Also interested! Hallo, delicious friends... :D
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Enterprise name: Luminary Industries
Leader name: Amelia Reinhardt
Enterprise bio: Little more than Amelia and two friends – and former employees – Luminary Industries is not, currently, very impressive. All three of its current employees and shareholder hail from Old Earth, engineers by training and former employment, involved in the construction and maintenance of the homeworld’s towering arcologies.
Amelia was the catalyst for the formation of the company venture; her choices were fairly stark back on Earth – marry a wealthy chinless wonder (and one who had no intention of putting up with her little peccadilloes, at that) or sell her assets and seek her fortune. With all the old certainties in flux thanks to the Federation’s coup, she seized her chance to escape into the black, with every intention of becoming rich and powerful enough to make anyone pause.
Not a fool by any stretch of the imagination, the glimmer that would become Luminary Industries sparked into existence when she came across Andrei Baltuška’s sample test results, rather than old spacer’s tales, and unlike the scientific oversight officers the man had laboured under, she at least had seen the glorious, glorious potential inherent in the stuff. And, admittedly, a potential way out of her own situation. After that, it was easy for her to convince a couple of friends to come onboard and thus, Luminary Industries was formed and formally incorporated, registered on the corporate tax haven of Luna with one Amelia Reinhardt as Chair of the Board and CEO.
Starting crew: 2
Start-up capital: Allow the GM to roll for your credits. I will multiply the initial 3,000 credits by a rolled number. This could give you many more starting credits, but it could also result in you starting with substantially fewer. Result: 4,110 credits
Starting location:
Amelia has picked a more northerly location, next to a deep natural harbour on the inland sea she privately calls the Bullseye, owing to the central island and its appearance from space. She knows that water is a vital resource, whether fresh or salt, and the central island of the sea could potentially provide a final redoubt.
Initial Requisitions:
1x Magnetic Trommel Separator (small) – 800 FC
2x Magnetic resonator (low sensitivity) – 900 FC
1x Inflatable Dome – 100 FC
1x Solar Recharge Station – 250 FC
3x Pneumatic Jackhammer – 150 FC
1x Hovercraft – 1,200 FC
1x Razorwire spool – 30 FC
4x Surveillance camera – 40 FC
1x Assault Rifle –120 FC
2x Extra Tickets – 500 FC
Total Cost: 4,090 FC
Remaining Funds: 20 FC
WIP until catalogue is finalized :) .
Will probably add a small bio for Amelia herself later :) .
Leader name: Amelia Reinhardt
Enterprise bio: Little more than Amelia and two friends – and former employees – Luminary Industries is not, currently, very impressive. All three of its current employees and shareholder hail from Old Earth, engineers by training and former employment, involved in the construction and maintenance of the homeworld’s towering arcologies.
Amelia was the catalyst for the formation of the company venture; her choices were fairly stark back on Earth – marry a wealthy chinless wonder (and one who had no intention of putting up with her little peccadilloes, at that) or sell her assets and seek her fortune. With all the old certainties in flux thanks to the Federation’s coup, she seized her chance to escape into the black, with every intention of becoming rich and powerful enough to make anyone pause.
Not a fool by any stretch of the imagination, the glimmer that would become Luminary Industries sparked into existence when she came across Andrei Baltuška’s sample test results, rather than old spacer’s tales, and unlike the scientific oversight officers the man had laboured under, she at least had seen the glorious, glorious potential inherent in the stuff. And, admittedly, a potential way out of her own situation. After that, it was easy for her to convince a couple of friends to come onboard and thus, Luminary Industries was formed and formally incorporated, registered on the corporate tax haven of Luna with one Amelia Reinhardt as Chair of the Board and CEO.
Starting crew: 2
Start-up capital: Allow the GM to roll for your credits. I will multiply the initial 3,000 credits by a rolled number. This could give you many more starting credits, but it could also result in you starting with substantially fewer. Result: 4,110 credits
Starting location:
Amelia has picked a more northerly location, next to a deep natural harbour on the inland sea she privately calls the Bullseye, owing to the central island and its appearance from space. She knows that water is a vital resource, whether fresh or salt, and the central island of the sea could potentially provide a final redoubt.
Initial Requisitions:
1x Magnetic Trommel Separator (small) – 800 FC
2x Magnetic resonator (low sensitivity) – 900 FC
1x Inflatable Dome – 100 FC
1x Solar Recharge Station – 250 FC
3x Pneumatic Jackhammer – 150 FC
1x Hovercraft – 1,200 FC
1x Razorwire spool – 30 FC
4x Surveillance camera – 40 FC
1x Assault Rifle –120 FC
2x Extra Tickets – 500 FC
Total Cost: 4,090 FC
Remaining Funds: 20 FC
WIP until catalogue is finalized :) .
Will probably add a small bio for Amelia herself later :) .
@gorgenmastHey, I'd rather you did something good than rushed it, so take the time you need :) . Can't wait to do some brainstorming, but a little extra info helps things along!
@Samdragonx Come, come, join the venture :) . Find new deposits of the Miracle Mineral(tm), connive and conspire against the Big Tritium megacorporations, and above all, become wealthier than Midas. You know you want to...
Interested :) . Can't wait to see where this goes :) .
Nothing stopping said Alraune trying anyway. Or with Maia. Or both :P .
The colour-drenched magnificence of the Neon Court in Mumbai vanished in a whirl of impossible light and burning darkness as Maia drew on her power. Warping reality came easily to her; she barely had to think about it, her mind seeing the twisting paths of possibility all around and dancing merrily down them, burning with silver light and skirting the catastrophe-curve of madness with the ease of long practice and innate talent.
The scent of spices, the sound of skirling instruments and the eternal festivities of the Court, the heat and humidity and the lingering liquid tones of her mother's goodbye were all instantly replaced with the sounds and smells of the sea and imminent rain as the portal dissipated around her and her luggage. It was a single small bag – at least, on the outside. The inside...now, that was a different story entirely, a dimensional regression with n mouths, easily big enough to hold everything she could require, and quite a bit else besides. Useful, but – as she'd discovered – painfully inimical to complex life. A stepping stone on the way to one of her goals, and a significant one at that, but only a stepping stone.
The world around her was a far cry from the gilded halls of her home: grey rock, blue sky, blue sea and a vicious chill curling in from the ocean, battering against the stout towers of the Academy itself. She arrived alone and subtle – skill lay in that unobtrusiveness, any novice could (and did) induce sheets of harmless flame, glowing specks of light in impossible colours, the deep-toned rumble of unseen bells and so on as the energies of their inefficient magic discharged in random but flashy ways.
Being alone was another perk; a long-distance teleport was always easier with just her, and there was little point in retainers and guards and hangers-on, supporting her non-existent dignity. Maia Eltharin was, here and now, a student mage. That her mother ruled the Neon Court with an iron fist in a velvet glove was merely another fact, not the defining point of her life. So ran her thinking, anyway, and, shouldering her bag with ease – the weight of its contents being another thing her magic laughed at – she took her first steps towards her future, moving with impeccable grace and a certain...alacrity. After the heat of India, the climate of the Irish Sea was cold, and inside her whispering silver raiment, Maia shivered as the chill wind struck gooseflesh from her arms, despite the furs, hurrying towards the Academy buildings and – hopefully – warmth.
Alas, such was not to be – her guide led her through a flowering garden, the air painted with the sweet scents of a hundred flowers, and she thought she felt the subtle artifice of heating and fertility enchantments worked into the soil and the planters both – but there was no time to inspect or excavate, the smiling flicker-life guide gently chivvying her onwards, towards a series of benches arrayed before a podium.
She sat amid a sea of flicker-life humans – although there was, at least, the occasional other immortal in the ranks – and tried not to shiver too noticeably. Maia had been spending most of her time in India for the better part of a year, after all, and had acclimatized to that sprawling, dynamic country's heat and humidity, even though she'd been born and mostly raised in the frequent mists and weeping rains of the British Isles, just a few miles away as the crow flew.
She knew of the headmaster by reputation, of course – most people did, in the post-War environment, probably even the isolationists in their few forest bolt-holes – and her mother had spoken of the man with respect, too, something accorded to very few humans. It would be wise, therefore, to pay attention. And to not get on his bad side. If she knew her mother, the Lady Neon would have sent gifts to the man to sweeten Maia's way in the Academy...but if she knew powerful mages, on the other hand – and Maia had seen a few in the Court's halls – then such things would not afford her a substantial indulgence.
Best to err on the side of caution, therefore. Being burned to cinders wasn't high on her to-do list.
The Rules – she capitalised them in the privacy of her own head – seemed fairly simple. Straightforward common sense, standard fare for a school, but – and this was the important part – backed up by the impressive sorcerous firepower of Headmaster Wick and his faculty. Arkangrad hadn't become the premier institution of magical learning by being mediocre, and to underestimate any professor, or any staff member in general, was likely to be massively unwise.
At the conclusion of his speech, something began to prickle Maia's skin. Squirming slightly, she managed to fish it out without giving everyone a free show and arched one perfect ice-blonde eyebrow in surprise as she read it. The Academy looked much larger than it would have needed to be to accommodate the student intake; she'd vaguely hoped, therefore, for a private room. Not to be squished in with three others – although squished was stretching it a bit, when one considered her specialty.
Her guide rematerialized at the end of the speeches, and was able to give her directions to her room. Simple and direct, her footsteps followed the path unerringly, drinking in the surroundings and ensuring she'd never have to walk there again. Oh, she could have teleported blind, based on a description, but that was risky, more energy-inefficient and, in a magical academy, who knew where she'd end up?
One journey wouldn't hurt.
In the event, the room was less awful than she'd first thought. It wasn't a dormitory, as such, just two bedrooms and a communal area, all done in a comfortable but bland institutional style. Maia could have been at any moderately well-heeled university in most of Western Europe, for all the character the rooms possessed.
Her room had been marked with a little star on the map so mysteriously – and uncomfortably – provided, and she made a beeline for its closed door, experimentally pushing at the doorhandle. It rattled and refused to budge.
Things were off to a flying start. Muttering a curse in Hindi, and not caring who heard it, in between the blinks of her eyes she teleported from this side of the door to that. The room she found herself in was considerably warmer, and she sighed in relief at the welcome heat, but most of her attention was taken up by the figure already present, busy next to one of the two beds that faced one another.
Presumably her roommate, who had perhaps wished for privacy just as much as Maia herself had wanted it. Hence why the door had been shut and locked. Oh well; too late to worry about that now. A tall girl – much taller than Maia, even with her vicious heels – with a tumbling cascade of jet black hair. And – was that fire? No – an illusion, surely. There was the smell of spice in the air, too, faint but definitely present, a pleasant perfume.
“Hallo there,” she said, putting her best foot forward, her voice the cut-glass and crystal tones of the achingly well-bred, honed and sharpened by a battery of tutors and the decadent maelstrom of her home. “Maia. How d'you do? It seems we're to be room-mates.” She cast an eye over the half-decorated chamber, and remarked with a mild smile: “Interesting décor.”
The scent of spices, the sound of skirling instruments and the eternal festivities of the Court, the heat and humidity and the lingering liquid tones of her mother's goodbye were all instantly replaced with the sounds and smells of the sea and imminent rain as the portal dissipated around her and her luggage. It was a single small bag – at least, on the outside. The inside...now, that was a different story entirely, a dimensional regression with n mouths, easily big enough to hold everything she could require, and quite a bit else besides. Useful, but – as she'd discovered – painfully inimical to complex life. A stepping stone on the way to one of her goals, and a significant one at that, but only a stepping stone.
The world around her was a far cry from the gilded halls of her home: grey rock, blue sky, blue sea and a vicious chill curling in from the ocean, battering against the stout towers of the Academy itself. She arrived alone and subtle – skill lay in that unobtrusiveness, any novice could (and did) induce sheets of harmless flame, glowing specks of light in impossible colours, the deep-toned rumble of unseen bells and so on as the energies of their inefficient magic discharged in random but flashy ways.
Being alone was another perk; a long-distance teleport was always easier with just her, and there was little point in retainers and guards and hangers-on, supporting her non-existent dignity. Maia Eltharin was, here and now, a student mage. That her mother ruled the Neon Court with an iron fist in a velvet glove was merely another fact, not the defining point of her life. So ran her thinking, anyway, and, shouldering her bag with ease – the weight of its contents being another thing her magic laughed at – she took her first steps towards her future, moving with impeccable grace and a certain...alacrity. After the heat of India, the climate of the Irish Sea was cold, and inside her whispering silver raiment, Maia shivered as the chill wind struck gooseflesh from her arms, despite the furs, hurrying towards the Academy buildings and – hopefully – warmth.
Alas, such was not to be – her guide led her through a flowering garden, the air painted with the sweet scents of a hundred flowers, and she thought she felt the subtle artifice of heating and fertility enchantments worked into the soil and the planters both – but there was no time to inspect or excavate, the smiling flicker-life guide gently chivvying her onwards, towards a series of benches arrayed before a podium.
She sat amid a sea of flicker-life humans – although there was, at least, the occasional other immortal in the ranks – and tried not to shiver too noticeably. Maia had been spending most of her time in India for the better part of a year, after all, and had acclimatized to that sprawling, dynamic country's heat and humidity, even though she'd been born and mostly raised in the frequent mists and weeping rains of the British Isles, just a few miles away as the crow flew.
She knew of the headmaster by reputation, of course – most people did, in the post-War environment, probably even the isolationists in their few forest bolt-holes – and her mother had spoken of the man with respect, too, something accorded to very few humans. It would be wise, therefore, to pay attention. And to not get on his bad side. If she knew her mother, the Lady Neon would have sent gifts to the man to sweeten Maia's way in the Academy...but if she knew powerful mages, on the other hand – and Maia had seen a few in the Court's halls – then such things would not afford her a substantial indulgence.
Best to err on the side of caution, therefore. Being burned to cinders wasn't high on her to-do list.
The Rules – she capitalised them in the privacy of her own head – seemed fairly simple. Straightforward common sense, standard fare for a school, but – and this was the important part – backed up by the impressive sorcerous firepower of Headmaster Wick and his faculty. Arkangrad hadn't become the premier institution of magical learning by being mediocre, and to underestimate any professor, or any staff member in general, was likely to be massively unwise.
At the conclusion of his speech, something began to prickle Maia's skin. Squirming slightly, she managed to fish it out without giving everyone a free show and arched one perfect ice-blonde eyebrow in surprise as she read it. The Academy looked much larger than it would have needed to be to accommodate the student intake; she'd vaguely hoped, therefore, for a private room. Not to be squished in with three others – although squished was stretching it a bit, when one considered her specialty.
Her guide rematerialized at the end of the speeches, and was able to give her directions to her room. Simple and direct, her footsteps followed the path unerringly, drinking in the surroundings and ensuring she'd never have to walk there again. Oh, she could have teleported blind, based on a description, but that was risky, more energy-inefficient and, in a magical academy, who knew where she'd end up?
One journey wouldn't hurt.
In the event, the room was less awful than she'd first thought. It wasn't a dormitory, as such, just two bedrooms and a communal area, all done in a comfortable but bland institutional style. Maia could have been at any moderately well-heeled university in most of Western Europe, for all the character the rooms possessed.
Her room had been marked with a little star on the map so mysteriously – and uncomfortably – provided, and she made a beeline for its closed door, experimentally pushing at the doorhandle. It rattled and refused to budge.
Things were off to a flying start. Muttering a curse in Hindi, and not caring who heard it, in between the blinks of her eyes she teleported from this side of the door to that. The room she found herself in was considerably warmer, and she sighed in relief at the welcome heat, but most of her attention was taken up by the figure already present, busy next to one of the two beds that faced one another.
Presumably her roommate, who had perhaps wished for privacy just as much as Maia herself had wanted it. Hence why the door had been shut and locked. Oh well; too late to worry about that now. A tall girl – much taller than Maia, even with her vicious heels – with a tumbling cascade of jet black hair. And – was that fire? No – an illusion, surely. There was the smell of spice in the air, too, faint but definitely present, a pleasant perfume.
“Hallo there,” she said, putting her best foot forward, her voice the cut-glass and crystal tones of the achingly well-bred, honed and sharpened by a battery of tutors and the decadent maelstrom of her home. “Maia. How d'you do? It seems we're to be room-mates.” She cast an eye over the half-decorated chamber, and remarked with a mild smile: “Interesting décor.”
Will do, thank you! I chose that picture more for the face, to be honest - I'd have preferred a closed bodice, at the least :P .
Name: Maia Eltharin
Race: Elf
Gender: Female
Appearance: Naturally blessed with the fine features and heart-aching good looks of the elves in general, Maia has honed them to the modern pinnacle of beauty. Flawless skin, spectacular cheekbones set in a heart-shaped face, curves in all the right places and sardonic green eyes dancing with mischief, her appearance is a not-inconsiderable weapon. She is, for all her elegance, somewhat short, standing at five foot three, and – perhaps as a consequence – is almost never seen without a pair of vicious heels, moving with an ease and elven grace many envy.
Flesh, fur, silver and silk – these are the things that come to mind when contemplating Maia's preferred wardrobe. Pale to the point of bloodlessness, even for an elf, she has embraced the icy good looks nature's palette provided and, with the aid of modern cosmetics, a dash of magic and the best tailors around, enhanced it even further. Artfully draped, close to skin-tight, dancing with intricate silver embroidery, her clothes are glitteringly intricate and draw the eye from far and near.
Magic:
Spatial: 16 – A prodigy in the field, Maia has always had a knack for spatial magics far beyond any usual affinity. Complex spatial dynamics, space-time continuum modelling, esoteric n-space interactions between intersecting metaspace branes...all of it so much meat and drink to her hungry mind.
Mana: 6
Lightning: 4 – Useful for artifice, and also less catastrophically lethal than the Molecular Mincer, Maia finds it very suitable, along with its other purposes, for discouraging wandering hands.
Earth: 3 – Maia dreams of silver swords and golden machines dancing to her tune. Alas, reality at this point is struggle and concentration to manifest even a clump of dirty iron, and her stonework has a tendency to fall apart into fine silver sand unless her focus is absolute.
Mental: 1 – Despite the best efforts of her mother and the rest of the Neon Court, Maia steadfastly remains a complete novice in the arts of glamour and illusion so favoured by her peers. It's not exactly that she has no ability, as per se, more a staggering lack of interest. All her lessons and education have managed to instil is a basic, rudimentary sense of when illusions and glamour are being worked on her.
Technique:
Queen of Gates:- Maia loves to teleport, ripping open the fabric of reality as easily as breathing. She rarely actually walks anywhere unless she has to. For her, eased by her skill and talent in the field, lunch involves a quick trip to Italy, and getting a snack means paying a visit to a patisserie in Nouveau Paris for her favourite macaroons. She has an impressive range for each jump, but as the distance increases the time and focus she needs also rises exponentially. A mile or less, and it's almost instant, the span of a couple of breaths, but hundreds of miles in a single leap needs far, far longer in perfect concentration, undisturbed lest the backlash twist her and her surroundings, usually in ways inimical to health and life.
Molecular Mincer:- Always keen to experiment and innovate, Maia's Molecular Mincer sends forth a shimmering network of ribbon-portals, hair-thin and effortlessly slicing through almost anything in their way. She adapted it from a spell in a cookbook.
Magesmith:- Still very much a novice in the complex field of enchantment and automation, Maia still enjoys it almost as much as she does the space-twisting complexity of her favoured school. Incapable of making much more than trinkets at present, she's keenly anticipating making more complex devices to do even more with magic.
Electromancer:- Able to work with weak flows of electricity and to direct more minor sparks and shocks, lightning magic is a recent interest of Maia's, mostly for its synergy with the more complex forms of artifacts and machines both mundane and arcane.
Skills:
Bonjour, monseiur, madame et neutre...:- Maia is naturally fluent in French and almost as at home in Nouveau Paris as she is in London.
Lady of the Dance:- Maia's childhood upbringing included dance, etiquette and deportment along with everything else. Of them, dance is one of the few she's kept and enjoys.
Bon viveur:- Used to the finer things in life, Maia knows the value of such things and, critically, where to find them. It is a rare moment indeed to find her without fine wine and good food, and still rarer to find her without at least a route to such things.
Bio: Extremely young by the standards of the elves, Maia is a scion of the Neon Court. Founded by her mother in the wake of the War, with all the old sanctuaries split open by warring gods and mages, the Neon Court took to the cities and the limelight both, revelling in the adoration of the human masses and turning that into money and power. From its capital base in London, the Court's reach is long; it has a presence in most major cities, from the streets of Nouveau Paris to the skyscrapers of Tokyo to the thrumming bazaars of Mumbai.
The elegant, sophisticated elves of the Neon Court have changed with the times. No longer as in-tune with the rhythms of the earth as their isolationist counterparts, they have instead found different callings. From glittering socialites to the most in-demand courtesans, from the finest modern arcano-chemists and their delightfully narcotic concoctions to the most captivating dancers, the Neon Court's elves are masters of their craft. Better than you will ever be, more beautiful than you will ever be, more powerful than you will ever be, is the silken whisper of the colour-drenched Court. Come dance with us and be a part of it, even for a moment.
Maia's mother is the Lady Neon, the queenpin of the Court. A past master of mental magic, her glamours and illusions were turned to protection and defence in the dark days of the War, and in the immediate turbulent aftermath they twisted the mortals of London to adoration rather than fear. These days, her powers enrich the halls of the Neon Court to a splendour undreamt-of even by emperors.
Maia herself, though, seems cut from a rather different cloth. Despite all the efforts of her mother and a legion of Court mages both, she remains steadfastly indifferent to the mental magic that is the Court's greatest strength, preferring instead to talk to the artisans and crafters who maintain the Court's homes and weapons. Acutely sensitive to space, keenly intrigued by the building blocks of magic, constantly tinkering with one device or another, whether mundane or arcane, she is an oddity in the colour-drenched halls of the city elves.
This is perhaps why she's been sent to Arkangrad – partly to fly the flag of the Neon Court, partly for its prestige and the education it offers, but mostly for want of anything better to do with her.
Race: Elf
Gender: Female
Appearance: Naturally blessed with the fine features and heart-aching good looks of the elves in general, Maia has honed them to the modern pinnacle of beauty. Flawless skin, spectacular cheekbones set in a heart-shaped face, curves in all the right places and sardonic green eyes dancing with mischief, her appearance is a not-inconsiderable weapon. She is, for all her elegance, somewhat short, standing at five foot three, and – perhaps as a consequence – is almost never seen without a pair of vicious heels, moving with an ease and elven grace many envy.
Flesh, fur, silver and silk – these are the things that come to mind when contemplating Maia's preferred wardrobe. Pale to the point of bloodlessness, even for an elf, she has embraced the icy good looks nature's palette provided and, with the aid of modern cosmetics, a dash of magic and the best tailors around, enhanced it even further. Artfully draped, close to skin-tight, dancing with intricate silver embroidery, her clothes are glitteringly intricate and draw the eye from far and near.
Magic:
Spatial: 16 – A prodigy in the field, Maia has always had a knack for spatial magics far beyond any usual affinity. Complex spatial dynamics, space-time continuum modelling, esoteric n-space interactions between intersecting metaspace branes...all of it so much meat and drink to her hungry mind.
Mana: 6
Lightning: 4 – Useful for artifice, and also less catastrophically lethal than the Molecular Mincer, Maia finds it very suitable, along with its other purposes, for discouraging wandering hands.
Earth: 3 – Maia dreams of silver swords and golden machines dancing to her tune. Alas, reality at this point is struggle and concentration to manifest even a clump of dirty iron, and her stonework has a tendency to fall apart into fine silver sand unless her focus is absolute.
Mental: 1 – Despite the best efforts of her mother and the rest of the Neon Court, Maia steadfastly remains a complete novice in the arts of glamour and illusion so favoured by her peers. It's not exactly that she has no ability, as per se, more a staggering lack of interest. All her lessons and education have managed to instil is a basic, rudimentary sense of when illusions and glamour are being worked on her.
Technique:
Queen of Gates:- Maia loves to teleport, ripping open the fabric of reality as easily as breathing. She rarely actually walks anywhere unless she has to. For her, eased by her skill and talent in the field, lunch involves a quick trip to Italy, and getting a snack means paying a visit to a patisserie in Nouveau Paris for her favourite macaroons. She has an impressive range for each jump, but as the distance increases the time and focus she needs also rises exponentially. A mile or less, and it's almost instant, the span of a couple of breaths, but hundreds of miles in a single leap needs far, far longer in perfect concentration, undisturbed lest the backlash twist her and her surroundings, usually in ways inimical to health and life.
Molecular Mincer:- Always keen to experiment and innovate, Maia's Molecular Mincer sends forth a shimmering network of ribbon-portals, hair-thin and effortlessly slicing through almost anything in their way. She adapted it from a spell in a cookbook.
Magesmith:- Still very much a novice in the complex field of enchantment and automation, Maia still enjoys it almost as much as she does the space-twisting complexity of her favoured school. Incapable of making much more than trinkets at present, she's keenly anticipating making more complex devices to do even more with magic.
Electromancer:- Able to work with weak flows of electricity and to direct more minor sparks and shocks, lightning magic is a recent interest of Maia's, mostly for its synergy with the more complex forms of artifacts and machines both mundane and arcane.
Skills:
Bonjour, monseiur, madame et neutre...:- Maia is naturally fluent in French and almost as at home in Nouveau Paris as she is in London.
Lady of the Dance:- Maia's childhood upbringing included dance, etiquette and deportment along with everything else. Of them, dance is one of the few she's kept and enjoys.
Bon viveur:- Used to the finer things in life, Maia knows the value of such things and, critically, where to find them. It is a rare moment indeed to find her without fine wine and good food, and still rarer to find her without at least a route to such things.
Bio: Extremely young by the standards of the elves, Maia is a scion of the Neon Court. Founded by her mother in the wake of the War, with all the old sanctuaries split open by warring gods and mages, the Neon Court took to the cities and the limelight both, revelling in the adoration of the human masses and turning that into money and power. From its capital base in London, the Court's reach is long; it has a presence in most major cities, from the streets of Nouveau Paris to the skyscrapers of Tokyo to the thrumming bazaars of Mumbai.
The elegant, sophisticated elves of the Neon Court have changed with the times. No longer as in-tune with the rhythms of the earth as their isolationist counterparts, they have instead found different callings. From glittering socialites to the most in-demand courtesans, from the finest modern arcano-chemists and their delightfully narcotic concoctions to the most captivating dancers, the Neon Court's elves are masters of their craft. Better than you will ever be, more beautiful than you will ever be, more powerful than you will ever be, is the silken whisper of the colour-drenched Court. Come dance with us and be a part of it, even for a moment.
Maia's mother is the Lady Neon, the queenpin of the Court. A past master of mental magic, her glamours and illusions were turned to protection and defence in the dark days of the War, and in the immediate turbulent aftermath they twisted the mortals of London to adoration rather than fear. These days, her powers enrich the halls of the Neon Court to a splendour undreamt-of even by emperors.
Maia herself, though, seems cut from a rather different cloth. Despite all the efforts of her mother and a legion of Court mages both, she remains steadfastly indifferent to the mental magic that is the Court's greatest strength, preferring instead to talk to the artisans and crafters who maintain the Court's homes and weapons. Acutely sensitive to space, keenly intrigued by the building blocks of magic, constantly tinkering with one device or another, whether mundane or arcane, she is an oddity in the colour-drenched halls of the city elves.
This is perhaps why she's been sent to Arkangrad – partly to fly the flag of the Neon Court, partly for its prestige and the education it offers, but mostly for want of anything better to do with her.
@neogreggoryI've made a couple of changes; taken a couple of points off each of Maia's other schools and so on :) . If you have any particular concerns, do let me know - I shan't be offended :) .
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