain poncho. He snorted as he realised it must have been a joke because there was more behind it. Most of the clothing given to him was, shockingly, white. He rolled his eyes, preferring the clothing he was already wearing over the ‘luxurious’ clothing being offered. He rolled his eyes, pawing passed the jacket and horrendously matching pants to see if there was anything useful inside. FInding nothing, he closed it and strolled to the case containing a few machine pistols. “Maybe you’re right, Cheshire, and were all going to be supervillains.” He said over his shoulders in reference to the outfits.
His memory dribbled back to him the more he observed his fellow former Operatives. Hannibal droned on toward their host and Ghost. He barely paid attention to him, instead looking around aimlessly. He was glad, at least, he had misinterpreted what the man had said and was not going to have to go to Russia. He did not like the idea of stealing from the American Government, as his kind was already their most wanted, but it seemed he had little choice. As the man went on, he wondered what the man would think to offer him. He cared little for money or personal possession, as he could get his hands on practically whatever he wanted on his own.
The quiet man was lost to his own musings as the conversation went in circles. He looked at each person in turn as they spook, each comment making him remember more about who spoke them. Hannibal's continued rambling reminded him that the beast was actually much more well-rounded than his appearance led them to believe. It was, however, just another dot on his ego chart, and his arrogant tone and swagger left a bitter taste in Ghost’s mouth. Citrine was an ambiguous figure to him. He knew she could sense him whenever he was invisible to due her empathetic abilities, and that kind of knowledge made him uneasy. Still, if he remembered correctly she was pretty agreeable. Cheshire was just an odd ball who Ghost had never understood. Arsenic was an angry one, but he couldn’t remember ever being the source of her ire. Altar had one of those techno abilities that he never trusted, and he seemed to accept being under this man’s thumb too easily for Ghost to like.
Hannibal's departure did not surprise him in the least. Ghost watched him go, hoping that that the beast didn’t take their only way of viable escape, but something told him he wouldn’t get out of this that easily. Laraxis might not be able to pull the trigger on Hannibal but that didn’t change his own situation. The group was dismissed, and Ghost trailed behind in a fashion befitting his code name.
The armory was just as he expected it; stocked to the brim. A multitude of guns graced the walls and glass cases, as well as more than a few martial weapons. Ghost himself had never specialized with any archaic weapons himself and he held the belief that they were useless for someone like him who fought enemies that wielded guns. At her seemed interest he remember that Citrine wielded such a weapon and that she knew how to use it. He was much more drawn to the case of small automatic weapons, which held a sinister looking uzi that caught his eye. His gaze lingered on the case before he shambled his way over to the locker that read his name.
After observing the others, Ghost placed his hand on the locker and it pinged open. “Look! Look! I'm the Cheshire Cat!” His head swiveled lazily to take in the sight of the woman in comically colored clothes. He saw Citrine’s coat, quite similar, and held back a groan as he wondered what was within his own locker. A large sheet with cut out holes, perhaps?
He swung the door open, and pulled out a clear rain poncho. He snorted as he realised it must have been a joke because there was more behind it. Most of the clothing given to him was, shockingly, white. He rolled his eyes, preferring the clothing he was already wearing over the ‘luxurious’ clothing being offered. He rolled his eyes, pawing passed the jacket and horrendously matching pants to see if there was anything useful inside. FInding nothing, he closed it and strolled to the case containing a few machine pistols. “Maybe you’re right, Cheshire, and were all going to be supervillains.” He said over his shoulders in reference to the outfits.
Working on a post! Sorry for the delay, it should be up by tonight if not in the next few hours
^likewise
I'll try to get a post up tonight as well!
EDIT: Crap I forgot I had a thing to go to tonight for school. :/
EDIT: Crap I forgot I had a thing to go to tonight for school. :/
Alright rad :)
Psht this site. I saw someone triple post on one thread today. e.e
Finally done! If there's anything I took too much liberty with just let me know. I wasn't sure how you wanted the familiars to work, so i kinda winged it. I have no problem with anything needing to be changed, really. ^.^
Name: Iorelle Reour'noe
Age: 246
Race: Mithreli
Appearance: Iorelle is quite a comely woman. Her sea-foam green skin, unblemished and tanned, glows healthily with its own brilliance in the sun. Ringlets of soft lavender hair, the same delicate color of her wide eyes, fall halfway down her back. Angular features including slightly slanted eyes grace her face. Her mouth forms a slight pout, although it's rarely seen without being pulled into a pleasant smile. A spattering of freckles can be seen along the bridge of her nose. She stands tall at 5'9" with willowy limbs and thin protruding bones. She normally wears her green leather armor and bracers, as well as black leggings, black boots, and some sort of blouse worn under her leather tunic. A belt, hung with sundry pouches, wraps around her slim waist and holds her shortsword.
Combat Type: Spellsword (or "Nature's Duet" as she calls it at times)
The graceful Mithreli can handle her blade well enough to be called proficient with it. However, she also makes use of a magic relic she acquired in her past: the Circlet of Seasons. Iorelle fights alongside a summoned creature when combat gets serious(or, she will). Iorelle has an animal companion that has evolved into her familiar, Crythis. Crythis is always beside Iorelle and follows her into battle. The powers, attributes, and vitality of her summoned companions vary greatly.
Magic Proficiency: Summoner
Iorelle has had much practice with her catalyst and her specific uses for it. However, most of her uses of the item to summon creatures were for creatures that were small and docile. Part of her magic is that used to control the animal. The larger and more violent/malcontent the animal is the harder it is to control. When she has a summoned creature active, Iorelle retains a magical mental and physical connection with the animal. She cannot sense it as efficiently or deeply as her familiar but she knows how the animal feels and what it's thinking, and has influence over its actions. Her experience has brought her challenges, but Crythis is one of the largest things she's summoned.
Arms/Armor: She wields a steel shortsword of medium-quality make which she has had for many years. It has no unique qualities, although she has lovingly named it Ryn. The blade rests at her right hip, as she is left-handed. Her main piece of armor is a leather tunic dyed green with matching bracers; her lower attire is not particularly armor. She wears a cloak when the weather deems necessary. The most eye-catching thing on her person is an elegant circlet.
Catalyst Description: A magical conduit given to her by her scholarly mentor, the Circlet of Seasons is a delicate-looking piece of jewelry that rest on Iorelle's forehead. Its appearance morphs and changes with the seasons. The metal of the Circlet is warm with a life-like pulse.
Personality: A pleasant and congenial person, her most common look is an endearing smile. She is kind and gregarious; she'll talk and listen to a companion whenever they or she should need. Along with her happy attitude comes an easy sense of humor and an ability to accept the fact that other's have opinions different than her own. Iorelle is easy to get along with and normally brings out the best in people. However, her understanding nature hides a more brutal sense of morality. Iorelle believes in balance; predators must exist to encourage the constant adaptation of prey, meaning she believes in competition, survival of the fittest, and can often downplay significant negative events as just the low points on her karmic record. One must take the bad with the good.
Character Bio: Iorelle Reour'noe was born to a lower-class family in a small village far away from Mithreal. It lay east of the great city on the out-skirts of Hol'Vollom. The village comprised of one enormous hollow tree, with the entire village being based out of that tree. Hel'Vernuum, or Vernuum's Tree ((if that's alright GM, its not that important)) was named for the family that lived at the very base of the establishment. Iorelle's family lived high in the tree in a less than desirable position. The hollowed interior that allowed the Elves to inhabit the trees are small toward the top, and her family had to travel down the length of almost the entire tree to get to do even simple trading. Her mother worked in a tavern as a server and her father was an unskilled laborer who found work where he could.
Iorelle was an inquisitive, intelligent child, but her curiosity always made her look like a mischievous child. In her youth she spent much time trying to get into the forest proper to explore and study the many animals she found so interesting. Although not very dangerous so close to a substantial population, the wilderness is not a safe place for a small child. She spent just as much time being dragged home as exploring the forest floor. The small family had little money or possessions and her parents were too often tired of the girl's antics to have much patience with her. She was never very close with her parents and preferred going to the library to read scientific novels and articles on various exotic and rare animals than spending time at home.
As she entered adolescence Iorelle met a traveling professor who had come out to venture into Hol'Vollom. His troupe had been attacked by bandits and discovered by passing hunters from Hel'Vernuum. After joinging forces and driving the raiders back (the natives having recognized the raiders' dress and motive) the hunters led him and his group back to the village. Iorelle was there watching when the disheveled group had been brought in. Due to a serious wound on one of their own, the visitors had decided to stay at Hel'Vernuum while he recovered. Upon hearing the news Iorelle wanted to meet the professor. She eventually did, after an unsuccessful caper to get money to buy a room at the inn he was staying, and the professor took warmly to the curious and courageous child.
When Profession Wassenolf had passed through, he had been one his way to study some of the animals that inhabited the deeper regions of Hol'Vollom. He had a penchant for toads and frogs and was going specifically to find a particular type of frog that froze itself solid over the winter. Many of the village-folk advised them not to travel in such harsh conditions but it hadn't mattered: they missed the time frame of the frog's freezing period due to their comrade's injury. After much debate over funds and other such matters, they were offered a place at the inn for the next year if the group would make themselves useful to the innkeeper and other patrons of the community.
Iorelle was more than thrilled. Day in and day out she was at the professor's side, asking about his adventures here, what discoveries he had made there, or what the people were like in this corner of the world. There was never enough time in the day to answer all of her questions and after the next sunrise her head would again be filled with completely different inquiries. By the time the expedition rolled around again, Iorelle had expected to tag along. Unfortunately, she was too young, and was left behind. The girl understood but was still disappointed. They came back at the end of the next spring, laden with samples and observation logs bound for the college in Mithreal. The young woman was prepared to say her goodbyes, but to her surprise his time away made the professor think about the girl and miss her. He asked her to return with him to the college and study under him.
Despite her unquenchable curiosity she didn't take well to prolonged lessons. After a few months he enrolled the girl in simple combat classes to help curb some of her rambunctious energy. As time went on, it was clear to the professor that the life of a scholar did not yet fit this young woman. Having grown to love and cherish her, he believed that the girl was destined for something. And so, he gave her own of his most prized possessions: the Circlet of Seasons. He gave the girl as much training as he could with it, as well as employed his intellectual comrades to aid in her arcane training as well. The girls indomitable will excelled in the use.
Over time, Wassenolf realized her potential. He began to send her off to obscure places to find and observe animals, and then return to the college and summon them for further study. This is how Iorelle has spent much of her life thus far. She has gone on several non-work related trips, but she enjoys her assignments and the people she works with and is typically in Mithreal.
Crythis, who is Iorelle's familiar and animal companion, is a Jaguarundi or eyra cat. Crythis is larger than average for his species thanks to the attentive care of his master. He has a lithe 33 inch long body with a 24 inch long tail. At the shoulders he is about 16 inches tall. The cat weighs a little less than 30 lbs. His fur is a rusty red and he has bright green eyes. The cat follows his elven companion along faithfully and without hesitation. The cat fights alongside her using his claws, teeth, and agility. His status as Iorelle's familiar gives them a supernatural bond. Iorelle can use the eyra as a sensual-conduit, meaning she can can see, hear, feel, smell, and even taste as Crythis does if she so chose to, and can take control of his body to do simple tasks. She can also cast spells through the cat, though the nature of her arcane ability makes it so that isn't always useful. Crythis gains a supernatural intelligence for his species thanks to the link.
Finally done! If there's anything I took too much liberty with just let me know. I wasn't sure how you wanted the familiars to work, so i kinda winged it. I have no problem with anything needing to be changed, really. ^.^
Name: Iorelle Reour'noe
Age: 246
Race: Mithreli
Appearance: Iorelle is quite a comely woman. Her sea-foam green skin, unblemished and tanned, glows healthily with its own brilliance in the sun. Ringlets of soft lavender hair, the same delicate color of her wide eyes, fall halfway down her back. Angular features including slightly slanted eyes grace her face. Her mouth forms a slight pout, although it's rarely seen without being pulled into a pleasant smile. A spattering of freckles can be seen along the bridge of her nose. She stands tall at 5'9" with willowy limbs and thin protruding bones. She normally wears her green leather armor and bracers, as well as black leggings, black boots, and some sort of blouse worn under her leather tunic. A belt, hung with sundry pouches, wraps around her slim waist and holds her shortsword.
Combat Type: Spellsword (or "Nature's Duet" as she calls it at times)
The graceful Mithreli can handle her blade well enough to be called proficient with it. However, she also makes use of a magic relic she acquired in her past: the Circlet of Seasons. Iorelle fights alongside a summoned creature when combat gets serious(or, she will). Iorelle has an animal companion that has evolved into her familiar, Crythis. Crythis is always beside Iorelle and follows her into battle. The powers, attributes, and vitality of her summoned companions vary greatly.
Magic Proficiency: Summoner
Iorelle has had much practice with her catalyst and her specific uses for it. However, most of her uses of the item to summon creatures were for creatures that were small and docile. Part of her magic is that used to control the animal. The larger and more violent/malcontent the animal is the harder it is to control. When she has a summoned creature active, Iorelle retains a magical mental and physical connection with the animal. She cannot sense it as efficiently or deeply as her familiar but she knows how the animal feels and what it's thinking, and has influence over its actions. Her experience has brought her challenges, but Crythis is one of the largest things she's summoned.
Arms/Armor: She wields a steel shortsword of medium-quality make which she has had for many years. It has no unique qualities, although she has lovingly named it Ryn. The blade rests at her right hip, as she is left-handed. Her main piece of armor is a leather tunic dyed green with matching bracers; her lower attire is not particularly armor. She wears a cloak when the weather deems necessary. The most eye-catching thing on her person is an elegant circlet.
Catalyst Description: A magical conduit given to her by her scholarly mentor, the Circlet of Seasons is a delicate-looking piece of jewelry that rest on Iorelle's forehead. Its appearance morphs and changes with the seasons. The metal of the Circlet is warm with a life-like pulse.
Personality: A pleasant and congenial person, her most common look is an endearing smile. She is kind and gregarious; she'll talk and listen to a companion whenever they or she should need. Along with her happy attitude comes an easy sense of humor and an ability to accept the fact that other's have opinions different than her own. Iorelle is easy to get along with and normally brings out the best in people. However, her understanding nature hides a more brutal sense of morality. Iorelle believes in balance; predators must exist to encourage the constant adaptation of prey, meaning she believes in competition, survival of the fittest, and can often downplay significant negative events as just the low points on her karmic record. One must take the bad with the good.
Character Bio: Iorelle Reour'noe was born to a lower-class family in a small village far away from Mithreal. It lay east of the great city on the out-skirts of Hol'Vollom. The village comprised of one enormous hollow tree, with the entire village being based out of that tree. Hel'Vernuum, or Vernuum's Tree ((if that's alright GM, its not that important)) was named for the family that lived at the very base of the establishment. Iorelle's family lived high in the tree in a less than desirable position. The hollowed interior that allowed the Elves to inhabit the trees are small toward the top, and her family had to travel down the length of almost the entire tree to get to do even simple trading. Her mother worked in a tavern as a server and her father was an unskilled laborer who found work where he could.
Iorelle was an inquisitive, intelligent child, but her curiosity always made her look like a mischievous child. In her youth she spent much time trying to get into the forest proper to explore and study the many animals she found so interesting. Although not very dangerous so close to a substantial population, the wilderness is not a safe place for a small child. She spent just as much time being dragged home as exploring the forest floor. The small family had little money or possessions and her parents were too often tired of the girl's antics to have much patience with her. She was never very close with her parents and preferred going to the library to read scientific novels and articles on various exotic and rare animals than spending time at home.
As she entered adolescence Iorelle met a traveling professor who had come out to venture into Hol'Vollom. His troupe had been attacked by bandits and discovered by passing hunters from Hel'Vernuum. After joinging forces and driving the raiders back (the natives having recognized the raiders' dress and motive) the hunters led him and his group back to the village. Iorelle was there watching when the disheveled group had been brought in. Due to a serious wound on one of their own, the visitors had decided to stay at Hel'Vernuum while he recovered. Upon hearing the news Iorelle wanted to meet the professor. She eventually did, after an unsuccessful caper to get money to buy a room at the inn he was staying, and the professor took warmly to the curious and courageous child.
When Profession Wassenolf had passed through, he had been one his way to study some of the animals that inhabited the deeper regions of Hol'Vollom. He had a penchant for toads and frogs and was going specifically to find a particular type of frog that froze itself solid over the winter. Many of the village-folk advised them not to travel in such harsh conditions but it hadn't mattered: they missed the time frame of the frog's freezing period due to their comrade's injury. After much debate over funds and other such matters, they were offered a place at the inn for the next year if the group would make themselves useful to the innkeeper and other patrons of the community.
Iorelle was more than thrilled. Day in and day out she was at the professor's side, asking about his adventures here, what discoveries he had made there, or what the people were like in this corner of the world. There was never enough time in the day to answer all of her questions and after the next sunrise her head would again be filled with completely different inquiries. By the time the expedition rolled around again, Iorelle had expected to tag along. Unfortunately, she was too young, and was left behind. The girl understood but was still disappointed. They came back at the end of the next spring, laden with samples and observation logs bound for the college in Mithreal. The young woman was prepared to say her goodbyes, but to her surprise his time away made the professor think about the girl and miss her. He asked her to return with him to the college and study under him.
Despite her unquenchable curiosity she didn't take well to prolonged lessons. After a few months he enrolled the girl in simple combat classes to help curb some of her rambunctious energy. As time went on, it was clear to the professor that the life of a scholar did not yet fit this young woman. Having grown to love and cherish her, he believed that the girl was destined for something. And so, he gave her own of his most prized possessions: the Circlet of Seasons. He gave the girl as much training as he could with it, as well as employed his intellectual comrades to aid in her arcane training as well. The girls indomitable will excelled in the use.
Over time, Wassenolf realized her potential. He began to send her off to obscure places to find and observe animals, and then return to the college and summon them for further study. This is how Iorelle has spent much of her life thus far. She has gone on several non-work related trips, but she enjoys her assignments and the people she works with and is typically in Mithreal.
The fan rotating lazily above his bed and the drum of the TV helped the dreary attitude of Ghost's dingy hotel room. Somewhere near the border of New York and Vermont, he was laying low on his way to Canada. He had never been out of the country on his own before, that is, without being at the end of a leash, and liked the sound of settling down in a small French cafe every morning for breakfast. Theodore was not particularly excited for the move, more curious as to what living there would be like. He would most likely wind up leaving. And staying in more dingy hotel rooms until he made it to another city that would hold his attention for less then a year. Just another passing face on public transit.
"Thank you Sandra. Now, on to other news. There's a memorial service today in remembrance for the tragic event that happened with Obsidian just two years ago..." Ghost sighed and curled himself into a sitting position at the mention, immediately searching for the remote to change the channel. His pale hands patted the horrendously patterned duvet below him as he yawned; he was tired and bored after an uneventful morning. Ghost existed on a inconsistent yet reliable income from his questionable profession. He rarely lacked the money to stay at a nicer hotel, but he preferred the quick and dirty atmosphere of lesser establishments. Five star hotels reminded him of his time as an Operative, whereas a dirty hotel room made him think of his time before he had joined Obsidian.
He finally slapped his hand down on the remote and drew it to him. He rubbed a hand down his face as he flicked through the channels aimlessly until his control of the thing frizzed out. Brow furrowed as he continued to click and gesture with the remote, he grumbled. Into view came an unfamiliar figure, dressed in an strangely yet pious fashion. A black mask hid his features. But the part of the scene that drew Ghost's attention was the device in his hand.
At first, Ghost watched with a tilted head and suspicious visage, but the gravity of the situation settled on him as the man continued. His voice was chilling, but what was truly unnerving was the message it bore. After a brief moment of panic, followed by a thudding pulse then much relief as the unknown figure selected and dispatched a random somewhat-martyr for his cause, Ghost stood, the remote limp in his hand. "... And, for your sake, I do hope you consider." At that, Ghost (sputtering mild curses every so often) started to shove his clothes into his backpack. He threw his few sundry belongings in as well. He grabbed his key and stopped at the door, looking around to make sure he didn't forget anything. Satisfied, his hustled out the door and into the lobby, and then fidgeted through his whole transaction with the receptionist. She popped her gum, looking up at him with clearly suspicious eyes as the old computer whirred through his transaction.
"Here," she muttered at him as he quickly grabbed his change (for he had paid in cash) and quickly walked out the door. It was late afternoon, and he knew he could get into a hotel by midnight if he left now. It was late, and traffic wouldn't be too bad if he stayed outside the city proper. Ghost didn't think he was very frightened, but the more he thought on the man's threat, the thicker the infested blood running through his veins felt. He knew he couldn't be sure that the device the man had used was indeed what he claimed, but the prospect was enough for Ghost to consider it as a threat. His four hour drive was passed with thoughts heavy with the people he would see the next day, apprehension the main emotion dampening his chest like early morning fog. His sojourn felt more like a midnight reckoning hour than a countryside stroll.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ghost managed to hole up in a decent hotel a little ways away from the city. The next morning, dressed freshly in a green shirt and dark jeans, he was tucked away on the subway, having decided to take the trip incognito. He stood awkwardly vigilant on the subway, making sure to not alert anyone to his presence. It was one of the many times of day New York's public transit was packed tight and so he had to be careful to stay out of peoples' way. When he finally got to his stop in the city, he had much trouble removing himself from the subway. More than a few people were tripped as he was bumped around by unsuspecting passersby, but he managed to hurry away and up onto the street without too much suspicion. On the street, his used his normal technique for maneuvering metropolitan areas; he climbed across the faces of buildings. It was not major act of gymnastics, though it did show he was athletic(or at least it would have had anyone actually saw it). Perched on a particularly high overhang, Ghost tapped his foot impatiently as he scanned the crowd for any familiar faces.
He laughed at himself a moment later, the sound lost to the cacophony that sounded from the city engulfing him. He hoped dearly that he had come at the right time. Police had invaded the Square, and he was careful to keep from getting too close. A cop would be the one to immediately suspect an Operative if he noticed a spot of empty space at this time of day, especially because they were on high alert. He stood there for a long while before he saw a familiar face. Having gotten there around 9 o'clock, it took Ghost a little while to spot a woman seated at a bench who triggered something in his memory. He shuddered when he realized who it was; Cheshire. The strange woman made him cringe. After a few moments of him watching her, he figured she was just waiting around like him.
It was a little less than an hour later when things got a little more interesting. He spotted another familiar woman just as she entered the square. Citrine, well-dressed as ever, came striding purposely through the square. As he tried to keep an eye on both of them, the same strange interaction played out twice before him. They were both approached by shady looking characters and handed something his couldn't quite discern. Then, both of them hurried out of the Square and headed off to some destination unknown to Ghost.
He groaned as he realized that if he wanted in on the party, he would have to get an invitation. The one advantage he had over the other Operatives was that his face wasn't that well known, so when he dipped into an ally and back out, now visible, he was too worried about anyone who wasn't looking specifically for him. He wondered aimlessly for a bit before the same thing happened to him that did the two others he had observed. A man approached him, handed him a wallet that had definitely not been his, and disappeared. He opened it to find a few hundred bucks and a convincing ID with his picture. A note was there too, and he was soon on his way to Magnet Theater at a brisk pace.
Ghost went invisible again as soon as he could. Admittedly, he had felt a little naked before and was worried about how many people on the street were working for the masked man. He was anxious to catch up with the other Operatives and nearly jogged to the theater. Ghost had made very few enemies during his time with Obsidian and had departed on good terms with more than a few other Operatives. In this predicament, he knew he'd have a better chance with a few allies by his side. But he knew not to rely on anyone else just yet. He went inside with the feeling that the other's he had seen would most likely already be encountering something sinister. He made it the the theater and rushed inside. He only stood around for a moment before a door, marked for employees, swung open and a child came out. She directed him to the elevator and nearly shoved him inside, pressing a button and leaving just as quickly as she had come. The elevator dinged as it descended, soft music playing in the background. Ghost reappeared. If the elevator opened and they saw no one inside, it would be pretty obvious that it was him who had come down.
When the elevator stopped, Theodore took a deep breath and took a calm exodus from the metal box. It closed behind him, and he approached a gathering of familiar figures. The very first of which, who commanded the attention of everyone in a room, was the hulking beast that passed for an Operative, Hannibal. With how little control they actually had over the creature, Ghost had wondered often in the past, and again in that moment, why he had stuck around with them for as long as he did. Hannibal was both a good and bad thing. If shit hit the fan, following the lizard-man would probably be a good chance of survival. That is, if you didn't get in the way or look particularly appetizing. The escape route hovered in his mind as he walked slowly forward, wondering whether that act would be considered weak by the creature and warrant digestion. He didn't have any idea where he stood in the creature's eye and didn't even attempted to assume what that station would be. He decided that it would be safest to just stay away from him if he could.
Finally, Ghost looked up to the man who had reactivated the invisible noose around his neck. No mask hid his features now, and Ghost made sure to get a good look at his face. He had come in just as the man started talking of his plan. "An intelligence agency in New York recently recovered the blueprints of a prototype weapon created by the Russians. This device has the potential to create an artificial mini-black hole. I need it, which means I need you, preferably alive..." Ghost held back a groan. He hated going to Russia.
"Thank you Sandra. Now, on to other news. There's a memorial service today in remembrance for the tragic event that happened with Obsidian just two years ago..." Ghost sighed and curled himself into a sitting position at the mention, immediately searching for the remote to change the channel. His pale hands patted the horrendously patterned duvet below him as he yawned; he was tired and bored after an uneventful morning. Ghost existed on a inconsistent yet reliable income from his questionable profession. He rarely lacked the money to stay at a nicer hotel, but he preferred the quick and dirty atmosphere of lesser establishments. Five star hotels reminded him of his time as an Operative, whereas a dirty hotel room made him think of his time before he had joined Obsidian.
He finally slapped his hand down on the remote and drew it to him. He rubbed a hand down his face as he flicked through the channels aimlessly until his control of the thing frizzed out. Brow furrowed as he continued to click and gesture with the remote, he grumbled. Into view came an unfamiliar figure, dressed in an strangely yet pious fashion. A black mask hid his features. But the part of the scene that drew Ghost's attention was the device in his hand.
At first, Ghost watched with a tilted head and suspicious visage, but the gravity of the situation settled on him as the man continued. His voice was chilling, but what was truly unnerving was the message it bore. After a brief moment of panic, followed by a thudding pulse then much relief as the unknown figure selected and dispatched a random somewhat-martyr for his cause, Ghost stood, the remote limp in his hand. "... And, for your sake, I do hope you consider." At that, Ghost (sputtering mild curses every so often) started to shove his clothes into his backpack. He threw his few sundry belongings in as well. He grabbed his key and stopped at the door, looking around to make sure he didn't forget anything. Satisfied, his hustled out the door and into the lobby, and then fidgeted through his whole transaction with the receptionist. She popped her gum, looking up at him with clearly suspicious eyes as the old computer whirred through his transaction.
"Here," she muttered at him as he quickly grabbed his change (for he had paid in cash) and quickly walked out the door. It was late afternoon, and he knew he could get into a hotel by midnight if he left now. It was late, and traffic wouldn't be too bad if he stayed outside the city proper. Ghost didn't think he was very frightened, but the more he thought on the man's threat, the thicker the infested blood running through his veins felt. He knew he couldn't be sure that the device the man had used was indeed what he claimed, but the prospect was enough for Ghost to consider it as a threat. His four hour drive was passed with thoughts heavy with the people he would see the next day, apprehension the main emotion dampening his chest like early morning fog. His sojourn felt more like a midnight reckoning hour than a countryside stroll.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ghost managed to hole up in a decent hotel a little ways away from the city. The next morning, dressed freshly in a green shirt and dark jeans, he was tucked away on the subway, having decided to take the trip incognito. He stood awkwardly vigilant on the subway, making sure to not alert anyone to his presence. It was one of the many times of day New York's public transit was packed tight and so he had to be careful to stay out of peoples' way. When he finally got to his stop in the city, he had much trouble removing himself from the subway. More than a few people were tripped as he was bumped around by unsuspecting passersby, but he managed to hurry away and up onto the street without too much suspicion. On the street, his used his normal technique for maneuvering metropolitan areas; he climbed across the faces of buildings. It was not major act of gymnastics, though it did show he was athletic(or at least it would have had anyone actually saw it). Perched on a particularly high overhang, Ghost tapped his foot impatiently as he scanned the crowd for any familiar faces.
He laughed at himself a moment later, the sound lost to the cacophony that sounded from the city engulfing him. He hoped dearly that he had come at the right time. Police had invaded the Square, and he was careful to keep from getting too close. A cop would be the one to immediately suspect an Operative if he noticed a spot of empty space at this time of day, especially because they were on high alert. He stood there for a long while before he saw a familiar face. Having gotten there around 9 o'clock, it took Ghost a little while to spot a woman seated at a bench who triggered something in his memory. He shuddered when he realized who it was; Cheshire. The strange woman made him cringe. After a few moments of him watching her, he figured she was just waiting around like him.
It was a little less than an hour later when things got a little more interesting. He spotted another familiar woman just as she entered the square. Citrine, well-dressed as ever, came striding purposely through the square. As he tried to keep an eye on both of them, the same strange interaction played out twice before him. They were both approached by shady looking characters and handed something his couldn't quite discern. Then, both of them hurried out of the Square and headed off to some destination unknown to Ghost.
He groaned as he realized that if he wanted in on the party, he would have to get an invitation. The one advantage he had over the other Operatives was that his face wasn't that well known, so when he dipped into an ally and back out, now visible, he was too worried about anyone who wasn't looking specifically for him. He wondered aimlessly for a bit before the same thing happened to him that did the two others he had observed. A man approached him, handed him a wallet that had definitely not been his, and disappeared. He opened it to find a few hundred bucks and a convincing ID with his picture. A note was there too, and he was soon on his way to Magnet Theater at a brisk pace.
Ghost went invisible again as soon as he could. Admittedly, he had felt a little naked before and was worried about how many people on the street were working for the masked man. He was anxious to catch up with the other Operatives and nearly jogged to the theater. Ghost had made very few enemies during his time with Obsidian and had departed on good terms with more than a few other Operatives. In this predicament, he knew he'd have a better chance with a few allies by his side. But he knew not to rely on anyone else just yet. He went inside with the feeling that the other's he had seen would most likely already be encountering something sinister. He made it the the theater and rushed inside. He only stood around for a moment before a door, marked for employees, swung open and a child came out. She directed him to the elevator and nearly shoved him inside, pressing a button and leaving just as quickly as she had come. The elevator dinged as it descended, soft music playing in the background. Ghost reappeared. If the elevator opened and they saw no one inside, it would be pretty obvious that it was him who had come down.
When the elevator stopped, Theodore took a deep breath and took a calm exodus from the metal box. It closed behind him, and he approached a gathering of familiar figures. The very first of which, who commanded the attention of everyone in a room, was the hulking beast that passed for an Operative, Hannibal. With how little control they actually had over the creature, Ghost had wondered often in the past, and again in that moment, why he had stuck around with them for as long as he did. Hannibal was both a good and bad thing. If shit hit the fan, following the lizard-man would probably be a good chance of survival. That is, if you didn't get in the way or look particularly appetizing. The escape route hovered in his mind as he walked slowly forward, wondering whether that act would be considered weak by the creature and warrant digestion. He didn't have any idea where he stood in the creature's eye and didn't even attempted to assume what that station would be. He decided that it would be safest to just stay away from him if he could.
Finally, Ghost looked up to the man who had reactivated the invisible noose around his neck. No mask hid his features now, and Ghost made sure to get a good look at his face. He had come in just as the man started talking of his plan. "An intelligence agency in New York recently recovered the blueprints of a prototype weapon created by the Russians. This device has the potential to create an artificial mini-black hole. I need it, which means I need you, preferably alive..." Ghost held back a groan. He hated going to Russia.
He has remained invisible for up to eight hours but has never pushed it further. For intangibility, he can only do his whole body for a few moments, but can keep a limb intangible for long enough to grab something and bring it to him.
The jist I was trying to go for was that he has never pushed his powers past what he knows he can do because he has no desire to. I should've made that clear in his CS. I'm gonna add a relavent paragraph to his personality at that actually.
The jist I was trying to go for was that he has never pushed his powers past what he knows he can do because he has no desire to. I should've made that clear in his CS. I'm gonna add a relavent paragraph to his personality at that actually.
Finished Ghost's CS. Sorry his history is a bit anticlimactic. :V
But anyways Im hoping to have the time this afternoon to read through the IC and get an intro post up!
But anyways Im hoping to have the time this afternoon to read through the IC and get an intro post up!
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