Location: Margaret Carter - Winter Carnival Magic Items: Thousand-Faced Rose, Rune Stones First Day Fit: Letterman jacket, baggy pants, sneakers.
Leah grinned, and let herself get pulled along on her blades. Sabine was right, ruining the moment was priority negative infinity, not priority one. So she pushed forward and picked up speed, content to whirl around the field of ice with a super sexy blonde mentalist at her side. She surprised herself with how easy this seemed. Balancing all of her everything on two razor-thin blades without them snapping underneath her, or even just wobbling too much wouldn't have been shock, but it turned out that a lot of the skill in swerving around this fast came down to standing still. Leah didn't move that much, she leaned left and right, and occasionally pushed one leg in front of the other to maintain momentum, but it was mostly just doing very little on purpose to avoid fucking it up.
And Leah was pretty damn good at standing her ground. So this was pleasantly simple.
As they made a lap around the rink, a thought occurred to Leah. "...Jotunheim's colder than anything on Earth, constantly. I bet they do a lot more skating back there. A lot more than us." One day, she would have to get some proper clothes for that frozen planet she was born on, sooner or later. Maybe she'd learn how to enchant things with her runes to make them emit constant warmth.
"I'm a fucking genius- One day, I'm going back there. When I do, I'll find out." She flashed Sabine a grin like that of a golden retriever. "Imagine. Biggest ice rinks you've ever seen. If they don't? I'll cast some spells and fucking make one, right in the middle of Jarnvidr. Then I'm wrapping you up so you don't freeze, and I'm giving you the coolest fucking date I can think of."
Holy shit, her heart was thudding. Leah felt gay as fuck.
Location: Margaret Carter - Winter Carnival Magic Items:She’s no magician but you know she’s got that magic wand. First Day Fit: Floral button-up, slacks, converse shoes.
Marlena's eyes widened at the sight of the holographic stuff. Flaming bees, just out of nowhere, spawned by someone's powers going weird? That was certainly chaotic, she couldn't imagine being there in person. What the hell kind of superpowers could just spawn swarms of incinerating insects? "That sounds like a lot, yeah. Don't blame you for stepping out, I would've done the same." The Contest was fine as a spectacle, but Marlena would be lying if she said it was fun watching that giant magic thing appear. And the rock girl just going for the throat- literally- for reasons known only to God. (Or Odin? Or... Loki? Aegir? Fuck if she knew.)
"I'll keep the advice in mind, though." She had to wonder if Vicky was just a pessimist. Other people who had been around the block a few times seemed enthusiastic, and Vicky just admitted to abstaining on moral contention. And, on top of that, she really didn't need another reason to dread this. Thankfully, though, a distraction came in the form of a whole crowd of barely thirteen year old girls, all screeching about Millie.
Fame had a way of turning people into black holes for attention. They accosted the three older girls and immediately shoved a bunch of sharpies in Millie's face, asking for them to sign their... Faces? What?
Taylor Swift and Katy Perry??? Oh, these kids were crazy. Marlena flinched when the sharpies were jabbed in her direction. They didn't even know her! Or Vicky, if her assessment of the girl's connection to Excelsior was accurate. What did she have to do with this?! Did they just think she was a famous superhero because she happened to be hanging out with a semi-famous superhero and Millicent Broadway? That idea made Marlena a little uneasy, she got along easy with people so she already liked Millie, and April seemed nice too. If this was how anyone even vaguely in their orbits was going to get treated, Marlena wasn't going to be very happy.
"Woah- Ladies, please. You've got the wrong girl. I just go here, and happened to chat up these two. I dunno who I look like, but I'm definitely not a pop-star, sorry to disappoint."
Marlena's trying to convince these kids to not demand an autograph from her and be sane and normal. Charisma skill applies, making this a held roll because it's dependent on what NPCs do."
Tommy moved through the crowd of dancing, drunken faces with caution. Anyone could bump into someone else, and get antsy about it. A simple watch it could turn into a drunken fight in front of everyone. And if a fight broke out, he'd just fuck off and go home. If someone tried to make him drink some of that blue sludge he saw at one of the "bar tables," as someone charitably considered them, he'd just fuck off and go home. If someone told him he wasn't actually invited, that he needed to leave before someone got embarrassed? Believe it or not, three tries to get it right, he'd just fuck off and go home. The thrum of the music was obnoxious, the sounds of wails and laughter threatened to give Tommy a migraine, and he was pretty damn sure he smelled something illegal in between the notes of booze and sweat. How did anyone tolerate this long enough for a party to begin and then finish? Did they just get so damn inebriated that they didn't notice the Check Engine lights in their brains? Did they just fucking tough it out? People were fucking weird.
He recognized a few faces. That softball girl, running into the bathrooms that a derelict warehouse seemed to have. Tuyen Doan, not far behind her. He didn't know either of them very well, why would he? He knew plenty of people, but not well. Not personally. They were just faces, not even really acquaintances.
He felt someone poke him, and turned around.
“Wow. Who invited you?”
Tyler fucking Fox. Tommy craned his head up to look at the taller guy, he didn't have a particularly amused expression on his face. Nobody gave two shits about Tyler beyond his ability to toss a ball and give himself concussions on the field. The guy had an ego he conflated for justification to be annoying in the general vicinity of people who couldn't be bothered to remember his name if he wasn't always shouting about the team. Tommy, being someone who didn't really care about sports, didn't typically hang around in the same circles as Tyler.
So why was he being singled out here?
”Dunno. Must have been a ghost or something,” Tommy remarked. Probably some kid who didn't want the cops blaming them for this, and thought anonymous numbers were good enough for that. ”What about you? Your coach a fan of underage drinking, Fox?” Honestly, who invited him? Tommy could've understood being left out himself, but Tyler? Tyler was just a punk with a half-decent arm. He sure as shit wasn't bringing drugs, he'd get kicked off the team for it. What kind of good vibes was his bitch ass bringing?
Two more screens of magical energy went up in front of Grask and the others, the tubes of energy flickering slightly. Grask whirled around, aimed and shot a slab of rubble that was blocking a road. Distance be damned, a man who made a career out of guns was a man who could shoot, and he plonked backwards into a ditch. The bullet sparked, and a small burst of purple energy sent it flying about a foot up, then into the ground where it couldn't hurt anyone. He turned and started back towards the Inn slowly, intent on staying relatively near this group so he could cover them. Whatever was going on, it was chaotic and devastating enough that this town was surely about to get leveled. He wasn't some ruthless businessman, despite his profession. No, Grask was a sane individual, he wasn't about to just leave others to die. So when the illusions announced some semblance of a plan, and when a beam of light designated someone with initiative, Grask was prepared.
"These barriers won't last long," Grask began, breaking open his Manablaster and loading another psionic round. "But I've got plenty of them!" As if to illustrate his point, one flickered out of the air like a broken window. Grask raised his gauntlet and checked the energy vessels, they weren't supposed to be flickering like that. It had to have been some kind of magic from the tower that was causing all this, not just an earthquake with terrible timing.
"Magic- There aren't any wizards in town that can shut that damned thing off?! It's tearing the entire town apart, we can't stay in the Inn forever! I'll cover all of you!"
Cornell was a sleepy place. For all the unease, for all the waiting, there was a yawn that began lifetimes ago.
A black Mercury Cougar rolled down empty streets. There was scarcely another car on the road at this hour, no one seeing the old thing turn off the main road and down the winding paths of the town. The interior was cast in shadow, not a sound from the radio or the signs of any life from Tommy's empty passenger seat. He turned this way and that, one arm propped against the door and the other on the wheel. The street lights were sparse, some of them were out and no one was bothering to fix them. Most people were out cold by now, the parents and older folks were indoors and all surely asleep. Meanwhile, half of a generation was up and at 'em at this godforsaken hour.
It wasn’t like there was shit else to do, anyway.
Tommy picked up some speed.
He was surprised anyone had even invited him. Most people didn’t really hang out with a guy like him, let alone bring him along for late-night activities such as a party. But it seemed like everyone was going, and miraculously, he was included. Tommy might not have even known there was a party going on otherwise. He had nothing better to do, and maybe it’d be fun. Maybe he’d have some laughs before he drove home. His mother and father weren’t that overbearing, they weren’t likely to begrudge a kid his age for going to a party anyway. As long as he didn’t get home drunk or beaten to shit, which he wouldn’t.
After long minutes down a dark road, Tommy turned off at a fork and pulled up to a warehouse. It was easy to spot from a distance, with the lights of the few other cars being driven here and the people. He parked near the door, and it was dark enough that no one saw him lean back against his seat. Once the engine kicked off, he felt the vibration of the music coming from inside. Tommy wondered if, maybe, just maybe, this was a fluke. Maybe he wasn’t invited and someone had just dialed the wrong number. Maybe that text message had to be responded to before he deleted the contact he wasn’t familiar with. Maybe someone had dug up an old case and was here to-
Nah.
He sighed, and popped the glovebox open. From there, he grabbed his switchblade. He bought it off some senior last year, and there was surely a lot of alcohol in that warehouse right now. Tommy stuffed it into his jacket and swung his legs out of the car.
Inside, the music was loud. It almost felt hard to breathe for a second. It shook the floor and filled his stomach with the sensation of being grabbed by a vice. Fuck, that was a lot. He didn’t expect that, and he didn’t expect this many people. There were drinks being slung around, people making out like flesh was the last edible thing in town, and… Oh, someone was dancing on chairs. Sure, why not? It dawned on Tommy that he had no idea who the fuck any of these people were. He recognized the occasional face here and there, but most of them were total strangers. Shit, he imagined bonfires and drugs, not half the alcohol in town and more noise than a den of foxes in heat. Tommy was way out of his league in here.
”Well…”
He sighed, and watched people bump into each other. So many of these kids were drunk off their asses.
”…Shit.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and just strode forward into the mess.
Location: Margaret Carter - Winter Carnival Magic Items: Thousand-Faced Rose, Rune Stones First Day Fit: Letterman jacket, baggy pants, sneakers.
Thank fuck that Sabine was better at dealing with catty bitches than her. If Leah was left alone to sort out Jyoti and her little pack of attention whores, one of two things was most likely to happen. Either she'd tear them down with words and look like an absolutely sadistic bully, or things would escalate and she'd have to kick Dollar Store Storm's ass for a field goal to put her out of her power's preferred range. Leah wouldn't want to do that, it'd solve very little, but it'd get her to think twice about getting pissy with people she didn't know. People only hung around someone like that because they believed abasing themselves before someone with a smidgen of charisma was an acceptable substitute for their lack of personality. And Leah knew that because she was dating Sabine Bassard.
She waited for them to fuck off, before wheeling around. "Fucking insufferable. Time to bitch about other people being perfect, not enough time to fix their own shit." She sighed. "One of her friends nearly killed Vicky once, did you know that? I remember them, I was just being petty to fuck with her- They had some energy drain power, that before Vicky was open about being an ASTRA. Couldn't stop the fight and they didn't know, I nearly dropped the roof on them. Bitches, assholes, petty fuckers." Leah didn't even sound that mad. Just annoyed.
"Oooo-kay. Back to skating? Or do you want to see if anyone got killed in the last few minutes?" Leah asked.
Location: Margaret Carter - Winter Carnival Magic Items:She’s no magician but you know she’s got that magic wand. First Day Fit: Floral button-up, slacks, converse shoes.
Marlena pretended not to notice the blush that Natmokara had under her braids. The smirked, giving the clipboard back with her name on it. Hockey with powers sounded weird. For some people, it made sense if they couldn't just turn off super strength or cut off their wings. But she was telekinetic, how would that work? She also refrained from commenting on Millicent's apparent lack in know-how about acronyms. When the tiny girl bounced, Marlena wheeled around and turned her attention to someone that had walked up to her. Victoria, she almost didn't recognize her. She wasn't there in the Contest fight, but she was the one who made that antigravity field that Marlena danced with April in, which was really cool. Marlena stuck a hand out and clasped it around the robo-girl's
"Yeah, hey, that's me. I was wondering who I'm sharing a room with, I'll try and be an easy roommate. I'm new here, same as this lady here-" She turned and gestured to Millicent. "Saw you with the Contest winners, you wouldn't happen to be their Girl in the Chair, would you? I watched, but I didn't see you fighting."
_______________________________________________ Aisha Martin
She/Her | 16 | Black | 5'4" | 183lbs _______________________________________________ Alive _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Check this shit." ___________________________________
Magic Fingers ⫻ Aisha coped with the move to Cornell by taking up a guitar as a hobby. She's pretty damn good at it, and loves to just go wild on that shit when her parents are out of the house. She has the force of personality, the stage presence, and the lack of shame one simply must have to play with the energy Aisha brings.
Undiagnosed Pyromaniac ⫻ Aisha is... Strangely good at starting fires. She always carries a lighter with her, never afraid to light up a branch to scare some creep off or get a bonfire going. No one appreciates warmth until they've tried to actually burn something themselves.
Knife to Meet You ⫻ Aisha's mom always, always makes sure she's carrying a knife when she leaves the house. Even if it's to take a walk down the street, even if it's on her way to school. She insists the girl is always armed, and so Aisha is pretty handy with a sharp blade. She isn't afraid to chop a man up or do a cool trick in front of a pretty person.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "What are you looking at? My eyes are up here, dude."
...........
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'm the girl your pastor warned you about."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Aisha's one goal before the fuck-up of a party was to just get out of high school and head back home with her family. By then, the disaster around her mother's name would've been sorted. But now? Now, she wants to make sure everyone makes it out alive, not just herself. And then, when she finds the motherfucker that caused this, she'll kick their ass for a field goal.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Fucking live, man. Life's too short to sweat the hard stuff, and living in a shitshow of a town doesn't mean people have to deny themselves the right to be happy. Aisha doesn't let shit drag her down, she is wholly untethered by shame, a lack of confidence, or social conventions like an inside voice. People should chill the fuck out, sometimes.
SECRETS ⫻
SEXUALITY ⫻ Bisexual, but she prefers girls. Aisha doesn't do a lot of dating, but she definitely thinks a few of the people around town are hot as fuck. Like that Tuyen girl, and that preacher boy. Ugh, why is it always the pastor's son?
FEARS ⫻
REPUTATION IN CORNELL ⫻ The one who brings the energy. If you're having a bad day, you hang around Aisha. If you want someone to hang out with who won't bump you off or spend half of the evening checking their phone, you hit up Aisha. If you want someone who actually knows how the fuck to get a bonfire going? You bribe Aisha with some weed. And the bribing part is important, because Aisha is also one of the people most likely to just drop kick a guy who's acting like an asshole at a social event.
FLAWS ⫻
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Yeah... That happened."
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "This is gonna sting, sorry."
TYPE ⫻ Adept, Green Lux. Aisha's Channeler is a tarnished silver locket.
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Cobra's Cauldron
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Aisha's magic reflects her ability to roll with punches and work with what she's given. This quality is represented by her ability to pull the life force out of an entity with touch. The energy removed is stored in a metaphorical "cauldron," and mixed with Green Lux by Aisha to perform spells.
SNAKEBITE ⫻ Aisha makes physical contact with a target, and saps their life force. Swirling energy rolls off of them, and snakes up her arm and into an unseen place. Doing so weakens the target, dependent on how much they are drained. Side effects of this may include fatigue, physical weakness, blurred vision, or heightened sensitivity to temperatures. The energy harvested from targets can be stored for later use, with each application of Snakebite being roughly equal to one “dose” of another spell.
PURGING OIL ⫻ Aisha mixes her Lux with a single dose of life energy to synthesize a pale, red gunk that dissolves into biomass as quickly as it appears. This oil finds its way into blood and forces the body to heal at a faster rate. Flesh wounds and anything less severe are fully healed within an hour, with a chance of scarring depending on the specifics of the injury. Broken bones, concussions, or other forms of physical damage such as burns take longer, with more variance based on the injury.
When the oil does its work, it feels as if the subject is being warmed by a fire. The spell causes the body to heat up due to the forced rushing of natural healing. If Aisha spends a second dose of power on making the oil, this can be intensified enough to burn poisons out of a person’s body.
ARCANATOXIN ⫻ Aisha mixes two doses from the Cauldron with her Lux in such a way that causes her hands grow bristling green scales. Arcanatoxin is an emerald green, viscous liquid that coats the scales of her hands, which debilitates magical entities when applied. Apparitions normally untouchable, Abominables with supernatural biology, and even undead are slowly eaten away at by the poison. Beings with physical bodies are corroded as if subjected to acid, their forms slowly liquifying. Immaterial entities such as ghosts become frayed and have an increasingly difficult time to affect the world.
LIMITS ⫻ Aisha’s Abstraction has enough metaphysical capacity for life energy to equal about four doses of magic. Attempting to gather more with Snakebite wastes what is harvested, causing the energy to behave unpredictably once forced out of something. Aisha’s spells also have no use when applied to herself, meaning despite being capable of healing others, she can’t heal her own injuries.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)
_______________________________________________ Tommy Garret Bracken
He/Him | 16 | White | 5'7" | 176lbs _______________________________________________ Estranged _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "God damn... What now?" ___________________________________
Designated Driver ⫻ Tommy got his license about six months ago. He worked his ass off for it, and the freedom of having a car to go places. For a teenager, he's actually pretty stable behind the wheel. Most people his age aren't driving, and why would they? Where are they going? Nowhere, that's where.
Future Stage Magician ⫻ One of Tommy's biggest passions is stage magic. Card tricks, sleight of hand, a performance to wow some kid who can't even tie his shoes... It's the kind of thing that kept him sane growing up in a place as dead as Cornell.
Fixing Shit ⫻ No one in Cornell is paying for a mechanic to come and fix anything, some people can't be bothered to do it themselves. It's the Rust Belt, who the hell has that kind of money? Tommy moonlights as a cheap fixer of things as a summer job. For ten dollars, a WiFi router can be made to relinquish its password, and for twenty, you too can have Tommy Bracken figure out why your car is making that noise.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "What? I washed it yesterday."
Plain. Simple. Boring. Comfortable. Everything about Tommy Bracken’s appearance suggests laziness or a lack of energy. Baggy sweatshirts are a staple of his wardrobe, along with loose cargo pants and whatever pair of converse shoes he didn’t forget about. He usually has a tired look in his eyes that goes away the moment anyone notices something is off. His hair is blonde, and always a mess, but it’s the part of his appearance that Tommy puts the most effort into. He styles it into a frizzy undercut that’s grown out slightly.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Ho. Lee. Shit. What the hell is that?"
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Before the incident at the party, Tommy dreamed of being one of the few people that ever left Cornell. He dreamed of saving up enough money and finding a place far from Pennsylvania, where he’d connect with the world and make a name as a stage magician. The Tommy Bracken of his vision had friends and a family that he knew held him in high regard, and never had to question that he belonged somewhere.
Now that the world is trying to swallow Cornell up, his main goal is just seeing the end of whatever the fuck is happening.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Tommy believes that everyone can get a happy ending. He comes from the most barren town in the universe, and his life isn’t a complete loss. If he can manage that, he can manage better. And if he can manage better, then so can other people. All he has to do is try.
SECRETS ⫻ In the deepest reaches of the steel mill, one can find the skeletal remains of a man who went missing one year ago. The police never found his body, or the murder weapon. Tommy made sure they never would.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Tommy doesn’t get many chances to think about it. He at least feels an attraction to women, but there aren’t many options in Cornell.
FEARS ⫻ The prospect of growing old in Cornell terrifies him. He never wanted to be stuck here, in a dying town, even before it became a hellzone. And now, he has to grapple with the fear of possibly being killed by monsters.
REPUTATION IN CORNELL ⫻ Tommy is an acquired taste. People know him as a well-meaning, gruff guy who will bitch and grouse one moment, and then go out of his way to give them a lift home or sort out whatever they ask him for help with. His demeanor certainly deters people who don't know him, but he's not really a bad guy. Even if he seems dejected and distant sometimes.
FLAWS ⫻ Tommy has a tendency to get stuck in his own head. A habit he hasn't shaken since Cornell began drifting towards the Pit, in which he goes off the proverbial radar. Leave him be too long, and suddenly he's up on a rooftop thinking about who-knows-what. He goes quiet, fades into the background, and just haunts the place like a ghost. Tommy does these things because he lacks the sense of community that other people in his town have. Like a Texan in New York City, he isn't quite as connected to the people of Cornell as he should be. It's never been home to him, and so he's used to assuming that other people feel the same way towards him. Empathy for other people is what keeps him coming around, more so than a sense of belonging.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "You can't do worse than here."
Once upon a time, there was a man named Richard Bracken. He was a steelworker, slinging slag and metal with the best of them over the river in the olden days. Old Richie swung hammers and pulled chains, drove forklifts and pulled levers from six every morning to half past eight every evening. Five days a week, he dug in and sought the American Dream. He enjoyed the job, the feeling of making something and powering through was an accomplishment in his mind. The man didn’t do anything halfway, didn’t let the boss man keep him or anyone down. Richard was just the kind of man who didn’t belong in Cornell. And it wasn’t until he crossed paths with Lauren Walker that he learned that.
She was a waitress at the local diner, with dreams of moving out and heading off to Philadelphia when she saved up enough money for college. Her old man wanted her to “marry up,” her mother wanted her to just find some happiness. She was lonely one night, he was twenty-six, neither of them had anything better to do. So they got together one night at Richard’s place, and turned an entire bottle of tequila into a baby. They named it Tommy.
The nine months before he was born were a blurry disaster of a shotgun wedding, weeks without a night free of shouting, and a few fist fights between Richard and Mr. Walker. Ultimately, everyone came together and decided the kid deserved a chance in spite of his parents' bad decisions. Tommy didn't see a lot of his dad growing up, after the man added guilt to his list of motivations for working the mill. He did his best, even if his best wasn't always the best. His early life could've been better, but at least he had both a mother and father. There were very few times when both of them were in the same room, with one parents working the weekends and the other being on the clock most of the week.
As he got older, the steel mill became a rusted husk. His father was one of the last workers to ever set foot there, and before long, the beating heart of Cornell was cold. By the time Tommy was 10, his father had to give up the job. It's said that Old Man Richie died with the mill, but only a piece of him did. He never found another job after that, and took to spending more time with his kid. Tommy took after both his parents and believed that he could have a good life if he earned it. He had the fading drive of his father and the sensibility of his mother, neither of which wanted him to be stuck here. And so he pushed himself to try and get out there. He did the best he could in school, took on odd jobs around Cornell to earn spare cash, and did all the usual things errant kids did with disposable income.
High school rolled around, and Tommy got that itch every kid in Cornell gets. The itch to abandon the town and never look back, to tell himself he'd make it. His parents were behind him in that, even if his own dreams were built on what remained of theirs. He started spending more and more time away from home, feeling increasingly unhappy with the hand life dealt him. One night, he found a homeless guy doing card tricks for money on the street. Tommy emptied his pockets that night, absolutely fascinated by what the guy could do, and even learned how to do a few of them himself. It quickly became a fun hobby of his. A way to pass the time, wow people, and what teenage boy didn't thing it was cool?
Tommy didn't quite mesh with other kids his age the way he should have. All too often, he heard the whispers and gossip about how people were either getting out, or getting trapped. All too often, he'd sneak back into the house after a long night of teenage shenanigans just to catch his parents looking like their souls were snatched by paperwork on the kitchen table. On some of those nights, he just turned around and left again. Tommy tried to skirt around that sadness, but it stuck to him either way. He managed to turn it into anger on occasion, but it dragged him down all the same.
The day he finally managed to afford an old, beat-up, used car was one of the best days of his life. His parents were awfully curious how, but it was easy to explain that he'd been working like a damn robot over the last two summers. They believed him, though they warned him about the insurance. He got his license, tossed a permit into the trash, and started driving to school. He felt like he was somebody, like Tommy Bracken mattered. Most kids his age didn't have a car, but Tommy? Tommy found the American Dream.
That feeling lasted a few days, and that was it.
One step on a mile high ladder, nine hundred and ninety-nine more to go. That was how Tommy felt after he drove too and from school for a week. In the end, he was still in a dying town, he just didn't have to walk everywhere. And it wasn't like anyone really cared. Where was he going? Home? Yeah, so were they. When a certain party rolled around a few months later, Tommy was surprised he even got an invitation. But he showed up all the same, grateful for the thin veneer of belonging that it brought. He didn't drink, he wasn't walking home and he wasn't about to let a few of them do the same after drinking trashy beers. He just hung back without a lot of socializing, occasionally showing off a sweet card trick people didn't know he could do.
Then the Pit opened its jaws wide open.
Tommy didn't really understand what was happening. One moment, someone was talking about a football game, and the next, the air was ripped in half. The ground was in two places at once, he was bleeding, and monsters were spilling in. Some guy whose name he didn't get was the cause of it, causing everyone to run in terror. Tommy had never felt that kind of terror, so potent that it made him dream of golden beasts in a city that never looked the same. Where most people stayed together and run in some semblance of a coherent group, Tommy was running into No Man's Land as if there were demons chasing after him. There was little time to question the golden trails of light weeping out of gashes in his skin like smoke, or the sounds of roaring that drowned out the screams. He was out like fly in the win.
His car was abandoned there by the warehouse. In the woods surrounding Cornell, he climbed into a tree and let his senses do what they would. He spent hours there, eventually calming down enough to feel a source of power coming off the deck of cards in his pocket. There was a warm knot of something in his chest, and he followed it like a thread. He saw visions of armies, coming together at the behest of people whose names he did not know. He saw them invoke names and weave strands of gold light into bestial shapes, summoning monsters. It was a lot to take in, but he figured something out in time.
He was a damn wizard, and he could conjure things like those visions.
When Tommy came out of the woods, back to other people who were getting their own bearings after the chaos, he was followed by monsters of his own making. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Abracadabra, alakazam, and so on and so forth."
TYPE ⫻ Adept
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Gold Lux, Tommy's Channeler is a deck of cards.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Tommy is a summoner who creates monstrous minions out of a mix of Gold Lux, the remains of other creatures, and sources of magic that he can get his hands on. These handcrafted summons are bound into the cards of his deck, and brought out when needed.
SIX OF HEARTS: RAPTOR ⫻ The first summon Tommy created was made out of his own wounds. A glowing bird made from a mix of blood and raw Lux, the Raptor attacks with sharp claws and impeccable agility. When it is given a target, it will swoop in and out of close range and make itself as hard to pin down as possible, taking long swipes to bleed them dry.
TEN OF CLUBS: PORTER ⫻ Using an old backpack as base materials, Porter is a four-legged pack mule no smaller than a bear. The woven creature resembles a mustelid, and its body unfurls at long seams. Porter can carry up to 150 pounds inside the pockets of its body before it starts to slow down. Anything stored within is transported to and from the Ten of Clubs when Porter is summoned or returned.
NINE OF SPADES: WATCHER ⫻ A mirror from a pickup truck and a lot of dead branches became a beast of glassy twine, reminiscent of a coyote. Watcher doesn't move much, preferring to meander around an area designated by Tommy. It is smart enough to remember faces and detect signs of trouble, and howls when alerted. The sound is loud, resonates with the Gold Lux coursing through its body, alerting Tommy no matter the distance.
LIMITS ⫻ Tommy is not the sort of Gold Adept who fires and forgets. His summons have personality, a distinctness to them that doesn't begin when tapped or end when retired. For him, the things he creates are lasting and permanent, not simply transient. As a consequence of this, Tommy lacks the ability to improvise on the spot. He requires time to come up with a new summon for his deck, and different materials to create something new. All of his summons are built off of a scaffolding, meaning to make anything particularly flashy, he needs another Adept, a monster he can gut for spare parts, or perhaps an object of magical importance.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Tommy’s summons are inherently linked to his body and life force, not solely his Lux. Damage to a summon reflects as physical injuries—reopened wounds, joint or muscle damage, or even cardiac shock or unconsciousness if destroyed violently. Even in victory, his body sustains damage, and repeated losses cause long-term injuries that don’t heal naturally. The deck functions as a physical part of the abstraction. Damaging a card harms its summon: burns cause instability, tears create missing or deformed parts, and stolen cards enable enemies to misuse or control his creations. Tampering or damaging the deck can cause summons to appear in the wrong order or be incomplete. If too many cards are compromised, his Gold Lux locks completely, preventing summoning to prevent death. Summons embody the emotional and conceptual essence of their materials. Trauma, resentment, or beliefs in source components influence behavior over time. Intelligent or meaningful sources can resist control or subtly sabotage him, and people connected to those sources can psychologically interfere with the summons. The stronger the source, the greater the long-term risk.
Raptor is powered by Tommy’s blood and pain. Each attack reopens wounds, and prolonged use causes internal bleeding and shock. Blood manipulation disrupts Raptor, and restraining him causes severe chest pain. Destroying Raptor results in the loss of a meaningful memory, and repeated losses diminish his capacity to form attachments. Porter has a limited carrying capacity. Exceeding it causes violent structural failure, destroying items metaphysically. Porter experiences what it holds, making volatile or living items dangerous. If immobilized, Tommy’s body mirrors its restraint and weight. If Porter is destroyed while loaded, he suffers serious spinal injuries. Watcher’s howl assaults Tommy’s nervous system. Repeated alerts cause migraines, vertigo, seizures, and dissociation. Reflective environments cause confusion, while silence or sound suppression triggers uncontrollable howling. Destroying Watcher causes a temporary loss of facial recognition.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Maybe I can conjure up a horse or something, when I run out of gas."
Tommy drives an old Mercury Cougar that used to collect dust in some old guy's garage.
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