ShyDot

THE UNDYING CRUSADE

Hild smelled them long before she heard them.

Kin. Hild's lips twitched as fond memories made themselves known. Of men whose steps were heavy, their bodies clad in hard plate and their faith as sure as the iron of their arms, upon her own arms. Grim folk, reliable folk, and frequent companions in her hunt for all things unsavory and dark and defiling.

They carried with them certain scents. An underlining of their namesake, but that grave soil freshness was distant. The smell of corpses was a closer relative, unsurprising with the nature of their work, but overpowering it all was incense that cut through the foulness and diversified scent portfolio of the basic rabble from which she was distanced, and the touches of pine and lemon. Welcome relief to her nose, and a sign that perhaps she wasn't the only one who wished to scour away the unclean air.

Or, Hild noted with an upwards tilt of her head, her ear turned to the noise of a procession, perhaps it was just the usual procession. The metal march was a poor choice in the soaking downpour, but Hild was willing to admit that they were all rather caught in ceremony. Her iconographic mantle repelled water surprisingly nicely, but even it was beginning to soak.

Despite the darkness of the world around her, Hild felt no surprise when one of those men of iron approached her; her ears tracked his metal sounds, the few short steps he had to take to close the distance, and her nose tracked his lemon scent. Know your manners. Hild turned her head in the general direction of the Knight of the Grave; that she could not and would never be able to see him did not matter. She tilted her head somewhat downwards, accounting for the lower area in which his voice originated. Not the tallest man, but she was not the shortest woman either.

"Hail, good sir." she greeted, nodding her head softly. His voice was kind, whilst hers was... Neither cold nor heated. Simple and courteous, as she preferred with those not deserving of her ire. "Your presence is welcome in this endeavor." As is your scent, she did not say. She was given to understand such remarks were oftentimes unsettling.

Her hand tightened around her water-slicked staff as she tested it upon the ground beside her. It gave easily under the pressure, and so she prodded once, twice more, and slowly followed in its movement. The wet earth was a nightmare, but not insurmountable. In the midst of sidestepping closer to her kin-in-faith, she spoke. "I hail from no standing convent," The thought was as bitter as ever, "But serve our lord all the same. As do you, in your assemblage."

She planted her staff, and steadied herself with it once more, standing straight and with pride. The rain beat down on her, but she knew better than most the importance of posture.

THE UNDYING CRUSADE

Hild's thoughts followed a vaguely similar path to Mynn's without me even reading the elf's post. "Too much smell."

THE UNDYING CRUSADE

Greater Cardinal War Camp

In the shadow of war, death followed.

Or so went the saying, Hild mused with a small sliver of private amusement. In reality, death's followers went in the shadow of war's smell.

Hild Zuversicht heaved a heavy sigh to dispel some of the foulness clogging her nostrils, as thick and suffocating as mud to her sharply honed senses. It was offset somewhat by the smell of her candle, but her nose was far too sharp to ever fail at catching the foul scents of war and the human body upon the wind, whether she wished to smell such things or not. The camp of Lady Stormsparrow was better than most, as heavy as it was with those who kept themselves (literally) religiously clean, but her nose was keen indeed.

These were familiar smells to the inquisitorial priest; her work was steeped in blood, death, and the foul aftermath of said death; she would be a poor servant of Nethelin if she could not handle offal and other... Camp scents. And she was anything but a poor priest.

By now, the stench was comforting in its familiarity, though no less foul for that bittersweet recognition.

Hild shook off the intrusive thoughts, deftly dipping two fingers into the basin that she knew lay beside her, to the right of her mat upon which she knelt. Her fingers found the flame, and snuffed it out. It was a treasured part of her prayer ritual, for all that she could not admire the flame as most others did. There was still something admirable to found about it, after all.

The smell of burning.

And thus, Hild's preparations were almost complete: Her various metal pieces were thoroughly examined by hand and cleaned as appropriate, including her staff, her clothes were as neat as they could be in the midst of a war camp, and the subtle smell of the candle that would cling to her for awhile longer would remind those around her of the flame -and keep their stench away. Were she traveling with other priests of the Dead Man, lengthier rituals and recitations would have followed. Alas, she had traveled here alone, though those of Nethelin's faith were still highly prominent.

With a twitch of her lips, Hild dragged the comforting band of black cloth back over her sightless eyes, and quickly scooped up her staff from its resting position. Almost as pristine as the day she had first held it. Firm and familiar in her grasp, protection against gnashing things that were in need of her attentions.

A few short steps carried the priest of Nethelin out of her favored tent, though the world remained as blackened as it ever had been for the grim woman. The scent hit her like a flying fist, but it remained a familiar strike against her senses, and was weathered with all of the grace befitting a priest of death. The rain was less welcome. Hild's resting grimace became a cold frown as she centered herself, and considered the sudden rush of noise that had overtaken the camp. The downpour was... Comforting, but the mud would be hell upon her shoes if she did not move fast.

If only I had a horse. It was no matter. With or without a mount which had functioning eyes, Hild had navigated the winding confusion of war camps thousands of times before. The trick to it was to move with the flow of the chaos; the noise had come from a particular direction, and according to the message most should be heading in that direction. Ergo, the simple trick was to follow the paths with the most traffic, judging by the level of noise. It was made somewhat more difficult by the noise of rain, but easier as well; a constant sound by which to judge distances had its applications.

Graceful and assured of her stride, the priest of Nethelin's trip to the center of the camp was made with only minimal snags; many years of practice within camps and one's entire early lifetime within the bustle of a town made blind navigation more of a chore than a challenge, and the sucking of the mud at her shoes was fought against with as much easy grace as ever. Her grip upon her staff remained firm as it became slick with rainwater.

And then, she was there, listening closely as men and women gathered in massive numbers. Distances were weighed, and numbers considered. Finally, she navigated herself to what seemed to be the edge of the center with an intensifying grimace. While her own antipathy was partially to blame, it was also a matter of simple pragmatism; the Duchess was an inspiring figure by all accounts, which meant many energized men and women, which meant much screaming and hollering and an almost solid wall of noise against her ears would follow soon.

It was sure to be interesting, at the least; Hild could say that she did not hate the Duchess. Her words were to be listened to, and respected for the weight they carried with them. And so, she lingered and listened, her ears trained and her mind vigilant for that ringing that forever followed her sworn enemies.

These were fascinating times.

THE UNDYING CRUSADE

Hild Zuversicht

Hild Zuversicht

Age: 27

Race: Human

Deity: Nethelin

Appearance

Although Hild does not know of her place of origin, she bears the features of one born from Melfician stock; her skin is tanned both naturally and by many long hours in the sun, and she stands at a striking 1.85 meters, with a long braid of vibrant red hair. Her figure is thin and almost willowy, but long warfare has hardened her with wiry muscle and the strength of an experienced fighter. Her features are sharp, and perfectly fit the grimace that often crosses her face.

The priest's clothing carries with it the thematic colors of her lord: Black underclothes and padding, a grey gambeson and pants, and a black mantle decorated rather heavily with the symbols of the lord of the dead. She is covered almost entirely, from the heavy mantle down to her short, black shoes -save for her bare hands, and has numerous pouches containing various necessities. Her sightless eyes are hidden away with a pitch black blindfold, and a plain iron circlet rests atop her head. Each of her ring fingers bears a silver band, and her arms -as well as her wrists and ankles- are decorated with the blackened iron bangles denoting her faith.

Personality

Most who meet Hild would describe her as the antithesis of her beloved deity, in terms of demeanor. She is a harsh and unyielding woman, with little care for flowery language or veiled meaning. Her words are harsh and blunt, with no sympathy for those that are undeserving, and rage towards the plight of those that are. She regards humanity as a whole in a bitter and cynical light that borders upon misanthropic, but considers human beings as individuals worth the suffering of warfare. She fights to uphold her lord's tenants and protect the land from the gnashing of dead things that are meant to stay dead, even in the face of pain and mounting weariness in the face of the conflict.

Hild's ironclad faith in her lord is only surpassed by the burning, personal wrath with which she regards all that is dead yet moving, and those who would command them. Her hatred for them is intertwined tightly with a sadistic streak, and she finds pleasure in punishing foul practitioners and seeing their work undone, their aspirations stolen from them as they are reduced -often literally- by her hand in the name of her lord.

Beyond her wrath and faith, Hild also holds distant authorities in a quiet sort of contempt; those who shy away from the war are granted only begrudging obedience, while those that throw their lot in with the war effort are not regarded as harshly as most. She is not without respect, but it is not easily won, and it is her own desire to see the world set right (and/or purge the undying) that leads her on her path.

Hild holds an almost ascetic view of the world; she would forsake everything that belongs to her if it meant that the land was made a better place. She distances herself even -if not especially- from those that she respects and finds worthy of her care, keeping them at arms length even as some level of loneliness nags at her; she has faced loss numerous times over the course of the war, and fears facing it again. She will not admit such a thing, but it shapes her interactions deeply.

Skill

*Masterful: Divine Magic (Death/Decay; Nethelin)

*Skilled: Death/Undeath Lore, interrogation.

*Adept: Staff fighting, investigation.

*Novice: Horsemanship, navigation.

Traits

Inquisitor: Although Hild prefers to fight at the front of the war, scourging the undying with accelerated rot or sending them screaming into the void, her combination of skills and unique abilities has made her a nightmare for anyone attempting to hide necromantic tampering or association with undeath. This was put to use extensively; Hild has gained a reputation as a bloodhound for all things foul and unwanted, and she tracks them down with an admirable -and startling- ferocity. Hild is extremely good at detecting lies, falsehoods, and hidden intentions, but her social situation has suffered. She regards those around her with great scrutiny until they have earned something resembling trust, and those who know her name are more likely to be wary than trusting, even if her work is appreciated.

Lady of Death: Despite her relative youth compared to most who are known as masterful users of Nethelin's magic, Hild shows a prodigal talent well in line with her zeal for her lord and fascination with the dead and their keeping. She absorbs lore or magic related to her lord and his practices like a sponge, and has difficulty understanding that not all bear her natural aptitude; she is very hesitant to tolerate failure from others, and holds herself to the same standard. "As solid as the iron upon my arms, I will not fail."

The Sound: Whether this is a sign of favor from her lord or simply a very blatant and unusual display of her talent in the arts of Nethelin, the fact remains that Hild has a sense somewhat beyond the norm: Hild can sense things that have been strongly touched by the taint of undeath -most prominently, flesh necromancers and the undying. From her perspective, acts of necromancy and general sources of undead taint produce a sort of secondary sound below what is physical, like a 'ringing against the world' according to her own words. She is innately, vividly aware of where this sound is coming from so long as she is nearby, and is capable of physically tracking those who ping this sense with ease. This makes her an extremely strong combatant against the undying and necromancers, but too much of this 'noise' -such as being suddenly confronted with extremely powerful necromancy or a very strong undying being- can be very disruptive and distracting, and even stun her until she can adapt if it is intense enough, and leaves her with a very harsh headache. She has used this sense to great effect in her hunting of heathens. "I hear you."

Backstory

Despite her proud, almost regal and noble bearing, Hild's beginning is a humble and bitter one. She, like many, was a child steeped in the ashes of war, her livelihood withering under the attention of the undying hordes. Although Hild does not know of her specific place of birth, she knows herself to be of Melfician stock, and indeed it was a Melfician convent within a small town in which she was raised. Hild was left as an infant upon the doorstep of that lonely house of Nethelin's followers, an event which is often used to symbolize that those who left the child would soon perish -going into Nethelin's hands, and leaving a sightless child at the mercy of his people.

Hild spent many long years within that convent, and to the faith she was pledged almost as soon as she could understand the significance of her oath; to Hild, the people of Nethelin are her family, and the looming power of her god a distant father that has protected her from the end. For indeed, Hild saw much death in her time with the priests who tutored her. She had first laid eyes upon a corpse when she could still barely walk, when one of the nearby townsfolk died and their body was in need of proper care. Too young to understand the full implications of what laid in front of her, and surrounded by those who had thrown off many of the taboos surrounding the dead, Hild was not disgusted; rather, she was morbidly fascinated, that someone could be so cold and motionless, with no beating heart in their ribs, and no life beneath her hand.

Luckily for her, and unluckily for the vast majority of the area, the coming of war gave Hild many, many opportunities to examine the state of the dead and dying, of the rot and decay, and of the grueling destruction of war. Her aptitude for the teachings of Nethelin was discovered extremely early, and nurtured by her tutors and 'family' as the power she wielded to rot and destroy became clearer and clearer. She was gifted, they told her. She would scour impure things, and bring miracles to the world. It made her happy, to know that she was connected so firmly with her 'father'.

Though perhaps too connected, she would later muse: It was in this renewed war that Hild found herself separated from the only family she knew, aside from that of her dear Nethelin, and amidst the screaming and raging of fires, she could do naught but curl into herself as the world around her screamed and rung with a frightful straining against the roof of the world, a ringing that would follow her for all of her years. For the fingers of war are long and cruel, and snare even the innocent and faithful with sharp talons.

She was left alone and abandoned in the burning husk of a town, saved only by the noise from which she tried so desperately to hide.

It was in this event that young Hild found herself dragged into the battle against the Undying: Young and full of power, filled with unreasonable pride and an aching, burning fury and grief, she was able to use her unusual height and status as a wielder of Nethelin's power to push herself into the war earlier than most. Perhaps she hoped that lashing against the mindless things that slew the living would bring about some peace and renewed strength.

It did not; in the years to follow, Hild's faith lost its gentle hope, and her love was molded into a burning zeal, steeped in her longstanding wrath and cooled by her firm control and bitter heart. Hild saw no end to the fighting, to the death of things dear to her at the hands of uncaring corpses, to the defilement of her lord's way, to the cowardice of mortals and foulness of necromancers; it was mortal men who brought these things upon the land, and it was mortal men who carefully shaped her into an inquisitorial force of death for all who would disturb the dead.

Hild is a hardened soul, and she is alone now in the world. The only things she holds to her name are her simple possessions and her faith. She hopes to see an end by following after the strong Duchess and her ambitions in the war. Whether an end to the war for herself or the war remains to be seen, but she is not afraid of Nethelin's grasp. The Duchess, an inspiring figure to all who know her, had managed to stoke the dying hope of an end to the battle in her lifetime, and has gained some of her distant respect.

She will follow the Stormsparrow Lady into the land of the undying, and smite the dead in the name of Nethelin and a peaceful grave.

Weapons and Armor

See appearance description for clothing/armor. For weaponry, Hild keeps upon her few hidden daggers as sidearms, with her primary weapon being a rather interesting staff. Made of steel and tall enough for use as a walking stick, Hild's staff is decorated with runes and symbols honoring and idolizing Nethelin, with the various engravings covering it from end to end. Atop one end are words engraved in a circular fashion, raised ever so slightly so that Hild can feel them and remind herself of them: 'Our Fate Eternal'. The staff is hefty and durable due to its construction, and is capable of cracking open skulls with a properly aligned swing. It seems unusually effective against the undead, a product of its masterful dedication to Nethelin.

Misc Gear and Possessions

Hild travels relatively light, but keeps long-lasting rations within some of her pouches, as well as a water-skin at her hip, and various small tools. On her right hip is kept a book detailing various undying and necromantic spells, mostly for the sake of those around her; she cannot read it, and has memorized everything within it with the help of one of her teachers.

A small, silver locket hangs around her neck, bearing no names and no engravings. Instead, a pair of coins have been set into the locket as through they were pictures, a representation of a memory Hild holds dear.

THE UNDYING CRUSADE

Hider

Hild Zuversicht

Age: 27

Race: Human

Deity: Nethelin

Appearance

Although Hild does not know of her place of origin, she bears the features of one born from Melfician stock; her skin is tanned both naturally and by many long hours in the sun, and she stands at a striking 1.85 meters, with a long braid of vibrant red hair. Her figure is thin and almost willowy, but long warfare has hardened her with wiry muscle and the strength of an experienced fighter. Her features are sharp, and perfectly fit the grimace that often crosses her face.

The priest's clothing carries with it the thematic colors of her lord: Black underclothes and padding, a grey gambeson and pants, and a black mantle decorated rather heavily with the symbols of the lord of the dead. She is covered almost entirely, from the heavy mantle down to her short, black shoes -save for her bare hands, and has numerous pouches containing various necessities. Her sightless eyes are hidden away with a pitch black blindfold, and a plain iron circlet rests atop her head. Each of her ring fingers bears a silver band, and her arms -as well as her wrists and ankles- are decorated with the blackened iron bangles denoting her faith.

Personality

Most who meet Hild would describe her as the antithesis of her beloved deity, in terms of demeanor. She is a harsh and unyielding woman, with little care for flowery language or veiled meaning. Her words are harsh and blunt, with no sympathy for those that are undeserving, and rage towards the plight of those that are. She regards humanity as a whole in a bitter and cynical light that borders upon misanthropic, but considers human beings as individuals worth the suffering of warfare. She fights to uphold her lord's tenants and protect the land from the gnashing of dead things that are meant to stay dead, even in the face of pain and mounting weariness in the face of the conflict.

Hild's ironclad faith in her lord is only surpassed by the burning, personal wrath with which she regards all that is dead yet moving, and those who would command them. Her hatred for them is intertwined tightly with a sadistic streak, and she finds pleasure in punishing foul practitioners and seeing their work undone, their aspirations stolen from them as they are reduced -often literally- by her hand in the name of her lord.

Beyond her wrath and faith, Hild also holds distant authorities in a quiet sort of contempt; those who shy away from the war are granted only begrudging obedience, while those that throw their lot in with the war effort are not regarded as harshly as most. She is not without respect, but it is not easily won, and it is her own desire to see the world set right (and/or purge the undying) that leads her on her path.

Hild holds an almost ascetic view of the world; she would forsake everything that belongs to her if it meant that the land was made a better place. She distances herself even -if not especially- from those that she respects and finds worthy of her care, keeping them at arms length even as some level of loneliness nags at her; she has faced loss numerous times over the course of the war, and fears facing it again. She will not admit such a thing, but it shapes her interactions deeply.

Skill

*Masterful: Divine Magic (Death/Decay; Nethelin)

*Skilled: Death/Undeath Lore, interrogation.

*Adept: Staff fighting, investigation.

*Novice: Horsemanship, navigation.

Traits

Inquisitor: Although Hild prefers to fight at the front of the war, scourging the undying with accelerated rot or sending them screaming into the void, her combination of skills and unique abilities has made her a nightmare for anyone attempting to hide necromantic tampering or association with undeath. This was put to use extensively; Hild has gained a reputation as a bloodhound for all things foul and unwanted, and she tracks them down with an admirable -and startling- ferocity. Hild is extremely good at detecting lies, falsehoods, and hidden intentions, but her social situation has suffered. She regards those around her with great scrutiny until they have earned something resembling trust, and those who know her name are more likely to be wary than trusting, even if her work is appreciated.

Lady of Death: Despite her relative youth compared to most who are known as masterful users of Nethelin's magic, Hild shows a prodigal talent well in line with her zeal for her lord and fascination with the dead and their keeping. She absorbs lore or magic related to her lord and his practices like a sponge, and has difficulty understanding that not all bear her natural aptitude; she is very hesitant to tolerate failure from others, and holds herself to the same standard. "As solid as the iron upon my arms, I will not fail."

The Sound: Whether this is a sign of favor from her lord or simply a very blatant and unusual display of her talent in the arts of Nethelin, the fact remains that Hild has a sense somewhat beyond the norm: Hild can sense things that have been strongly touched by the taint of undeath -most prominently, flesh necromancers and the undying. From her perspective, acts of necromancy and general sources of undead taint produce a sort of secondary sound below what is physical, like a 'ringing against the world' according to her own words. She is innately, vividly aware of where this sound is coming from so long as she is nearby, and is capable of physically tracking those who ping this sense with ease. This makes her an extremely strong combatant against the undying and necromancers, but too much of this 'noise' -such as being suddenly confronted with extremely powerful necromancy or a very strong undying being- can be very disruptive and distracting, and even stun her until she can adapt if it is intense enough, and leaves her with a very harsh headache. She has used this sense to great effect in her hunting of heathens. "I hear you."

Backstory

Despite her proud, almost regal and noble bearing, Hild's beginning is a humble and bitter one. She, like many, was a child steeped in the ashes of war, her livelihood withering under the attention of the undying hordes. Although Hild does not know of her specific place of birth, she knows herself to be of Melfician stock, and indeed it was a Melfician convent within a small town in which she was raised. Hild was left as an infant upon the doorstep of that lonely house of Nethelin's followers, an event which is often used to symbolize that those who left the child would soon perish -going into Nethelin's hands, and leaving a sightless child at the mercy of his people.

Hild spent many long years within that convent, and to the faith she was pledged almost as soon as she could understand the significance of her oath; to Hild, the people of Nethelin are her family, and the looming power of her god a distant father that has protected her from the end. For indeed, Hild saw much death in her time with the priests who tutored her. She had first laid eyes upon a corpse when she could still barely walk, when one of the nearby townsfolk died and their body was in need of proper care. Too young to understand the full implications of what laid in front of her, and surrounded by those who had thrown off many of the taboos surrounding the dead, Hild was not disgusted; rather, she was morbidly fascinated, that someone could be so cold and motionless, with no beating heart in their ribs, and no life beneath her hand.

Luckily for her, and unluckily for the vast majority of the area, the coming of war gave Hild many, many opportunities to examine the state of the dead and dying, of the rot and decay, and of the grueling destruction of war. Her aptitude for the teachings of Nethelin was discovered extremely early, and nurtured by her tutors and 'family' as the power she wielded to rot and destroy became clearer and clearer. She was gifted, they told her. She would scour impure things, and bring miracles to the world. It made her happy, to know that she was connected so firmly with her 'father'.

Though perhaps too connected, she would later muse: It was in this renewed war that Hild found herself separated from the only family she knew, aside from that of her dear Nethelin, and amidst the screaming and raging of fires, she could do naught but curl into herself as the world around her screamed and rung with a frightful straining against the roof of the world, a ringing that would follow her for all of her years. For the fingers of war are long and cruel, and snare even the innocent and faithful with sharp talons.

She was left alone and abandoned in the burning husk of a town, saved only by the noise from which she tried so desperately to hide.

It was in this event that young Hild found herself dragged into the battle against the Undying: Young and full of power, filled with unreasonable pride and an aching, burning fury and grief, she was able to use her unusual height and status as a wielder of Nethelin's power to push herself into the war earlier than most. Perhaps she hoped that lashing against the mindless things that slew the living would bring about some peace and renewed strength.

It did not; in the years to follow, Hild's faith lost its gentle hope, and her love was molded into a burning zeal, steeped in her longstanding wrath and cooled by her firm control and bitter heart. Hild saw no end to the fighting, to the death of things dear to her at the hands of uncaring corpses, to the defilement of her lord's way, to the cowardice of mortals and foulness of necromancers; it was mortal men who brought these things upon the land, and it was mortal men who carefully shaped her into an inquisitorial force of death for all who would disturb the dead.

Hild is a hardened soul, and she is alone now in the world. The only things she holds to her name are her simple possessions and her faith. She hopes to see an end by following after the strong Duchess and her ambitions in the war. Whether an end to the war for herself or the war remains to be seen, but she is not afraid of Nethelin's grasp. The Duchess, an inspiring figure to all who know her, had managed to stoke the dying hope of an end to the battle in her lifetime, and has gained some of her distant respect.

She will follow the Stormsparrow Lady into the land of the undying, and smite the dead in the name of Nethelin and a peaceful grave.

Weapons and Armor

See appearance description for clothing/armor. For weaponry, Hild keeps upon her few hidden daggers as sidearms, with her primary weapon being a rather interesting staff. Made of steel and tall enough for use as a walking stick, Hild's staff is decorated with runes and symbols honoring and idolizing Nethelin, with the various engravings covering it from end to end. Atop one end are words engraved in a circular fashion, raised ever so slightly so that Hild can feel them and remind herself of them: 'Our Fate Eternal'. The staff is hefty and durable due to its construction, and is capable of cracking open skulls with a properly aligned swing. It seems unusually effective against the undead, a product of its masterful dedication to Nethelin.

Misc Gear and Possessions

Hild travels relatively light, but keeps long-lasting rations within some of her pouches, as well as a water-skin at her hip, and various small tools. On her right hip is kept a book detailing various undying and necromantic spells, mostly for the sake of those around her; she cannot read it, and has memorized everything within it with the help of one of her teachers.

A small, silver locket hangs around her neck, bearing no names and no engravings. Instead, a pair of coins have been set into the locket as through they were pictures, a representation of a memory Hild holds dear.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{banner credit to Hellis}

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Time: Present Day - Afternoon
Location: Central Park, New York City

Under the safety of her illusion charm The Ambassador worked her magic calling upon the Arcane Stream to open for her. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay by Mandate until she was done here in New York. Which wouldn't be for much longer, a few more days at best before her company finished their trip.

Blue light outlined her hands lifted up to the sky, French falling from her lips like the most familiar song she knew. Within minutes the rift opened in a jagged strip of light stretching several feet above her. Seconds later a large wooden door formed from within the light. A golden doorknob was the final touch, light spilling from its edges. Her hands returned to her sides and blue eyes fluttered open.

"Mandate, are you ready to see Paris? We'll be travelling through this portal." She said holding out her hand expectantly for Bach to pass over her purse. Bach did so quickly and her cellphone dinged with a new text message tone.

She tapped the password unlocking her phone to a read her text from Lekh, responding so quickly.

Of course, are you planning to visit Lost Haven soon?
If it is of interest, I have some news about a mutual acquaintance of ours that left without saying goodbye a few months back.

The smile she had was unmistakably pleased.

Mandate, on the other hand, was unmistakably entranced. She had straightened to her full towering height, and then froze as the kind Ambassador began to weave what the golem presumed was some form of magic.

It was, like the Ambassador, very pretty. The golem's singular eye roamed to and fro across the whole of the display, from the blue light upon the lady's hands to the rift that had opened within only minutes. It was light without a source, and rips in the air without explanation.

Amazing.

The door that had begun to assemble itself from that display was just... Mandate would have furrowed her brow if she had one. It was... Ah! "Icing on top of a cake." the golem hummed- mostly to herself. Her understanding expanded, as inexorably as ever! Mandate stood there, pleased with herself and eager to explore, as her lone eye roamed over the door once more.

Certainly, the Ambassador wouldn't mind if...? Tilting her head, Mandate tapped her fingers together once, twice, thrice, before she reached forward, eager to brush against the polished wood and examine the texture and--

Words. The Ambassador was saying something, something important, probably. Jerking her hand back from the surface of the door and to her side, the golem's eye snapped back to the relatively short human. The blue glow had stopped, and the door had stopped assembling, so that meant she was probably done. She had said... The memory swirled to the surface easily; she had spoken of going to Paris. The city. Oh yes.

Mandate's eagerness showed in the chirp in her voice. "Yes! I am eager to see. Can I touch your door? It is a very interesting door." She hoped that her V of a smile was convincing.

Odette looked up from her phone then reluctantly putting it away back into her purse. Her expression returning to something more neutral. "Of course. As exciting as it is to touch this door, what lies beyond it is much more interesting."

Her hand gripped the doorknob, twisting it delicately. The door opened slowly but within a crack the magic flooded the area. The grass grew a little greener, the air smelled sweeter like the city smog was a distant memory, while Odette felt energized. She took a deep breath in, "The Arcane Stream. The Earth's beating heart of magic. This portal will bring us instantly to Paris. I will need you to hold my hand as I lead you through the door."

Bach stepped through the portal first disappearing behind the wall of light. He popped his head back through and said, "See you on the otherside."

Holding out her hand to Mandate, Odette showed a well practiced smile. The sincerity far from her eyes. She found the intelligent golem incredibly charming in her innocence but she was much more eager to find out why anyone went to the great trouble of building a multi-soul intelligent golem. Her first assumption was Mandate was meant to be a weapon. What was she built for? How could she be used to benefit The Ambassador and her alone? Earning her trust will be relatively simple, however keeping her in Paris would be another matter entirely.

Mandate would need a guide and someone to watch over her while Odette was away. Without needing more than a few seconds to think she already had the perfect goblin for the job.

Mandate, for her part, had placed a hand against the lovely wood of the door almost as soon as she had been given permission to do so. It wasn't that much different from the wood she had already felt in her short existence, but it was special all the same; it was magical wood, after all.

Pleased with her investigation, the golem stepped back and allowed the Ambassador to open the door, and found herself entranced all over again. It was... Beautiful. An ethereal light that seems to invigorate the world around it, like a breath of fresh air from the lungs of the world.

Perhaps that was exactly what it was, if the Ambassador's words were any indication. Even the world has a heart? Perplexed and fascinated, the golem placed a clawed hand against her chest, curling her taloned toes in the grass beneath her feet. Is everything alive?

Am I alive?

Her thoughts were interrupted when her gaze returned to the Ambassador. She was holding out her hand, and the young entity did not hesitate to reciprocate. Her 'mane' seemed to flex once more as her massive hand enveloped the Ambassador's ever so carefully. I don't want to break your hand, she did not say. Instead, she nodded.

"I am ready."

Substantially quite large by comparison to Odette as they stood side by side. Gently, she tugged for Mandate to follow. She went first through the light of the portal, crossing the threshold. Always feeling the little bit of a jump in the pit of her stomach. The portal opened directly to her permanent portal in Paris. There was no need to travel along the leylines, not today.

Odette blinked the light of the portal brightening the clearing surrounded by various ages of yew trees. Her eyes scanned up to the gnarling branches of the largest tree within the copse, the yew the portal was built into. Yews were Bach's patron tree, symbolically recongized through out history as a tree of immortality and death. It's ability to live for thousands of years while it's leaves were poisionous to humans. It casted a dual purpose especially to Bach and Odette, the tree anchored their permanent portal but their pact as well. Only they were aware of it's dualality.

She often pondered the tree when she needed time to herself. The copse clearing being a great place to think and be with one's thoughts alone.

The Fey Sentry stood at attention for The Ambassador's arrival. The Sentry's armour was polished to a perfect shine of copper while their glaive glittered, intricately designed blade of silver. Earth Elves volunteered and trained specifically to defending the portal from intruders from both sides. While the Sentry rarely seen any real offences against the portal, there was one on duty always. Not a soul passed through the portal without The Ambassador's explicit permission.

"My Lady Ambassador. Welcome home." He said.

The Ambassador bowed her head in acknowledgment to the Sentry and said in Common Fey, "Thank you, Sentry. The visit will be a short one."

He nodded, "We always look forward to seeing you, My Lady."

"Have a wonderful evening." She said simply waving him off she beckoned to Mandate switching seamlessly back to English. "We are a short ways from the city but once we are free from the forest you will have a breathtaking view."

"If I had breath, it would already be taken." Mandate replied, her voice breathy and distracted. Awed, in a sense. In truth, she had scarcely paid attention since they had stepped through the portal, her hand remaining latched onto the Ambassador's for longer than particularly necessary as her singular eye hungrily tracked the environment.

It was, to her inexperienced perspective, as beautiful- if not moreso- than the park they had just left. New trees, unfamiliar to her and wide in their arrangement of branches, like a roof upon a singular, gnarled pillar. She had detached herself from the Ambassador a few moments after her gaze had finally ceased to move, her fingers delicately brushing from the door to the tree. The name came to her. Yew.

I see yew. Amusing.

The Sentry was almost as eye-catching as the tree, albeit ultimately less distracting for the strange golem; he was given a small wave of her hand, and her eyes scanned his equipment with a palpable curiosity.

The Ambassador probably would not like it if she were to attempt to peel it open, she decided, returning her focus to the aforementioned pretty human. "But," she continued, hesitant to leave the clearing but eager to explore all the same, "I haven't seen Paris. I think it will steal even more breath. Does it have many towers?"

For some reason, it felt right to assume that Paris would have towers.

She giggled, "I'm happy to hear you are enthusiastic to see it. Paris has a singular tower known as the Eiffel Tower." Odette responded leading the way through the small forest, treading the well worn path. Bach was at her side his hand brushing past the trees, looking rather content.

"I also want to introduce you to a special friend of mine. She will be your guide through Paris." Odette commented over her shoulder to Mandate as they walked through the forest. Bach tilted his head at her unsure of who she had in mind.

After a few minutes of the leisurely pace they opened up away from the forest, a few miles away from the city limits but clearly able to see the vast horizon Paris enveloped, the Eiffle Tower being chief among it's most famous landmarks. Even for a Parisian such as herself, she always felt a tinge breathless when she saw the city. Her city. It's streets, the people, and the magic belonged to her.

Unknown to the people of Paris, save for all who knew The Ambassador.

She allowed Mandate the time to appreciate the view while digging through her purse for her grimoire.

Mandate, for her part, was as pleased as she had ever been, standing by the Ambassador's side and gazing out over the cityscape. The confirmation that there was indeed a tower within Paris- even called a tower in its name!- had excited her for reasons she couldn't quite understand. Like correctly slotting a peg into that amusing children's toy that had occupied her for awhile, it brought a sense of rightness.

And now, to see that place with her own eye was... Wonderful. Beautiful. A sweeping, low cityscape, save for the few higher buildings-and the tower!- whose windows glinted in the afternoon sun. A subdued... Mandate tilted her head down, searching for satisfying words. Prettiness? Yes, prettiness. Of course. Mandate raised her hands up to her chest, tapping her fingers together giddily. It was a strange gesture to her, but it felt right as a way to illustrate her excitement.

And she would be meeting new and exciting people! Perhaps more exciting than the Ambassador's strange and warbling friend? Unlikely, but wonderful! She clasped her hands together for a moment, then flung them back down to her sides, shifting on her feet in excitement. Her 'mouth' was inadequate to convey her excitement.

"Ambassador! I do not have breath, but it is being stolen!" she declared, her harmonious voice full of delight as she turned her gaze back to her wonderful new friend. "Your city is wonderful, and its Eiffel is also wonderful!"

The grimoire opened in the base of her palm, it's worn leather covers soft and the ledges carefully protected by silver pieces. The clasp was made of silver, bearing the symbol of the yew tree. The wind gently tugged at the aging pages. The massive tome was the accumulation of The Ambassador's favoured spells. Spells she crafted herself from scratch to ancient faerie magic, changed and suited to her needs when the situation called for it. The strength in her fey spellcraft was in the ability to deconstruct it and change it. Combining magic from the Arcane Stream and her indepth understanding of faerie magic, a feat reserved for humans.

"First and foremost, we need to glamour you, Mandate. Unfortunately Parisians are not that much better in regards to being comfortable seeing a golem. However it should be no problem to craft something simple." Odette said pausing on a page for magical glamours, one she would usually use for herself when in flight now she simply needed one to fool the ordinary human into seeing Mandate as a human.

Beginning the spell with a string of French, Words of Power drew in close to Mandate wrapping about her... then deflecting in wayward directions forcing the ballerina to duck.

Bach and Odette shared a look of confusion, "Uh-" He began then ran a quick eye over the page Odette was on. "You aimed it at her... right?"

That earned him a elbow jab to his ribs.

"How incredibly helpful of you." She said tight lipped.

Bach rubbed at his ribs, "Just enchant something instead. We can figure out why she literally deflected your spell." He replied then ran an eye up and down Mandate.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

She rummaged through her purse with one hand, balancing the book open still. "Now where is that... pendant... the one that Mara gave me..." Her arm disappeared deep into the purse nearly up to her shoulder. Her fingers brushed against what she was looking for and triumphantly pulled it free. A simple polished piece of rose quartz, hand woven into a necklace.

Closing the necklace into the palm of her hand. Odette began the spell again, altering it slightly to enchant the jewellery instead. Her hand glowed a bright blue when the spell was complete did she open her palm, the rose quartz glittering with enchantment.

"Here Mandate, my dear please wear this around your neck. It will protect you." She offered the necklace up to the golem.

Mandate's gaze remained locked upon the necklace, hesitant to touch the pretty rose quartz. Normally, she would have gladly grasped the jewelry and examined it, but her emotions were somewhat tumultuous.

The strange magic that the Ambassador wielded was unfamiliar, but that tingling sensation as it was forcefully evicted...

Dark corridors, dark words, dark power.

Mandate's 'mane' bristled once more, then settled into its orderly configuration. Her 'mouth' was a flat line, neither its smile nor its frown as she internally debated with herself for a few moments. It felt longer to her, with her multitude of conflicting emotions. The Ambassador wouldn't do that. She is nice, and sweet. She has helped me. This place is nice, and I am... Safe. Reassurance, or a conversation? It was impossible to discern.

Odette's eyes flicked up to Mandate's mane flaring momentarily, she had curiously reacted in similar way earlier before they crossed the portal. Resisting magic in more ways than just one. Mandate had made a note about not liking the massive spell that ripped souls free from the leyline... did Mandate lose any?

But that dark place was as far behind her as New York- No, further, New York was a portal away. The distance of a world and a step. The place she'd left behind was far beyond even that, and she wouldn't go back. The Ambassador wasn't going to hurt. She was... Helpful. Over and over, Mandate's thoughts repeated themselves, a comforting mantra as she reached towards the smaller woman.

Ever so delicately, Mandate lowered her hand, plucking the necklace up with two hands. When the familiar feeling did not pass through her, the worry ebbed away as easily as the tide, dropping out of her stream of thought as her self-encouragement was proven correct. The prominent V of her smile bloomed once more.

A gift! Mandate brought it to her chest, cupped within her large hands as if it were a butterfly. "Thank you, Ambassador!" she blurted, her tone sincere and as jubilant as it had been only moments before. "Is this a gift? It looks like one; it is very pretty. I enjoy wearing pretty things." Her claws brushed across the surface of the Rose Quartz, admiring the pleasing smoothness of the crystal.

Without another thought as to the reputability of the Ambassador -she could be trusted, after all- and a renewed eagerness, the golem began to fuss with the necklace, testing its size; it would fit, thankfully.

As she slipped it on, she spoke to her treasured and only companion. "Ambassador, can I call you miss? I think it is polite, and I would like to be polite to you! Miss Ambassador, what was that strange thing earlier? How will this jewelry protect me?"

"You may refer to me as Miss Ambassador. Manners matter, Mandate. I appreciate your polite decorum." Odette said rather sweetly. "What I did to enchant the necklace earlier, I tried to do to you first. My spell was meant to give humans unlike myself, the illusion you looked human as well. The necklace however, so long as you wear it, you will appear human to everyone around you. Very convenient for a golem such as yourself."

Mandate preened as much as she could under the Ambassador's approval, tilting her head to the side and humming her agreement with the small woman's statement. Manners mattered. "Unlike yourself, Miss Ambassador? Should I not show anyone that is not you that I am a not-human?" she asked, mentally making a note of that condition.

Odette nodded reassuring the golem, "Until I explictly say to remove the pendant you are to wear it. Can you promise me you will wear it all the time?"

What did she do that humans would find not-human? Some humans could lift cars now, but not all of them did. She could lift more than cars, but would that be more or less suspicious? Questions in need of answering. The golem decided to avoid lifting anything for awhile; she was certain that it was generally a suspicious way to behave.

Mandate fidgeted slightly with her new necklace. Perhaps some tearing, if no one was looking.

Mandate nodded, her smile showing nothing of her thoughts as she voiced her assent. "Of course, Miss Ambassador! I'll keep it very safe." It was a present from the Ambassador, after all. It was precious.

------

Time: An hour or so of travelling later...
Location: Along the Seine, Paris.

The Seine was calm and quiet to humans. Unseen the river was rife with young selkie pups. The setting summer sun casted an eerie orange glow over a lone goblin. Mara the lanky, considerably ugly fey sat along the edge of the concrete. Her net deep in the water waiting patiently for a pup to come close. Her eyes squinted through the glass soda bottles she wore for glasses.

Completely unaware of the two figures approaching her.

She waited for one to slip close, then with expert reflexes she snatched up the hissing selkie, skinny arms jerking about trying to contain it. She lifted with her knees, very important to avoid backpain, then plopped the pup into her large glass fishbowl, possibly bigger than the small goblin herself.

With a splash and a hiss the selkie was emptied into the bowl.

"You don't know it yet kid, but I'm doing you a favour. The Seine ain't no place for you lot to be frolicking about." Mara said flatly over the rim of the bowl then received a swift angry splash in reply.

"Good evening, Mara." Odette said approaching the goblin speaking in English largely for Mandate's benefit. "Any luck tonight?"

The goblin looked over her shoulder at The Ambassador. "Sure sure, ungrateful little pups think I'm being the stick in the mud fishing them outta the Seine." She gestured at the bowl and hissing pup, "C'mon, these kids are left to their own devices and it's up to folk like me to make sure they get back somewheres safe."

"They will appreciate you, given enough time. Mara, I was hoping to speak to you. I want to hire you for a special job. First however I would like to introduce you to Mandate." Odette said gesturing to the glamoured golem.

"Sure, My Lady. Y'know I don't mind doing business with you. What d'ya need?" Mara said evenly digging out a dirty rag from inside her shirt, drying her face. Mara tucked her rag away then nodded at Mandate, "Nice to meetcha Mandate, the name is Mara."

Mara ran an eye over the substantially tall and rather stocky human. Her arms were toned with visible muscle through the plain white tshirt she wore. Mandate's dark brown hair was tied into a pony tail, her eyes a dark brown. Around her neck Mara spotted the rose quartz pendant and recognized it immediately.

"Hey! That's the pendant I gave you, My Lady. Looks like... it's enchanted?" Mara said curiously squinting up at Mandate's human glamour still considerably tall figure especially compared to the small goblin.

Mandate would have blinked if she was capable of it, her singular eye flicking its focus from the curious bowl to the goblin that it seemed to belong to after a moment's silence. Both her eye and her smile were unable to convey the sheer excitement passing through her, but it was probably more firmly demonstrated in the way that she rocked upon her feet and seemed to almost bounce in place. She pushed up to the tips of her toes as her hands clasped together in front of her chest, then lowered herself back down as her hands returned to her sides.

Fidgeting, moving in brief bursts. The broad, strong figure the glamor had given her translated the movements somewhat awkwardly, but conveyed the enthusiastic energy behind them fairly well, at any rate.

Mara's expression seemed to shift when she observed Mandate nearly bouncing on the spot. Shifting between confusion and curiosity. Something was off about this particular human. Not that most humans that towed in behind The Ambassador were normal but this one...

It was sheer force of will -and a slight fear of the Ambassador's disapproval- that kept her from touching anything and everything she saw in the new landscape that surrounded her; she found that it was helpful to place her hands together when the urge became unbearable, such as when she was exposed to yet another strange companion of the Ambassador.

At least they were starting to become clearer, given time. The odd not-thing that Mandate had first met alongside the Ambassador was starting to gain a more coherent figure, and she could even understand this new one, strange and tiny though -she? They sounded like a she- was.

The golem tilted her head and gave a soft hum, which had an unnerving effect upon her glamor; her smile was bright and warm, but her eyes were as dead as the lives that went into Mandate's creation.

The Ambassador probably wouldn't appreciate it if she snatched up the fish bowl and started looking at it and the thing inside of it all over like she dearly wished. Her hands squeezed together tighter.

Definitely no grabbing. Oh, she was supposed to be speaking, yes!

The mention of the pendant was what grabbed the golem's attention the most, for one reason or another. Her hands pressed against her chest, clasping the crystal in question and bringing it up to her face. Her mouth flattened into a line to indicate her focused curiosity, at odds with the light and pleasant tone of her strange voice. "Oh, this? This was Miss Ambassador's gift to me! It is magical, and very pretty. Was it a gift from you first? Miss Ambassador, do you get a lot of gifts?"

Mandate paused for a second, then perked up as if remembering something. Her smile returned, both on her glamor and on her true form. "Also, hello Mara. It's nice to meet you; you're different and your glasses are nice. Do you steal children from the river often?" Her curious tone was as wholly genuine as her smile.

Mara's long gnarled nose twitched, she stared at Mandate considering her questions, "It was a form of payment. Naw, I ain't stealing no children. Just moving some selki pups around, leaving the kidnapping business to the creepier folk." Mara paused wincing, "Beg your pardon, My Lady. Not a slight at you."

As she winced the goblin looked up at Mandate squinting a little harder than necessary.

"But ma'am, that ain't no human. Who is she?" Mara said pointing a bony finger at the golem.

Odette's smile came so easily, "She... is Mandate. My dear would you please remove the pendant, momentarily?"

Mara watched with beady eyes.

"Of course, Miss Ambassador!" Mandate replied, as cheerful as ever as she considered her strange new companion's words. As her clawed fingers delicately lifted the necklace off of her neck, she turned her cyclopean gaze towards the Ambassador once more.

"Does that mean you steal children from rivers, Miss Ambassador?" she chirped inquisitively, her head tilting to the side as she held the necklace in one massive hand. She didn't want to lose the payment-turned-gift, after all; it was precious to her, because it was the Ambassador's.

Mara took off her glasses, her eyes huge on her ugly bald head. "A golem...? I'm holdin' a conversation with it, how's that possible?" She shook her head then rubbed some dirt off the glasses. "More importantly, what does that got to do with me?"

Odette shrugged her smile not wavering, "Depends on you. I found Mandate in Central Park, couldn't very well leave someone as unique as her on her own. Now could I?"

Mara shrugged ignoring that The Ambassador didn't answer her question. "Depends on what then, My Lady?"

"As you know, I am in no position to keep Mandate by my side all the time. However she is safer here in Paris with a very reliable and neutral figure such as yourself. There are no borders here in Paris for you, Mara." Odette said smoothly turning to observe the selkies in the Seine. "You will be aptly paid to keep Mandate company and most importantly... out of trouble. Can I trust you to see to it?"

Odette looked to the golem, gazing into her singular red eye. "I do apologize Mandate, unfortunately I must return to New York for a short time. I will be back in Paris, but you will not be alone."

Mara grunted. "Hrm. Keep a smart golem company? Piece of cake, My Lady. I could always use an extra pair of hands. Eh, Mandate? Ya don't mind hanging around this old goblin?"

Mandate froze in the midst of her excited examination of the surrounding area, her gaze focusing upon the small human once more. After a few moments, it flicked to the even smaller fey being, then back to the Ambassador. Her hands curled back around the necklace as the situation processed.

Left? she wondered to herself -literally, as she felt the question echo through her component parts. I am being left here? Uncertainty tickled at Mandate's consciousness, before she clamped down upon it and the returned bristling of her 'mane'. The Ambassador, of course, was not going to be gone forever.

I've only just met you, friend. she did not protest, because some greater part of herself pushed down against it once more. Selfish thoughts circled, a natural inclination to do as she pleased that worked counter to her desire to please her new yet dear companion. Her only companion?

Why does it bother me? I am always alone and together. More things to consider, in time. Mandate filed the strange sensation away. She was not alone at the present; it was pleasing. She would... Not be alone when the Ambassador left, would she? She had the small human's assurance, but...

Mara did not present the same caliber of company, but maybe that was a wrong impression. A biased impression, admittedly; Mandate already considered the Ambassador her favorite person.

Slowly, Mandate raised the crystal necklace back up, and replaced it around her neck, using the motion to disguise the slump of her shoulders as she turned her dead eyes and soft smile back onto Mara. The interesting sensation of stubborn refusal faded away -or was pushed back- as she responded.

"I think that will be okay, Miss Ambassador." And she believed it.

Odette brought her hands up, her eyes twinkling happily, "Somehow I knew you would understand, my dear Mandate. Truthfully I am so happy to hear you will be spending time with Mara. I would trust no one else with you. Time will fly while I am gone and it would hardly seem as if I was absent."

Mara quietly huffed not comfortable watching The Ambassador manipulate the golem. She was smart enough not to open her mouth to get between The Ambassador and her work. Briefly she caught her blue eye, the woman hardly missed a thing. Mara shifted her gaze to Mandate. This golem seemed very new. Mara decided she'd at least knock some common sense into the inquisitive golem.

Odette held out a hand to the golem, "You and I have much to discuss when I return. For now, Mara will be your guide through Paris. Let the city fill your time and thoughts. As I said before, you will not be disappointed."

Despite the situation, Mandate's smile became firmer as she straightened up beneath the Ambassador's attention, turning to face her fully once more. The happiness and approval was gratifying, a new and welcome sensation; approval was not something she'd experienced since her creators had seen that she'd formed properly.

She'd killed them afterwards, so it wasn't a very good comparison.

Go away. Banishing the thoughts firmly, Mandate reached out. Her large hand clasped the smaller one of the human, mindful of the claw tips of her fingers, before her other hand closed over it as well. The thought satisfied her, of seeing Paris fully, and admiring things that were almost a world away only an hour ago. The Ambassador herself would be only a world away herself.

"Of course I won't be, Miss Ambassador; it's your city, and it is beautiful!" The smile of her glamor had regained its full brightness, overshadowing the dead look in her fake eyes as she reluctantly released the blue-haired woman's hand. Thank you."

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Time: The Next Day - Afternoon
Location: Central Park, New York City

“Good afternoon... Silvery-One. I hope I am not disturbing your rest.”

Mandate considered the human's greetings, her eye focused and her expression set into its unreadable 'line' state. It was rare for a human to immediately catch her interest, being the frail, fleshy, and often mundane things that they were. It was not that they couldn't be interesting, they often were, but most didn't show it so obviously.

But this one did, mostly in the way she walked with... Something. Mandate would squint if she could. It was there, she knew, but what was it? It tickled her perceptions, and that was something unfamiliar. Her vision was not infallible, and hardly worth mentioning, but it was also far from flawed. This was not her fault, she decided.

At last, her manners returned to her, as lost as they had been in her contemplative fugue. It was rude to stare and not answer! She nodded to herself as an appropriate response manifested in the back of her mind. "Hello, Blue-One! I am not disturbed. The grass is interesting, but you are too." she informed the human from her seated position, her tone light and pleased. Her 'mouth' went through its usual transformation, the neutral line smoothing out as her 'face' indented to form its pleasant V smile.

Bach and Odette shared a look for a moment, surprised. The response was more involved than a yes or no. Golems given the gift of speech were very limited, this one sounded as if it had multiple voices feminine and masculine mingling pleasantly. The singular red eye glassy but now that Odette had her attention she could see intelligence there. Self-awareness.

Bach crouched down beside the golem, studying her. The level of magic resonanting from her was immense, far above the typical one soul - one golem. Without a single rune or sigil mark on her body from what he could see raised more questions.

"Thank you, you are rather interesting yourself. What is your name?" Odette asked. Years spent in the Faerie Realms had bolstered her capacity for the strange. Approaching new or different things with diplomacy and caution were what had afforded her alliances with figures as the Archon of the Old Earth.

Her name? That was an interesting question. Tilting her head to and fro, Mandate hummed thoughtfully. She had already more or less decided on her name, but was it more or less polite to give the full, clunky thing she'd been... Born with? Embedded with? She didn't like it, but it was, by some definition, her name. But it wasn't what she chose for herself, and as far as she understood, choosing a name was something that could be done.

Finally, the curious golem turned her head towards the strange distortion, doing her utmost to focus upon it. The manner in which it moved around her was strange, and maybe a little confusing, but it was interesting too. It was... Magic? Or maybe a friend to the Blue-One. She considered it as well, for a moment, before she remembered the question. The Blue-One!

She'd simply give what she had chosen, she decided. "I am Mandate, Blue-One! Your friend is interesting." Was it a friend? She wasn't certain. She had walked with the confusing... Walking sensation upon her eye, so she was certain it was a reasonable assumption, even if she didn't understand how such a confusing friend could be managed. Questions to ask, things to learn. The back of her mind itched with small, learned-yet-not advice. Proper introductions. "What are your names? Or do you share a name? It's very strange."

Bach scratched at his head, green leaves gently falling to his feet. "I suppose Mandate can perceive me?"

Odette shrugged in response to Bach. She slowly bent down to her knees flattening her dress as she did, now looking up at Mandate gently smiling as the mercury golem rattled off her questions. "We do not share a name. My name is The Ambassador, my friend's name is Bach. It is lovely to meet you, Mandate."

Offering her hand to shake, "You are unlike anything we have ever seen before."

Mandate tilted her head as the distorted presence made noise. It was distant and strange, and thus captured the golem's attention for a few moments as she tilted her head back in its direction, but just as quickly her senses were pulled in another direction. It was exciting, how many odd and new things were present now.

For instance, the human. The Ambassador. She wanted to mull over that name, the manner in which it mirrored a designation, a role. Like her own, almost. But there were more immediate things to consider, such as the whole of the human herself. Mandate's crimson eye focused upon the features of the smaller being. Her blue hair was a strange contrast to the mundane, not completely new to Mandate but also not entirely common, and she decided that her doll-like features were pleasing to observe, aesthetically. The word 'aesthetically' came unbidden from the back of her mind, but she kept it. It was nice.

Mandate decided that the interesting human was pretty. She hummed once more, her larger hand extending to carefully clasp the Ambassador's own, followed by the other. She shook with both hands as she responded. "Hello, Ambassador, it is lovely to meet you as well! You are a representative? Who are you representing? To who? Are you here to speak about the strange feeling? Does your friend speak? Was that noise speech? You are very pretty! Why is your hair different? It is nice. You are not like anything I have seen before, but that is because you are all unique, I think. Can Bach shake hands? Does Bach possess hands?"

So much to learn. The questions shot forth from her subconscious rapidly and eagerly.

Bach pulled a notepad from inside his jacket scribbling away his thoughts and notes while Odette kept Mandate's attention.

Odette hid a small giggle behind her hand after shaking Mandate's cold hand. Inquistitive and intelligence unseen in golems. Odette decided then she would need to take responsibilty for the golem, she couldn't simply be left alone to wander Central Park.

For now, she would continue gauging the creature for more information but the mention of the strange feeling caught the ballerina's attention particularly. "Yes, I represent the Faerie Realms and those that occupy my city, Paris. My friend whom I assume was the noise you heard is him speaking. Given some time he will grow to become clear to you. Bach does have hands, he looks like a human but not quite." Odette said smiling all the while. There was a charming, innocent curiosity to Mandate.

She pulled her purse into her lap then removed her phone taking a quick picture. "For later. Now, do you have a home or anyone to return to? Are you lost? Do you know where you are?"

Bach gave her a thumbs up, rapidly scribbling his notes away.

In truth, Mandate had more questions bubbling away under the surface, but it seemed that the Ambassador had more questions in turn for her, and that was simply wonderful. The grass had been captivating, a lullaby of sorts to which she could reduce her thoughts to a minimum and simply observe, but interacting with this new face, these new figures, was stimulating to her mind.

And they came with revelations of their own, as well. Mandate 'hmmm'ed as she considered the answers, and the questions given in turn. Paris, Paris, Paris. The golem rolled the word around in her thoughts, as she did with most words. But it was a special one. It held a place in the minds of... Most of herself. She only knew this because it felt the same as such words as 'California' and 'Ohio', but different still. Not the same... Size? That larger feeling must have been the sensation of state. That felt correct.

And Bach, Bach was still strangely captivating yet difficult to look at, and impossible to truly... Well, observe. That he supposedly looked somewhat human was curious; that he possessed features that were also less human was interesting. But there was only so much that could be addressed at any particular point. Like individual blades of grass, Mandate had to focus to count the merits. Right now, the Ambassador was the target of her focus.

It was only polite, and she liked to examine the strange human. Even if her questions prodded ever so slightly at unkind memories. Driven by a strange instinct, Mandate's smile smoothed over for a moment, then returned. "I'm afraid I don't! Or, I'm not afraid, but I don't." She was glad she had no one to return to, when it came to her options. Strange men, strange women, pain. "I do not think I am lost. I am in a park?" She tilted her head, and reconsidered.

"I am lost, yes. But I'm okay. You are very nice."

Odette could see the thoughts churning in Mandate's smooth head, "I am sorry you were in pain, Mandate. Such cruelty to do unto a curiosity such as yourself. You are in Central Park, New York City. Not a typical place for a golem to be wandering around in. Other humans do not take kindly to... such unique things."

"I'm glad I found you here. You said you felt a strange feeling? As of last night?""

Mandate would have blinked if she was capable of such a thing, her focus entirely upon the Ambassador; she was very perceptive, surprisingly but pleasantly so. The living work of magic felt the decision to maintain her 'smile' becoming firmer, the instinct to become something less pleasant drifting away. Personally, she had yet to let what random humans cared about stop her, but what she perceived as concern was pleasing to hear.

Empathy and sympathy. More things to consider.

The mention of last night, however, finally earned a larger momentary lapse in Mandate's smile, as it inverted into her general representation of sadness, displeasure. It was a good symbol, simple but conveying much, like symbols were supposed to do. The pangs of that event were still settling downown, although the pain was long gone.

It was unsettling. But perhaps the Ambassador could assist her. Seemingly perking up, Mandate leaned forward as she replied. "Yes, very strange! Did you feel the tugging as well? It was not pleasant! I tried to dig for it, but I lost it." Her hand gestured to the dirt around her. She hadn't put much effort into the attempt, but it was still frustrating to fail. "I hope I find it again. Did you lose it too?"

"I felt it a little differently than you did, I felt it as a chill." Odette began recalling the night before. It was more than just a chill it felt invasive. She blinked taking less than a pause before carrying on, "You and I are of magical means, Mandate."

She plucked a blade of grass and folded her hands over it. "We are gifted by extraordinary powers that do not abide by the rules of this reality." She said looking into the red globe of Mandate's eye. She whispered a small spell urging for the grass to grow. Blue light softly peeking out from the creases in her fingers. The blade of grass slowly grew from inside her palms sprouting in various directions, until it became a soft bed of grass in the palm of her hands.

She offered it up for Mandate to touch a small frown giving her expression a touch of sadness. "I won't be here in the city for much longer... I would hate to say goodbye so soon to a new friend but my home is in Paris."

Mandate was silent as the strange and interesting lady spoke, enraptured and listening intently. Her single crimson eye was focused down upon her hands, the intimidating shape of her torso leaned forward in very obvious interest. Her v of a smile had solidified once more, and her wonder was obvious in the 'ohhh' of her hum.

Mandate had seen some magic, and knew that it existed; it was her very existence, after all, her lifeblood. She had seen desperate hand motions form barriers between her and her creators in her first moments of existence. She was certain she had felt something terrible brewing before she had crushed them, and yet... Desperation and pain were not good motivators to remember a moment, to view it in the full detail of its glory and enchanting nature.

Here, sitting upon the soft earth across from the Ambassador, was a far better moment to remember than those times. She reached forward slowly, mercury-colored and sharply-pointed fingers almost comically delicate in the way that they brushed across the bed of grass.

And, as ever, she could feel it. Despite her mercurial nature, the blades brushed softly across her surface, and fond... Memories- no, sensations- fluttered through her from her subconscious. She had felt this many times before, even as herself, but it still elicited that soft feeling.

The reminder that she was free.

It was the Ambassador's next words that drew her from her calm stupor. Her fingers flinched back from the grass as she loooked back to the kind lady's face. She would be... Leaving? So soon? Mandate wanted to speak something along those lines, but... It would be rude, wouldn't it? Her smile inverted as she considered this new reality. The smooth plates across her head momentarily flared up, giving the appearance of a lion's mane for the briefest of moments. Agitation, she recognized internally. And, upon contemplation, finality.

She did not like that sadness, and she did not want to be alone.

"I can come with you..." she offered tentatively, momentarily unsure, before her tone solidified. It was an expectant sort of hopefulness. "Can I? I would like to see Paris."

Odette's frown slowly, convincingly turned into a warm smile. She slid the patch of grass in her hands back into the ground, blue light helped the newly grown grass intergrate seamlessly. Bach stowed his notebook away wearing a smile of admiration for his pact partner. He walked around Mandate and helped Odette to stand. An intelligent golem in their possession would surely be a boon.

"I would be honoured to show you Paris." She said sweetly offering her hand out for Mandate to hold. "Come my friend we shall depart, the City of Lights awaits you."

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@DearTrickster I'll be around today, so hopefully we can get started sometime then! Excellent post.

And how are they ignoring Mandate, you say? Why, they're New Yorkers, they can cope with anything.

Joking, of course.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@Robeatics@ShyDot: *looks at the chat* You two can visit. WE don't bite...much. XD

@Fallenreaper

I probably won't be around there much, for personal reasons and just because I've got a lot to do, but it is appreciated.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Mandate: Just because your magical golem servant killed you doesn't mean it has any idea what it's doing.