The Harbinger of Ferocity

Post a random fact about yourself.

I like starting trouble with people I like because their anger is so sweet and I could never get enough of it.

@Chasebloodcrest

I cannot begin to imagine attempting to irritate others for the sake of personal pleasure. It is not enough that I am generally devoid of feeling much of anything aside from those few things that I am irrationally bound to, having traded one curse for another, the dull iron shackles for those of gold, but it is even more that this is as alien a phenomena as it could be to me; I have heard this before and yet I still cannot appreciate it.

Marvels of Mountain City

Moreland
Approximately 2100 Hours
Mountain City

"No, not from you." Moreland's lips curled into a telling smile as the vagrant onlookers, all in some various state of stupor or confusion, looked around.

"Well then who the-" The previously speaking man was pushed aside with enough force that has he hurled backward into a concrete pillar of the overpass, he whipped against it with enough force to stun him. He fell, back sliding against the surface and landed sitting, clutching the back of his head and exhaling sharply, the breath taken out of his lungs from the blow. The seemingly casual push of the stranger's hand, palm turning him aside, had tossed him with tremendous force.

The other three stood to, one sitting scrambling to his feet as this all unraveled before him and the other two. They were shaken, rightfully so, and one of them had his eyes widen to the point it seemed his pupils might consume the whole of his eyes at this rate. Whether it was their own mania or something else, they only knew deep down that the uncomfortable chill they felt down their spine was very real. The figure walked closer as one of them reached for a knife from his pocket and threatened with it, giving a string of curses as he fumbled about, and by the time he had the blade's point flick out and waved it around, the attacker struck him to the chest.

The man howled, howled with confused pain and only coherent enough to have staggered backward, clutching the deep gashes in the flesh before dropping to a knee; the knife clattering next to him on the ground as he used that previously busy hand to now balance himself. He bled from the uneven rending he received and was even more in a state of shock than he had been, speaking in rambling form between wounded breaths.

"No, not you," Moreland kept walking right on by, another of the now victims cringing and wincing, he stopped at the man who had been sitting and who now slowly sat back down after having tried and failed to slink away, "You."

Unlike the others, who could not see what they were dealing with in actuality, the sheer terror in his expression indicated this one man could. The only other left kept quiet and against the wall, watching the two and the soon to be unfolding conversation. Moreland left him alone, at least for now, as it seemed he was not about to intervene and wisely so.

"James Palmer."

A few moments paseds as the two shared a long stare between one another, the fallen man quivering a bit and finally blinking.

"James Palmer."

The voice repeated to him, the same steady, unwavering voice addressing him as if speaking to his soul. The man finally nodded slightly, replying softly enough that over the rest of the ambiance of the city night hidden away as they were it would be hard to hear him, "That's... that's me."

"I know," The stranger nodded back, "And I know that you can see me, too. So you know why I am here."

There was a moment of resistance that James gave before he was stared down into submission, having only managed a few meek words about delusions and hallucinations. However, he trailed off until he could not speak anymore as Moreland towered over him. The man kneeling, still clutching his injury toppled over behind the figure before James, having gone unconscious while the other against the pillar was trying to stand up slowly, concussed from the sudden stop the blow earlier left him with against the pillar; it seemed his focus and his grip on reality was more cemented now.

"What is it - what do you - what -"

"You know what I want, James. I want to know what you have seen." Moreland interrupted the incoherent loop that was building back up again in the terrified man's behavior. Before the man could protest again, there was a slow shake of the head from side to side, and an audible, commanding "no".

"You will do this, James."

"Or what?!"

The outburst overcame the rest of the city's background as the effectively cornered man resisted, his voice echoing off the walls before it fell away into near silence. All the unsettling presence that came up until this point had been pervasive but now? Now it was as thick as a fog around the remaining three. It grew more terrible and tangible as a dim, translucent, smoky white corona burned from the slowly unfurling fingers that had been balled into a fist. More and more of the extremities disappeared until the metaphorical mists grew into a literal one, both figures having vanished into it before it dispersed, leaving only the voice in a far deeper, growled tone.

"I tear it out of you and we go on a walk."

Post a random fact about yourself.

We are conflict avoiders.

@Gunther

The best method of dealing with conflict is to first not be embroiled by it or so I have found. Becoming mired in it only brings more trouble, which has always led me to wonder why people flock and gather to it. It reminds me of stories of people walking toward the receding tide just to try and see the source of the oddity. This is not to say I am opposed to conflict but I certainly do not go looking for it.

Post a random fact about yourself.

I do not like trouble. Anything out of the ordinary or routine is often viewed with skepticism, often overshadowed by perceiving it as possible threat.

Marvels of Mountain City

I will come to continue my character's scene tomorrow unless anyone is interested in interfering or intervening. If so, by all means do what one intends to and it will be addressed from there. Otherwise, I will try to keep my tiny side of the puzzle building with that coming day.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Brannor is on initiative count 19 but only rolls a 5 and another 5 for the Dexterity saving throw, @Hekazu. We will see what our potential new ally or at least company will do seeing as the kobolds interrupted the conversation.

Post a random fact about yourself.

I keep the small tokens and trinkets I am given, even the words themselves. The meaning behind all things in life matters greatly to me and each thing is imbued with some amount of that.

Marvels of Mountain City

Moreland
Approximately 2045 Hours
Warpath National Park
Whitetail Run

Along the hills of Appalachia, small dots of campfire light glowed among the thick woodland and lit up a largely dark, cold night with their warm orange radiance. There were few out at this season and with good reason as it was not all too pleasant with the stir of the wind, the same that carried between the trees and down the mountains. While it was not whipping, it was far removed from the best seasons of the year here, and it dissuaded enough to make it more quiet than it could be. The song among the branches, however, did not go ignored as some invisible element whispering on the wind spoke back from one of the rocky outcroppings.

At first there were no lips, no mouth, no face to even say anything at all but there clearly was a voice. It said quite plainly, should any have been there to hear it, "You called?"

The wind spoke back, the soft sway of some of the boughs above stilled without warning after and a calm fell upon the mountain. A certain peculiar stillness that would have made the hairs upon the back of the neck stand on end. That is, of course, if the voice from nothing was not enough.

Upon the outcropping the voice came again, alongside teeth as long as a man's forearm from the darkness, "I had been waiting, you know. Waiting for a very, very, very long time."

Each ghostly limb tensed its digits upon the stonework as it took form until in a single exhale made it flesh again. Living, breathing, and clearly from some other time and place. It stood in the darkness, seeing it almost as if it were day, and more importantly, the place for which it was called to act; the glow of a city. Both piercing eyes blinked softly as the tremendous figure turned to leave, yet it was stopped in its tracks, an ear swiveled back.

"Is that so?" The dark jowls questioned as they carried out each word before ending with, "I had high hopes it was time enough but if that is the way it will be done..."

A kneeling man slowly stood with a visible wince where the beast was, looking no worse for wear on this cold night alone. He looked over his palms, articulating his fingers before he shivered and breathed out a cloud of steam. It was clear he was not dressed for this environment at all, no jacket to turn the worst of the wind aside, and in slightly worn clothes, down to the damage of his jeans even.

"... then that is the way it will be done."

The wind around the rocky perch stirred as it raced to life once more and he disappeared from sight. It was not long before he stood again in the heart of the city. The sort of thing that would be missed in the blink of an eye, just another nameless person among the streets. For him, however, that was another story altogether, and the moment he arrived he was on his way, following behind the last person to step in front of him. No one would notice or come to think of anyone in the masses and that was one of the first key steps to getting to where he needed to go. His eyes darted back and forth, seeming to look around for the first sign and indication he could get what it was he needed to better get by in the living illusion.

When he finally spied it, he moved on it, slipping his hands from his pockets and narrowing his eyes; it was not that being in the city had already soured his mood but it had not helped at all. So by the time he turned down the walkway toward the people gathered near the underpass, what would come next would be brief, very brief at that, and more so than ever as both parties looked at one another.

"You want something?" One of the four asked...

Marvels of Mountain City

The Aspect

Archetype:
Feral, Mystical
Name:
Timothy Moreland, listed as initially missing and presumed deceased as of February 23rd, 2013. The astral entity colloquially referred to as "The Aspect" operates under any number of names, appearing to have no real concept to any of them or any loyalty to the ideal. Known functional aliases include but are presumed not limited to "Scott Penn", "Christopher Snow", and "Mark Theron" but other informal titles directly related to its being exist as well, some of which it has addressed itself by as "The Wilder" or "The Red".
Alias:
"The Aspect", or simply "Aspect", is the functional designation used for the sake of convenience.
Age:
Moreland portrays an apparent physical age of twenty-six years while generous estimates place the the Aspect as young as 41,290 BCE. As with its name, little is known or understood about the "Aspect" due to its non-living nature.
Powers:
Mysticism or "pure magic" of and relating to the soul or spirits as well as interaction with the astral plane, see index references to Astral Manipulation with special emphasis on subsets of Astral Attacks, Astral Fortitude, Astral Projection, Astral Trapping, and Astral Vision. The most notable and overt of which is the manipulation of the body and soul, the method in which the "Aspect" manages to control the deceased, formerly Moreland. Because the "Aspect" is a spiritual entity, it can assume a variety of forms by manipulating itself, although it only takes a select set of them and will not vary. These are presumed to be in conjunction with its "feral" identity, that its make-up is biased in a certain direction and will not, even if reasonably capable of it, deviate from that.

Because the "Aspect" is a non-physical entity regularly, it is not regularly meaningfully harmed by material, physical interaction with the universe. While it can be disabled in the bodily world or even "killed" in that sense, such as by outright destruction of its possessed, manipulated form, the "Aspect" itself is only readily discorporated and pushed back into the astral plane, where it may manifest again in spirit form or simply remain there. Regularly, it will choose to to fight from either or both perspectives, tearing at soul and flesh alike with claw and fang.
Weaknesses:
Magic, note that spiritual entities are only readily physically and supernaturally vulnerable to forces of magic. While all forms of magic still impact them, some forms of magic are highly ineffective, such as those that manipulate the living or cause harm based on physical approximation. As consequence, psychic powers are much more effective as they directly confront and attack astral beings on a level that regularly only other astral beings can, another subset of its weakness to magic. Likewise, their physical manifestations into the world are not immortal even if unnaturally resilient and capable of functioning up to outright destruction.
Alignment:
Neutral, Walking the Line
Personality:
Aloof, Cunning, Mystical, Predatory, Prideful
Appearance:
Average in both weight and height for age, Moreland is a non-distinct adult white male with brown hair and brown eyes. Despite his status as an actually dead person, operant in body and name only, Moreland bears no evidence of his animation by the "Aspect" outwardly. Guided to appear like most his peers and draw as little attention to himself as possible, he frequently dresses appropriate for the occasion but never anything particularly well off; always subdued and likely to be ignored, fade into the background. Moreland is the type of regular person, presumably on purpose, who one would forget upon meeting them unless something unusual happened during that instance. As result, Moreland often at most wears a sweatshirt, jeans, and trail shoes, but will feign being affected by weather such as through appropriate dress.

The "Aspect", however, when manifest through Moreland or whatever it is in possession of, often takes its chosen form of an enormous cat. For obvious reason as it it is the "Aspect of the Ferine" or some spirit of old still left lingering that has coalesced to embody a number of ideals of its archetype. While it can change shape and size appropriately, as well as make itself "invisible" by entering the astral plane, while in possession of Moreland it cannot perform these more exotic changes such as its innate quality of being unseen by mundane methods. Regardless, it manifests physically and in astral forms as the aforementioned animal to do the majority of its work when it needs act directly.
Biography:
On Friday, February 22nd, 2013, at approximately 0952 hours, Timothy Moreland, a twenty-six year old college history student, departed on a solo hike in the Appalachian Mountains from Mountain City at the trail head of Ace of Clubs Trail, Warpath State Park. By 2300 hours, Saturday, Februrary 23rd, while it was determined he was missing, law enforcement were not notified by his roommates until that following Monday, more than forty-eight hours later. After several days of searching Warpath State Park and reasonable avenues of approach or departure, neither Moreland or his vehicle could be found, leading police to broaden their search. Moreland was never found and was never heard from again.

Unfortunately, Moreland had at some point during one of his nights lost in the forest encountered extraordinary phenomena and while it is unclear if he willingly addressed it or had attempted to flee from it, he did not see the sunrise of Monday. Moreland suffered a fatal fall from a mountainside scree field on Ace of Clubs Trail and was revived, physically, by the same thing he had encountered during his time in the forest. For all intents and purposes, this is where the story of Timothy Moreland ends. It is unclear why there was astral phenomena along this section of Warpath State Park, however, speculation by those informed on the incident itself suggest that he was targeted, likely because he was alone, lost, and vulnerable, and would serve as an excellent means to complete the objectives held by the "Aspect". After assuming the identity of the victim, the "Aspect" had an entry and a way into the world, further leading some to suggest it had been banished for an extended period, as its effective death is implausible.

In turn, the "Aspect of the Ferine" disappeared for a time and so did Moreland as consequence. Only relatively recently of the past year has there been growing evidence to suggest that the "Aspect" is overtly active again and acting on its agenda. What that agenda is, is unclear, but appears to orient around a pursuit of some kind that is relentless and singularly focused.
Potential Storylines:
There is no reason the "Aspect" posing as Moreland cannot be convinced to and from either side of Mountain City's forces. Its agenda is its own and it has no through and through loyalties, making it a readily available ally if the interests align. While this design makes it untrustworthy to the ends of others and difficult to manipulate long term, it is a force with as of yet shaped direction.
Notes:
No additional comment provided by reviewer.

Marvels of Mountain City

Thank you for the response and not to worry on the matter of delay, @Omega Man. I just wanted to be sure there was some sort of system and plan in mind and clearly there is.