Tesserach

Empire of the Clouds

Chamer

Name: Three Jaguar of the Resplendent Serpent, Keeper of Sun and Song and Seeker of the Four Winds aka Chamer
Gender: He/Him
Age: 27
Nationality: Iktani Confederacy
Appearance:
Chamer is invariably immaculately groomed and dressed, usually in bright colours that stand at odds with much of Inburian social norms. Standing roughly 5'8", weighing in around 145lbs with long, dark, usually braided and occasionally ribboned hair and dark brown eyes some might call expressive.

My Hider

Personal Effects: Trust Fund
Diplomatic ID + Immunity
Writing implements,
Iktani Ceremonial bundles, and garb
A travel trunk of fashionably tailored suits
1 manservant - Miquiztli
Writing Implements and several books of poetry and philosophy
Tumi - Ceremonial knife

Background:
What is your job: The Poet-Prince
Backstory:

Backstory

I am wondering where I may gather some pretty, sweet flowers.
Who shall I ask? Who even is it that asks?
Among the blooming chinampas mirrored among shimmering waters,
Thence springs an answer,
From the very mouth of the resplendant serpent,
Sprung the tale of five deers,
Who found and made their home amidst 13 stones of flint,
Where life giving rain fell in mossy pools,
And surrounded by the wildflowers that bloomed in the mountains,
Three jaguars did emerge.

(Translation: I am the some of Five Deer, Chief - or Prince, or Duke - of Xochitl, a province of the Iktani Confederacy. My mother's birth name is Thirteen Flint, who came from the House of Mossy Pools - where as I am of the House of the Resplendant Serpent. I have several brothers)

There I, the singer, entered the house of the resplendant serpent,
Labouring in my spirit to give voice to that what I hear,
In my dreams of the most shining heavens,
Gazing, so I imagine, so I wonder: the divine touch of All Creation,
A tremulous rush I feel in my heart,
Ringing with all the wondrous sights of a paradise,
Glorious, illustrious, blinding in my mind's eye,
Seized by an endless wandering, yearning to find my voice;
How many tears shall I shed on this earth?

(Translation: So my dad wanted me to join the military academy, but I really didn't. I feel like my family never quite understood me, and at prep school I fell in love with the idea of becoming like the wandering poets and philosophers of old. The short of it is, I was never really close with my family. Or maybe anyone.)

In my despair, I took solace by the watermargins,
Where I sang my sorrows to the wise crocodile,
Who advised I gather reeds, and seeking great things
Do great things, chasing rabbits through tire and water,
And so, as the moon follows the sun,
So does the tlamachtihquetl follows tlamatiliztli,
Through the ancient earth, through the islands of clouds,
Through great lands among strangers,
Until at last I find myself among the House of the Enemy,
Something approaches,
And Yaōmiquiztli walks naked in the light of day.

(Translation: Looking to escape my family I convinced them to allow me to seek a fashionable overseas education. After school, I decided to pursue my passions taking a year to travel - that was several years ago. Writing my poetry, I found some small acclaim among the far continents literati and artistic circles. I even travelled to Inburia despite tensions, but it was here the communists came very suddenly, and I found myself trapped in the capital during their advance)

Empire of the Clouds

Name: Three Jaguar of the Resplendent Serpent, Keeper of Sun and Song and Seeker of the Four Winds aka Chamer
Gender: He/Him
Age: 27
Nationality: Iktani Confederacy
Appearance:
Chamer is invariably immaculately groomed and dressed, usually in bright colours that stand at odds with much of Inburian social norms. Standing roughly 5'8", weighing in around 145lbs with long, dark, usually braided and occasionally ribboned hair and dark brown eyes some might call expressive.

My Hider

Personal Effects: Trust Fund
Diplomatic ID + Immunity
Writing implements,
Iktani Ceremonial bundles, and garb
A travel trunk of fashionably tailored suits
1 manservant - Miquiztli
Writing Implements and several books of poetry and philosophy
Tumi - Ceremonial knife

Background:
What is your job: The Poet-Prince
Backstory:

Backstory

I am wondering where I may gather some pretty, sweet flowers.
Who shall I ask? Who even is it that asks?
Among the blooming chinampas mirrored among shimmering waters,
Thence springs an answer,
From the very mouth of the resplendant serpent,
Sprung the tale of five deers,
Who found and made their home amidst 13 stones of flint,
Where life giving rain fell in mossy pools,
And surrounded by the wildflowers that bloomed in the mountains,
Three jaguars did emerge.

(Translation: I am the some of Five Deer, Chief - or Prince, or Duke - of Xochitl, a province of the Iktani Confederacy. My mother's birth name is Thirteen Flint, who came from the House of Mossy Pools - where as I am of the House of the Resplendant Serpent. I have several brothers)

There I, the singer, entered the house of the resplendant serpent,
Labouring in my spirit to give voice to that what I hear,
In my dreams of the most shining heavens,
Gazing, so I imagine, so I wonder: the divine touch of All Creation,
A tremulous rush I feel in my heart,
Ringing with all the wondrous sights of a paradise,
Glorious, illustrious, blinding in my mind's eye,
Seized by an endless wandering, yearning to find my voice;
How many tears shall I shed on this earth?

(Translation: So my dad wanted me to join the military academy, but I really didn't. I feel like my family never quite understood me, and at prep school I fell in love with the idea of becoming like the wandering poets and philosophers of old. The short of it is, I was never really close with my family. Or maybe anyone.)

In my despair, I took solace by the watermargins,
Where I sang my sorrows to the wise crocodile,
Who advised I gather reeds, and seeking great things
Do great things, chasing rabbits through tire and water,
And so, as the moon follows the sun,
So does the tlamachtihquetl follows tlamatiliztli,
Through the ancient earth, through the islands of clouds,
Through great lands among strangers,
Until at last I find myself among the House of the Enemy,
Something approaches,
And Yaōmiquiztli walks naked in the light of day.

(Translation: Looking to escape my family I convinced them to allow me to seek a fashionable overseas education. After school, I decided to pursue my passions taking a year to travel - that was several years ago. Writing my poetry, I found some small acclaim among the far continents literati and artistic circles. I even travelled to Inburia despite tensions, but it was here the communists came very suddenly, and I found myself trapped in the capital during their advance)

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

Rudy paced back and forth holding his chin in his hands, where a crop of stubble had grown in on his normally clean shaven face, the tiredness under his eyes more pronounced than usual. "Might be worth someone checking the local civil registry office, they might have records the police missed. The cemetery's groundskeeper could be a witness, or a suspect. Could canvas the neighborhood too." Rudy rubbed his temples. "I need sleep though."

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

A weary look on the man's face, Rudy seemed to nod at Nicola's suggestion even as he watched Helmut looming over the corpse. "Well. We've an idea what we're dealing with now at least. Nicola has a point though, and I don't mind the walk. It should only take a few minutes."

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Agent Ryan Jackson

_{Location: Rooks Rest
Mentions: Alejandra Escriva, @NoriWasHere, @FernStone, @Blizz}

"I dunno what the fuck MFF is, but do what he fuckin’ says. Leave. Do not fuckin’ try to talk to it. It ain't friendly." As Bryn spoke, burning ashes split out in front of her. It was a careful controlled heat that she would push to the limit the moment it stepped out - tiny, heated missiles.

"This is our fuckin’ business. Unless you wanna die and leave your bones for me t'work with, fuck off."

@FernStone

Jackson glanced over at the new arrival, who was talking a lot more like a Hollow street soldier than the others. Training aside, one adept was better equipped for this thing than he was. If three of them couldn't hold this thing in the street, Jackson definitely didn't want any part of whatever it was.

Adepts or not, he could already tell this wasn't exactly Gideon's best. They were going to kill this thing without bothering to find out what it was or why it was here. He doubted they even had anyone watching the back.

"Well, if it's your fucking business I suggest you wrap it up real quick." Jackson didn't go much into detail about why, he just pulled back from the doorway, slipping down a narrow side alley where he could keep tabs on what was occurring both front and rear - and began relaying updates to Central.

---

EMERGENCY ALERT - Rook's Rest

This is an emergency services notice of a hazardous chemical spill near Rook's Rest. Earlier today an overturned tanker vehicle resulted in a chemical spill. Emergency services are currently establishing a cordon around the area. People are advised to avoid Rook's Rest until the emergency bulletin is lifted. Those inside the cordon are advised to shelter in place and not to venture outside. Those outside should seek shelter immediately. Authorities advise chemical fumes in the area have potential to be Immediately Dangerous to Health or Life. The area will remain closed to the public through the morning, as chemical cleanup operations are expected to be ongoing until roughly 1pm EST.

THIS IS NOT A TEST. This is a notification of an ongoing emergency situation provided by the Cloverfield Emergency Services System, brought to you by MFF Industries: Cloverfield's favourite provider of telecommunications services!

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Agent Ryan Jackson

_{Location: Rooks Rest
Mentions: Alejandra Escriva, @NoriWasHere, @FernStone, @Blizz}

Jackson peaked out from behind the SUV again as a second figure, a man he realized, autodefenestrated himself and landed out in the street beside the woman who was slowly stirring. Two outside. One inside.

Jackson reached for his mic. "CENTRAL, this is unit two. I have visual confirmation, aural event is active, currently Code Gray. Be advised two neutral flashers in the area."

The voice over Jackson's comms responded with practiced indifference. "Confirm Code Gray on Aural Event. Maintain contact unit two. Proceed with contact protocols. Priority is live recovery. Over."

Fuck.

"Roger that." There was a hint of hesitation in Jackson's response. "Be advised, I currently have one civilian on board. No PPE. I'm on an emergency pack. ETA, two minutes on mine." He hoped it was still closer to four but you never did get the lab rated duration on this stupid packs.

There was a brief pause. Not that opportunities like this arose that often. "Noted Unit Two. Priority remains live recovery. Proceed as discussed."

Of course.

Varnan flung himself out of the window, rolling over the snow and landing next to Elara. "Are you alright?" He asked, standing up seeing...

Someone else. Someone coming this way. Not good. "Just a fight! Go home!"

@Blizz

"MFF Special Security!" Jackson shouted back, by way of announcing he wasn't simply a street person wandering by.

Slowly Jackson started creeping out from behind the SUV, cutting across the street he made a quick hand gesture to the intern girl to roll down her window. Once she did, Jackson tossed her his long range radio unit from his belt. Hopefully he'd be close enough to the vehicle he wouldn't need it to connect with the base-station in the SUV. "There's a radio. Take the wheel, get around to the back alley. Keep your distance. Don't do anything stupid, just let me know if this thing tries to run and get safe. That's it, go."

The SUV started peeling off as Jackson crossed the street, keeping cover between himself and whatever was inside the shop. He looked over at the other man, still covered in snow and broken glass. "I got backup on the way. Let's play this smart. It's in there. Get your people out, let's stay out here. Does that thing understand English? Can I talk to it?"

---

Around the back alley, Alejandra Escriva pulled the SUV up, facing the back alley behind the tattoo parlor.

Just keep the engine running and radio if that thing comes out She kept telling herself over and over again.

The SUV's dashboard had a radio on it that crackled with Jackson's voice, whispering. "CENTRAL, I'm right outside now. About to initiate contact. Live recording starting... now."

The emotionless response came back. "Proceed unit two."

Alejandra held her breath, the radio she held trembling in her left hand.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Alejandra Escriva - The Intern

_{Location: Somewhere near Rook's Rest
Mentions: Ryan Jackson, @NoriWasHere, @FernStone, @Blizz}

"I'm sorry you got stuck with me." Alejandra Escriva was watching Ryan Jackson from her position in the passenger seat of the blacked out SUV they were driving. He had the look of a man white-knuckling his his way through his 3rd hour of gridlocked traffic but there were hardly any cars on the streets.

Jackson pulled the vehicle into an empty industrial lot where shoots of grass and weeds came up from the cracked, uneven concrete. "Where are we?" She asked, the area looked industrial, like some old warehouse or factory district with old red brickwork, boarded up windows and rusted out iron.

Jackson, again, didn't answer, he checked his messages, and texted something instead then finally called someone when he apparently didn't like the answer he'd gotten.

Eventually Alejandra took the hint, he was busy and not interested in her chit-chat. She leaned back in her seat, looking out the window as some old lady wearing 3 parkas pushed a shopping cart down the laneway and questioned her life choices. Jackson was arranging some sort of meeting with someone, it sounded like, through an intermediary and it seemed to involve back and forth that would've annoyed Alejandra as well.

Jackson finally ended his call and shoved the phone back in the pocket of his suit jacket. "It's not you." He offered by way of conciliation while checking his mirrors before setting the vehicle in motion again. "Look, Alejandra, you see nice. But I got things to do, and the only reason you're here is to keep me busy and out of the boss's hair so I can't stop him doing stupid shit that's gonna cause me all manner of trouble." Jackson's tone was that of a man that foresaw many ways things were turning against him and only grudgingly accepted there was nothing he could do about it.

Alejandra nodded along as though she fully understood what Jackson was saying. "Stuff with Gideon?"

Jackson looked at her a moment, snorted then started pulling the car around back out to the road. "You don't know the first thing..." but he stopped himself before saying more. "Do you even know who Gideon is?"

"You're showing me the ropes." Alejandra smiled sweetly. "Why don't you tell me?"

Jackson looked at her a moment as they stopped before he pulled back out into the street. Alejandra had taken courses in reading human behaviour but in that moment she had no idea what Ryan Jackson was thinking. "No offence Ms Escriva, but whatever Mr Foster said: I don't know you. I don't trust you."

That answered a few things though.

"It sounds like you don't trust Mr Foster." She replied, trying to draw him out.

Jackson just laughed at that. The vehicle rocked back and forth down as it accelerated down the poorly maintained south side street. "Let me give you some advice Alejandra. However friendly Mr Foster seems, no matter what he says, or what he's offering: that man is not your fucking friend."

"You work for him."

"I'm serious now. I know what he is. I dealt with his type all my life. You? You are exactly his type."

Alejandra's expression softened a little. She really hadn't been sure what to make of Mr Foster their first meeting but she was already making a mental note not to let herself get caught alone with him again. "I appreciate the warning. I want you to know... I really appreciate your being an ally here..."

"No no. He ain't sizing you up for sex shit. I mean, I bet he's into some freaky-shit, but no. What I mean is you, coming in all new, all looking to change the world. He is gonna blow smoke up your ass and then dump you in shit you got no business being in. Like this. Because he knows someone like me is gonna tell him: no go fuck yourself. In fact, the less I tell you, the safer you actually are."

"It sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Jackson laughed, and it wasn't just the that he laughed, it was that he seemed to find her funny in a way that set her ill at ease. "You think you can interrogate me now? You're an intern, right? What'd you even do in school?"

"Social work?" Alejandra offered, knowing as she said it that this was the wrong answer.

"Are you shitting me? Social work?" Jackson chortled. "How the fuck did you wind up tied in MFF, shouldn't you be in like, interning with troubled youth or something?"

"My parents wanted me to 'try' something a little more business oriented. Plus I wanted to do something south side and there wasn't a lot of funding for positions here."

"Thought you could slide your way into one of the charitable organizations?"

Alejandra nodded.

Jackson snorted. "They're mostly tax write-offs anyway. Let me let you in on another secret. No one gets as rich as Mr. Foster being a good person. Near as I can figure there's only one way to become a rich person."

"What's that?"

"Take more from other people than you give back. That's it. Rich people do it. The rest of us fucking deal with it." Jackson's voice took on a grim tone. "Which is why, if you're smart, you'll keep your mouth shut, don't ask too many questions. And get the fuck back to north side."

"What about this meter thing on the dash?"

"What'd I just say? Don't worry about it..."

"Okay... but... should it be making that sound?" Alejandra asked, pointing at the meter on the dash whose needle was quivering towards the top third of its range and crackling like a geiger counter in Chornobyl. "Is that radiation? Is that bad?"

Franklin Foster looked at the meter briefly, then his head was turning sharply around as though searching for something.

"Should I be..." Alejandra's question was lost as the SUV veered and braked abruptly before pulling a tight u-turn through the next intersection. "What are you..."

"Shut up now." Jackson's voice wasn't upset, but it took on an icy cold that suggested her talking now was suddenly a very bad idea. Holding the hand-hold tightly as the vehicle spun about Alejandra watched his eyes flicking from the meter on the dash towards the nearby streets as though he were looking for something specific - comparing the two.

As they started accelerating back the way they'd come Alejandra noted the meter, which had died off briefly start spiking and crackling again. Jackson's eyes were on the street and store fronts. "I think..."

Then a flash in one of the shop windows and someone exploded out through the glass. Alejandra bit her lip as she was slammed against the side of the vehicle and Jackson pulled the vehicle across the centerline of the street and brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt on the side of the street opposite the exploded shop window.

Alejandra's eyes narrowed at the person lying prone on the pavement. Behind her Jackson was talking to someone on his phone or a radio, reading off their location from the street signs.

"We've got a possible Aural Incident here. I'm monitoring now. Will advise. Over."

Alejandra was wondering if whoever it was on the pavement was still alive, and only realized she'd been holding her breath when she saw them start moving, picking themselves up again. Her attention was jarred away by Jackson's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, listen now." His voice was sharp, but surprisingly calm. Looking at him, Alejandra realized this was normal for him. He didn't even seem concerned: just focussed. "I need you to record this Alejandra. Get your phone. Everything you can get. Faces. Details. All of it. No matter what happens, keep that window up and stay in the vehicle. Okay?"

She nodded, reaching for her phone. Only belatedly did she realize while he'd been telling her all that, Jackson had been busy checking a pistol he'd produced from under his jacket.

"Are we calling the cops?"

"This is south side - cops don't want any part of this. Just record."

Alejandra had her phone out, zooming in as best she could on the person on the ground. The picture was grainy, and hard to see but it was recording.

"Get it all." Jackson encouraged, rummaging through the glove box for something.

"You're like... a cop or something. Shouldn't we do something?" She asked.

"I'm not a cop. You think it's a good idea to jump in on a gangland turf war, not knowing who or what's involved?"

Alejandra said nothing to that, still gripping her phone like her life depended on it as she recorded through the blacked out window. She was still trying to figure out what was wrong with the person who'd been defenestrated when there was another flash inside and her camera caught the outline of something else within.

She felt Jackson peering over her shoulder at the same thing. "What the hell is that?"

"Huh..." Was Jackson's reply. When she turned to ask again what the fuck was going on she heard the driver's side door opening.

"Stay in the fucking car." He told her. "If something happens to me. Don't stick around. Engine's running. You fucking drive and you don't look back."

Alejandra nodded and kept filming.

"Alejandra!" She turned and looked back, expecting something wrong but he was just staring at her through the open door. "Tell me you understand, okay?"

"I understand."

"Good. I'll be right back." He nodded to her and slammed the door closed behind him.

---

MFF Corporate Security Agent Ryan Jackson

_{Location: Showdown at the Bill Smith Corral}

Ryan Jackson stayed behind the black SUV, making his way to the rear of the vehicle. He could smell the acrid scent of the vehicle exchaust still running and through it, from across the street, a smell like burnt ozone. He checked clip in his pistol, to make sure it was loaded with the right mix for weird shit.

Final checks.

He checked his pistol, make sure it was loaded with one of the special clips; a mixed loadout of silver, cold iron and for good measure, they even had some fucking priest bless the things though Jackson was pretty sure that had never done anything. The standard welcome package. He took a breath, preparing himself.

Then he reached for the little device attached to his belt. Flipped it on, waiting for the rising hum to steady out as the Emotional Field device flicked on. The emergency unit he had was good for about five minutes.

Better than nothing

Deep breath. "Hey! What the fuck's going on over there!?"

If this was standard gang stuff, this was the point they'd usually tell someone passing by to fuck-off.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

Rudy arrived just behind Nicola, impeded somewhat by the kerosene lantern swinging wildly about his wrist, his pistol was already in his hand though he held it up to provide Masako more light even as he craned his neck to see himself. The size and shape of the bite wounds, difficult to make out. "Even in the worst of the Carpathian fighting, men didn't do this to one another. This is worse than dogs." He exclaimed mirthlessly and shook his head before glancing back at Nicola. "See, now evidence has led us to talking about 'repeat' killers."

He paused then, casting his look about the trees, and gravestones as though the killer might still be out there, watching them. Still he was processing all this. "Whoever it is, they keep coming back here to... eat. It's madness, utter madness. My opinion? We hold off reporting the body just yet. Or maybe report to Temple... but leave the body for now. Clear away. It's cold night out tonight. The cold always makes men hungry."

"Set a watch, concealed. Over there." He gestured through the distance, the pistol still grasped in his hand his voice taking on a steely quality Nicola had never heard in his voice before. This was the voice of a man who seemed inclined to shoot another human being this very night. "See if our killer is still hungry." He looked around at some the other veterans present as though looking for confirmation they too would be willing to sacrifice an evening for a potential opportunity to end whoever did this that very night.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Ioan M. Foster

The Hollow Tap
1530 hours

The presence of a blue maserati on the streets of south side was a rare sight south side, the sort of flare that only a handful of individuals this side of the river dared to show in public. If its mere presence outside the Hollow Tap Coven didn't attract attention to the few people lingering around the street corners, the revving of its engine - loud enough to wake the dead - before it peeled away from the curb certainly had.

Whatever anyone thought of the obnoxious sound, or the somewhat diminutive man with dark and steel grey eyes in the tailored suit and polished shoes that was left standing there, no one said anything. People around The Hollow Tap knew better than to ask questions or open their mouths, and it was the one place an over-dressed man might reasonably expect to be left alone in all of South Side.

Putting a hand on the door to the Hollow Tap he pushed it open and stepped inside. Within he lingered at the threshold as though waiting while his blue eyes adjusted to the lighting while he surveyed the tables, the patrons, and the bar itself. Whatever thoughts passed through his mind a nostalgic smiled tugged at his lips and he nodded to himself before approaching the bar.

Curious glances from some of the pub regulars seemed to confirm this wasn't one of the familiar faces they were used to seeing walk-in, nor did the man show any recognition to any of the faces present - some of whom might have been familiar from another time, and another life long, long ago.

The man made eye contact with the bartender and smiled a broad friendly smile as he approached. "I'm here to see Gideon." He said this as though it were an ordinary thing to say here. Nor was it framed as a question. "Let him know Ioan's here, and likes what he's done with the place." Despite not being a familiar face, the man leaned patiently against the bar affecting a sort of seemingly genuine relaxed calm that some common visitors here never truly mastered.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

NPCs

Ryan Jackson

Ryan.Jackson

41 | Ryan Jackson | He/Him [hr//]"The fuck is that?"

Description:

Ryan Jackson's official resume has him working in corporate biotech, working for several companies selling boring agricultural products around the world. Unofficially a deep background check into US government comes mostly redacted and might actually raise system flags about anyone searching the name.

These days he's retired from government work, having entered the far more lucrative business of corporate security. Four years ago he'd assumed a career that had taken him to global hot spots meant he'd seen it all and that his employment with MFF Industries would be a quiet retirement, mostly keeping tabs on foreign and strategic threat groups trying to steal sensitive MFF Industry secrets.

Holy shit was he wrong.

Abstraction:

None, but may have access to minor artifacts

Alejandra Escriva

Alejandra.Escriva

23 | Alejandra Escriva | She/Her [hr//]"I'M JUST AN INTERN!"

Description:

alejandra is a recent graduate of NCU, father is from southside but has lived in north Cloverfield all her life. She recently completed her masters in social work, but was pressured by family to take a more business oriented internship with the intent of doing community work southside.

Her internship with MFF Industries has recently taken a sudden and dramatic turn after CEO Ioan Foster decided he 'saw something' in her.

Abstraction:

None