Fetzen

The Sunday Group

No subtle frenchmen hints here

Name: Fynn Laplace

Age: 31

Appearance: Fynn reaches up to a not exactly imposing 5'9 and presents himself having a rather average, albeit slightly overweight frame. More than shoulder-long, blone and wavy hair and a quite large goatee surround a rather innocent looking face with thin lips and a mildly pointed nose. His skin is fair and clearly indicative of him spending much more time indoors than outdoors, so is the fact that he's anything but overly muscular. There's a long scar running alone his left shin, but that's probably simply because the latter had been seriously broken once.

Concept: Computer nerd capable of both compensating for his lack of physical exercise and boosting his authority against lazy users never changing their passwords by turning into an entirely different, demonic beast.

Powers/skills: Fynn has grown up surrounded by people making their money with electronics, but today however electronics more often than not also involve software. Software is what he knows pretty well indeed and far beyond fixing somebody's Microsoft Word templates. Give him some proper equipment and he might try and work around matters of security or encryption the group's suspects might throw at them. He, after all, has also learned a knack about manipulating modern technology by means of magic from his family, and happens to be infused with demonic magic since birth.

Still there are the good old methods of just blasting through a locked door and he's got something for that, too. He can decide to let go of his inner discipline and let his inherent instability rage freely, pushing him away from being an ordinary human in a bodily manner as well. He then becomes a beast that's of the same height, but certainly in an entirely different class in terms of raw strength, durability and weight. He's then much more suited to those occasions when talking and silent intrusion just don't cut it, but also much more prone to engage in acts of violence he might regret later on or which are flat-out overdoing it. And it's not like there'd be that simple off switch he or anyone else can just push, just like he can't commit to this modus operandi in an instant. Psychological pressure and other means of stress certainly help a lot with that, though.

Quirks: He really hates guns, not so much because of their purpose but because they're just awfully loud. Also, as long as he is his human self, he can safely be considered a bit of a coward. And a coffee addict...

Background:
Electhereal Semiconductor's Corp. is a small fish in the lake of Silicon Valley, but being one of the more successful ones it has proven to be a steadily growing pond of money for Kaylen's parents to swim in. They are a duo of people who have just found other sharing the same interests and approach to life in general, a pair of scientifically aligned graduates who gives the world what it craves for: highly integrated circuits that consume ever less power when doing ever more stuff in gadgets only capitalism can invent. What they don't do however is tell the same world the truth about 'conventional science' not having been advanced enough for setting up such a magnificent little factory, hence the name 'Electhereal'. It is basically a broad, mocking hint which they perfectly know the vast majority of their customers will happily mistake for yet another strange marketing effort.

Kaylen was pretty much 'doomed' to take over the family business one day, though neither was such a plan against his own interest at any point nor had he much of an issue with the tremendous amount of effort that would require. However even an enrollment at Caltech couldn't protect him from the... more mundane desires... one might occasionally stumble upon in life. Agreed, Rebecca just was a very attractive girl. Up to this day, Kaylen's parents accuse themselves of not having seen the obvious red flags earlier, but then it took only a single night in a shared bed to make it happen.

Fynn was born -- and his mother was a succubus.

There would have been plenty of ways to dispose of him, if not for Kaylen himself then for his rich parents who would certainly have had the means necessary to bribe their way through the official part of law enforcement. But why should they have done this? Their whole income was partly based on the unique properties of the supernatural, so while they certainly scolded Kaylen for his escapade, they also sort of accepted the living outcome. Like said... sort of. He was the unexpected child, the unstable element to be more closely monitored. It was a delicate balance between 'since none of our business partners and most of our friends don't believe in the supernatural anyway, they'll never interpret his occasional oddity correctly' and 'there are those who will know what he truly is in an instant, and they could have the means to transform that kind of information into a scandal even the non-believers will happily exploit'. Things have not always been easy, but it would be wrong to say he wasn't loved.

With that kind of conflict in mind, the Sunday group was just the perfect job offering. Fynn saw it as an opportunity for joining an environment where the paranormal was the norm and where he could put himself to good use while also earning honest money. His environment saw it as an opportunity to defuse the whole situation a bit by putting him in a place where he can be much more what he really is and not always has to pretend to be your ordinary human.

The question is of course whether the Sunday Group will see it the same way in the future.

Things your character wants to happen (probably won't):

• Not being considered the complete nerd and boring indoor person he quite probably actually is.
• His other self wants to go completely crazy in the open. Think about all those panicking newspapers and breaking news about a demon roaming freely!

Things you as a writer want to happen (maybe will):

• Some serious action
• Intrigue
• Not opposed to spontaneous comedy either here and there

Writing sample: Does the sheet itself count as a writing sample, too ? :)

The Sunday Group

Will make final decisions on characters in a day or two in order to give the last few interested parties a chance.

@Penny

I'm crawling my way back to the beginning of my queue and hope to be able to get something done until the deadline.

O R I F L A M M E

Event: Defense of Relouse
Location: The Witchwood

Those trees were tall, but still this did not feel like the kind of forest he'd liked to live in even without a horde of Eskandr strolling within their boundaries. Too close to the shoreline where storms and floods could come in and too close to a vast city that could spew out a significant stream of 'visitors' in the morning only to consume it in the evening and regurgigate it the next morning again. In short: No place to have one's peace.

Still, the primary reason for Otios to haul his large figure onto Sakar and guide his horse towards the Witchwood's edge the fastest he could still were the Eskandr. The tree was perfect as a hideout, but it really didn't take a genius to realize that it also was a death trap once surrounded by the enemy. His hands hurt a little from the very quick descent along the wire and wrapping it up again in a hurry, but his mind was focused on very different things right now: Where to set up a new, effective trap in what unknown, but most likely small amount of time he had left ? One had to alter methods from time to time or otherwise the enemy would learn to adapt!

That was when he heard the call. A signal clearly asking for immediate assistance. But why ? It was only moments later when he saw it: A golden figure moving at a disturbing speed. He decides to go for something travelling even faster: a lightning bold aimed directly at Horik! However, albeit the bolt itself technically travelled at speeds well beyond the realm of anything a large object of matter could achieve, it still was something needing preparation and aim. Otios could see his enemy throw himself to the side in what looked like a basic and desperate, but somewhat successful dodge. The man even had time to respond to.... goat jokes ?

Or were Horik's words just a means of distraction from his real response, a string wave of force magic hurtling towards the two Yasoi. Otios could hardly see what his female comrade was doing about it, but he himself jumped out of the saddle and threw himself down into the tall grass in order to make a much less exposed target out of himself. Sakar raced off and left Otios behind a bit sore from both the jump and what bit of the shockwave had still hit him.

The Yasoi notices that something seems a bit off. Almost as if... being drunk ? But that can't be! He had jumped off horses before and this ground was not the hardest one, so why should his head mess up after this fall now ? The only conclusion left possible is that their common foe was actually even more dangerous than he just looks and moves around like, so he decides to shout out towards Lyen to give her a warning, even if that would betray his position. He could her her doing some stuff from higher up in the nearby trees and shakes his head, trying to figure out the rapidly developing situation.

Otios could see their enemy higher up on the tree now, too, and albeit it makes his Yasoi heart hurt a little bit, he decides to use the big plant as a means of generating more projectiles. He gives the tree an electric blast in an attempt to either hit Horik directly, hit some wood that will shatter and hit him, or maybe cut down the whole tree while Horik is on top of it. Yet he found his electric energy rerouted into a nearby branch, leaving much less to do any actual damage.

Given the sound of branches cracking and leaves being brushed aside it seemed that the long haired Eskandr had decided that two Yasoi were just a bit too much for him. Excellent! However, just as Otios' face had reshaped itself into an impish smile unintentionally, his mind got all reason to revert that kind of action immediately. The shape Horik pretty much bumped into in his flight was just quite a tad too imposing and dangerous looking to do otherwise. That... was not a guy on the Parrench side of things, right ? And Lyen was heading directly towards him in her attempt to finish off the other man.

He saw the chaos unfolding, Lyen in grave danger, and didn't want to believe his eyes: Why did this unidentified monstrosity of a man have to show up ? Yet running away was not really an option, was it ? So, trying to both hurt and help at the same time, Otios used his magic to magnetize the metallic parts of Horik's equipment. The man wanted flight and speed ? That's what he shall have! Getting sucked in right towards and preferably into the hulking beast named Kol. However it seemed that Horik was capable of the art of rerouting indeed, this time doing it to himself instead of another lightning bold. Destination: Otios!

Close to panic, the Yasoi raised his two silver staffs and induces some high voltage into them, trying to put up both a mechanical blockade and a stimulating surprise. It worked, at least sufficently to apparently hurt Horik and save his own body from significant injury. It seemed it didn't bother Horik much either as he went immediately after Lyen again, leaving Otios ready as a target for Kol who now jumped at him in a quite obvious attempt to just crush the Yasoi to death. Little did the hulking Eskandr seem to understand of what he couldn't see: the invisible workings of electricity and magnetism and them mutually influencing each other. A quickly erected, strong magnetic field induced eddy currents to dissipate Kol's kinetic energy and it worked, converting his own attacking potential essentially into potential for discomfort by means of his armor heating up.

Otios practically didn't know just what was... coming out of Kol's mouth ? He just instantly knew it looked dangerous! The only humble chance he saw in order to evade what Kol called the 'Rage of Wyverns' was to do a somersault out of harms way. At this point he was deep enough in shock to even miss the opportunity to think about impending death. He felt like remote controlled by another part of his mind he couldn't influence, the one that was driven by just one directive: survival.

Hair did not count as an essential for survival however it seemed, at least his mind didn't care about it burning away and filling his nose with the ghastly smell. Why was he even noticing that anymore ? Only when craning his neck to lift his eyes out of the dirt he saw the sudden storm of unknown origin blowing away enough of the fiery harm to save his skin.

The good point ? He was still alive! The bad point ? His hair looked fairly... gone. Just gone. Not so much the ugly smell of it having been burned however. Oh how Otios hated this! As far as he could see now Lady Talit herself was engaging Kol with a devastating looking attack. Had she also caused the storm that had just saved his life ? Quite likely. The attack was apparently enough to trigger the hulking beast named Kol to call for Horik's assistance, so he needed to assist Lady Talit!

Otios moved his hands, weaved a stream of ionized gas -- commony called plasma --, and erected sort of a magnetic containment around it he'd use to both stabilize and move the superheated, electrified projectile on its way towards damned Horik. Alone... it failed again! Horik, busy skulking after the injured Lyen, was rudely interrupted by Otios' deadly spear of plasma shooting for his head. Tearing a tree trunk from the ground, he whipped it into the way of the projectile and it fairly exploded into blackened splinters, showering the area. Looking to immediately take advantage, he followed Kol's directive and hurled these at Lady Talit.

The woman's response was so powerful and violent that it knocked Otios right off his feet and down into the dirt again before he had any chance to react. He really needed to talk about manners later on! That was... assuming they'd both survive the battle, of course. It really wasn't looking good and at this point Otios had lost any idea about where Lyen was and what she was doing...

Otios was on the ground and had no intention of making himself a larger target again by raising to his full height. Instead, he remembered something he had almost forgotten about: Sakar, his horse! Was it still around ? He let go of a whistle, hoping that the animal hadn't fled the scene already and would dare to come just a bit closer so he wouldn't have to crawl over the muddy, overgrown ground for so long. At least he could also hope to be more sneaky this way, right until he'd -- hopefully --, encounter his horse and could mount it. A charge right at Horik it was, and just to make it faster Otios did what he otherwise really didn't like to do and gave his mount a gentle prod by means of his silver staff, including some electric stimulus. What was he even doing ? Desperation ? Probably, yes. There was no other means to really justify it. Trample the man, hoping he was occupied with other things, since everything else didn't work out.

The sound of flesh being torn and bones being cracked beneath the weight of horse and rider was awful to hear, but Otios had too much adrenaline to even feel the kind of remorse of have second thoughts about his actions like he had up in the tree. Did every ordinary soldier feel that way ? Probably. And if that was the case, war had to be an even more cruel thing than he had imagined so far. Hordes of people too enraged and blindfolded by their own system to just calm down again, thereby rendered to be even more obedient servants to whomever was interested in the bloodshed.

On his turn around, Otios sees Horik badly injured on the ground. Another pass with the horse would definitely finish him off, but Otios couldn't really believe that this daredevil approach had actually succeeded and did believe in less so in it succeeding a second time. Not with Kol and Talit around who were doing their best to turn the whole area into a hostile environment of their own. So, instead, he sent another lightning strike flying. A direct hit that fried whatever part of Horik's nervous system was still functional.

And then the one thing he had not expected: A giant explosion!

Hider

Summary:
- Otios survives, albeit somewhat hurt
- Horik joins the Visitor's table with one hell of a bang

The Sunday Group

To make a sexy young mage or an odious dwarf that only speaks in old futhark...

@POOHEAD189

Are you absolutely sure that these two mutually exclude each other ? Just trying to save you from a dilemma ;-)

Paranormal Detectives

This needs more frenchmen.

The Five Senses

Týfurkh

---

Týfurkh found himself a bit surprised about his own explosion. It was by far not the first time he had created something of this magnitude of course, but most of the times it had been in the controlled environment of a training ground and of those few occasions of actual hostility remaining, most had taken place in some kind of more open space. This was a very confined environment with solid walls however, perfect for air pressure not to be lost until it was finally dissipated by other effects.

'Other effects', in this case that included some serious destruction among the seed's various body parts if one dared to call them such. However it also put him on the top of the seed's priority list and who knows where and in which state he'd have been now without Chres' heat construct around him. Frantically, his eyes scanned for where it would give way first and which looked like some sort of escape route. To make matters worse it also seemed the negative effects of his explosion would not last for that long at all.

Týfurkh positioned himself closer to the walls of the heat construct and waited for it to shatter with his legs already in the proper starting position for a sprint. As it collapsed he finally could, and absolutely had to, escape and make a run for the center of the room -- the pit.

It's contents only revealed themself to his eyesight again as he jumped into it, his boots crashing into the dead bodies he had previously assumed to be some sort of food for the seed. The tentacles ? Probably right behind him, at least if they could make such sharp bends backwards towards their own origin and if the seed dared to use them with such violence in such close proximity to itself. Týfurkh could not afford spending moments on things happening behind his back however for one of the hearts was in front of him. It was a crossbow shot through the gaps between the bones protecting it, a projectile coming in from less then a yard away so aiming was pretty much unnecessary.

Týfurkh did not know how the seed would react. Would that actually help slow down the tendrils and their rapid regeneration, or would they come to haunt him now that he no longer had a heat construct around him, but was standing in a pit he had to climb out again first in order to regain full mobility ?

O R I F L A M M E

'The Witchwood'! From a Yasoi's perspective, this name was a bit of an offense in itself. No tree, at any point in his life, had done anything that would have justified this kind of a designation with so much negative connotation. It were the people of this world who did malicious things, not nature itself, so the name's origin probably was some kind of evil event of very artificial cause -- or just mere superstition as so often with those humans.

What would these woods be called decades or even centuries from now, assuming Parrench victory and his own humble part in it ? 'Thunderwoods' maybe ? Or, to keep things a little more fancy, 'The sparkling forest ?'. Spark in the sense of something large and hot enough to hurt somebody and put fire to his or her property and not in the sense of a harmless piece of fireworks, of course. A nice question to ponder about halfway drunk in a tavern once things had happened here, but what if those barbarians would win this battle instead ? Then maybe the Witchwoods would just cease to exist and be consumed by the need to rebuild an entire kingdom their way. A very sobering possibility.

The sound of heavy boots trampling down the foliage below forced Otios out of his thoughts. The Yasoi would not have positioned himself here had he not expected that at least a diversionary attack would make its way through here, but what his ears picked up now was significantly more discomforting than that. Either these people couldn't march or this was a horde! The place would be crawling...

Officially, Otios would have called it 'foresight', but deep inside he knew that it was more the small bit of chill running up and down his guts that made him retreat deeper into the extensive treetop high above everyone's head. He had deemed this to be a much safer place than being on the ground, even with a horse, but that would no longer hold true once being surrounded and behind the frontline so quickly. At least Lady Talit left out those branches he was standing on when bending so many others to signal something! A bit inefficient, was it ?

Otios tightened his grip around a wire than ran down the whole length of the trunk and ended in a solid pole rammed into the ground next to it. This effectively was his fastest means to get off this hideout aside from a suicidal jump, but it also served the double purpose of connecting him to the earth those Eskandr were marching on. What kind of connection ? Those fools would not understand! If not for the lack of intelligence, then for the lack of time to think! Otios still highly preferred for it to go unnoticed in the first place, so he was not hesitant to get going once he spotted the first small band of Eskandr warriors happening to walk by relatively close to his tree.

Clank!

Clank! Clank! Clank!

Argh!

Really! Magnetism could spread like a disease within and among items of iron or mild steel -- and he was in control of the germ. While in the process of the metal parts of their armors and weapons being tethered together by an invisible force, one of the men's battle axes had been set upon a collision course with a helmet and had only found deceleration once inside the wearer's face. Another individual who had not been part initially was startled by the unexpected moves of his comrades and tried to help, but only got sucked into and attached to the crowd as well.

The crowd, that was the involuntary aggregation of Eskandr warriors who could neither escape individually nor move together anymore. It would have been enough of a challenge in calm conditions to try and coordinate a dozen feet or more, all facing into different directions, to move synchronously and in a manner suited for going into one distinct direction instead of jittering around randomly. This however wasa bunch of people rapidly descending into a state of panic and stuck in an increasingly loud environment, last but not least due to their own shouting.

Could humans not solve their conflicts this way ? Just set up one group of men glued together as tightly as possible for each side and then let them do a race along a fixed route. First group to reach the destination would win and maybe some intoxication would make this even more fun for the public ? Like... was it even realistically possible for a bunch of drunkards to topple over and fall to the ground collectively, or would there always be enough resistance from some to keep going ?

Unfortunately, it was far too late for that already, even assuming that anybody would have been willing to listen to his suggestions in the first place. So Otios had to make a decisive move himself now and hated it no matter how much he had seen it coming. Just agreeing to participate in this mess for the sake of the future of one's own kind was one thing with a big comfort zone of abstraction around it, but actually being in it now felt so much like another. Far below him, the core of the small crowd started collapsing as the ribs of the man standing in the middle caved in under the pressure enacted by his comrades.

Even more unfortunately, this actually lowered the pressure and stopped the process from just continuing on its own. So, yes, he'd have to do the rest. The Yasoi launched his attack and dropped the other wire into the crowd below. He just knew that guiding a current through metal instead of just brute forcing it through bare air was far less straining and also did not create a brilliant flash of light that would betray his position quicker than any dangling wire could.

Or was it still dangling ? Not really. The end not in Otios' hand had found its way into the Eskandr and they, in their panic, did not really seem to even notice it pressing against their clothes, their armors, their bare skin even. He pressed the two ends in his hands together and let the carnage begin. No need to incinerate anybody as that would, again, have been a waste of energy urgently needed later on. Wreaking havoc upon the control of muscles, last but not least the one pumping the blood, was enough. The Eskandr started to release their poop into their pants as their nervous systems experienced catastrophic failure one after another. What would others say when stumbling upon this part of their diversionary force some minutes later ?

Otios realized only afterwards how eerily convenient this way of killing had been. He had not been burdened with seeing anybody in the eyes as they had died for he had been in a tree far above their heads. He had also not caused a bloodshed like any regular solider was condemned to do, just some burn marks nobody would care about. There were no blood stains on himself, no sweat, no nothing that would need to be maintained and thereby be able to remind him later on about his doings. His weapon had been a pair of long wires taken away from an originally very different purpose, and the only thing wrong with them now was being a bit hot for a few minutes. And a crowd had, somehow, just made things more anonymous.

Now he should probably get off this damn tree however and relocate, right ?

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi-Tabletop)

Skarsat

---

Skarsat found himself more than just slightly baffled to see someone who at least came somewhat close to his own stature, but at the same time he was not unhappy about it. Now any kind of big guy jokes would have to be evenly distributed among at least two persons, hitting each of them with only half of their previous strength... The thought did not experience anything like longevity in his mind though for he still was in the process of handing over a dead body he would have preferred not to exist. One could not rant at a dead person for the obvious mistakes one thought they had done, but one could dishonour them by just not caring. The latter was what Skarsat felt the others were on the verge of doing right now and he didn't want to take part in that.

Yet there still was a pressing issue, pressing because the Tork lacked the trust necessary to think about it more relaxedly. It was the pouch of coin whose weight now felt uncomfortably heavy for it was only an indication of how much money would have to be distributed fairly among everyone. He needed to preserve it until the moment was right. Maybe at an upcoming dinner ? That was the only moment Skarsat expected everyone to be at the same place.

The vessel he found himself on did not hold back its potential for surprise. It was clean. Well, not perfectly clean but certainly a lot more tidy and well maintained than Skarsat would have expected for a ship whose sole purpose probably was to be employed in the misdeeds of some criminal mastermind like Vargas. Thinking about the latter... What would Vargas do once learning about the little incident at the docks ? An open shootout with the sheriff's men including some casualties and even the demolishing of a belltower probably was not what he had had in mind for their undocking procedure! The Tork man experienced an uneasy feeling going through his stomach the more he let his mind have a crack at the whole affair.

He wanted this sea journey to be over rather sooner than later. It would be easier to run away on land than it would be on sea and there were only so many cannonballs and other things they could shoot any anyone going behind them. And what if Gerranti was given the authority to do so ? It wasn't like the list of valid accusations against their little party had not grown at a frightening pace over the last few... minutes ?

Skarsat didn't even step into the small cabin presented to them once having learned that he was to sleep elsewhere. It wasn't even so much about the small size for he would have been alright with sleeping on the floor if necessary, but it was a lot about the prospect of sharing such a limited space with people like Solange whom he still held a big grudge against. And, just maybe, also about the fact that Y'Vanna was so blatantly eager to get herself drunk yet again at the earliest moment possible. Hell if only those beverages in this part of the world had tasted properly!

One deck further down one could tell that one was close to the waterline. The ship's hull -- down there it was more visible than anywhere else for there were less additional walls blocking one's view -- did not exhibit any obvious flaws of course, but there was no way of ignoring the fact that any condensing water following the flow of gravity found a dead end in the ship's bilge. The comparative vastness of space still was highly preferable to that cramped place higher up, so Skarsat happily found himself an empty corner to put down the small pile that was his equipment and lay down in the adjacent hammock.

He was not directly below the quarter shown to them but on the other side of the ship, right ? Otherwise he could only hope that the deck planks were proof against some serious influx of puke and wouldn't allow it to come dripping down. Just in case his extrapolation of what he had seen beginning up there would prove to be correct...

Nice to meet ya!

Hello and welcome to the guild!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask! :)

The Mystery (WolfLover + Fetzen)

Valentin felt happy about having somewhat 'resolved' the growing situation. Mr. Reinhart was... quite exquisite and delicate in his way of handling whom he considered to be a stranger. Maybe he had to be because these barracks also contained most of the guard's weapons so any intrusion and potential theft there could prove disastrous for the capital's overall security, but still there would have been much friendlier ways to hinder access. He had been affected by this kind of treatment, too.

"Yes, we are to rendezvous our employer so to speak in one of the offices." The large and equally muscled man carefully guided his fingers along the lines of his finely cut beard, silently wondering about why this had to be the place of their meeting. "I'm afraid to say I don't know why it has to be here, but so it is. Maybe it's because they want us to depart immediately afterwards and supplies are easy to get here ?" It was an open question -- maybe Amara knew more than him and this would now be a real good opportunity to tell. Valentin did not have much hope though for it would not have made sense to distribute information so asymmetrically.

Turning around on his heel quickly, Valentin began to guide his steps towards one of the heavy wooden doors nearby. "Don't worry about my wait, it's not your fault! I just can't rule out that our employer is on good terms with Mr. Reinhart." He indeed had not seen their future boss himself yet so the chance of him or her having rude enough manners to make friends with others of a similar attitude was there. Even if not however: Punctuality was a virtue in terms of making a good first impression.

The inside of the stone building was much cooler than the yard outside, and also much more relaxed in other aspects for all the noise caused by marching soldiers and yelled orders was muffled and became even more so the further one went inside. "Something about second floor I've been told. Let's see..." and Valentin continued upwards, occasionally even taking two steps at once.

It was a piece of physical effort pretty much completely in vain for the second floor revealed to be a seemingly limitless array of doors running along one side of the wide corridor. Each and everyone had the same boring, anonymous appearance to it and while Valentin could see that there were actually small signs attached to the wall next to each of them, he also knew that reading all of these would consume a lot of time. "Erm... Amara ? You don't happen to know more about our precise location, do you ?" Valentin smiled shily. "Otherwise I don't see any other option but to just go through the first one and ask for help."

He could have predicted that, couldn't he ? The thought stung in his mind...