Fetzen

The Mystery (WolfLover + Fetzen)

"Split up ?" Valentin answered maybe a bit more vigorously than would have been necessary. "We might find the room faster, but at the same time we'd probably lose each other in this maze!" Agreed, so far the building did look rather like one hell of a boring architectural design with only a few, but endlessly long corridors and floors sharing pretty much the same layout, but with so many offices and the very real possibility that entering one of them would drag them into a conversation with grumpy administrators inside who'd ask questions similar to those of Mr. Reinhardt...

On the other hand, even if the rooms here followed a numbering system they'd be able to figure out soon, there still were so many of them! "Okay. How about if we split up, but only as far as we stay in the same corridor so each of us has at least a rough idea about where the other one is at any given time ? Then someone of us will either find A3B or we'll end up with nothing and can switch to the next part of the building together."

A rather loud bang could be heard surging up the overly large staircase they had just used. Valentin carefully bowed his head over the stone railing to check what was going on, but the only thing he could see were fluctuations of light and shadow that indicated not one, but quite a few people had just entered the place. A mixture of joyful, but also a few more agitated conversations reached their ears, and soon part of the crowd from below separated itself and came up the stairs. The men were in uniform, but nowhere near full battle dress as they lacked any equipment, and continued talking to each other as they passed Amara and Valentin on their way to their offices.

Valentin just stood there, looking at Amara with a bit of a helpless expression, and gestured with his hands slightly: "Did you see that ? They just ignored us! Guess it's all up to Mr. Reinhardt to compensate for everybody else's attitude in here!" Amara's companion let a few more seconds pass until the crowd had thoroughly dispersed, then went off towards one half of the corridor. A3B... how hard could that be to find ?

The Five Senses

Týfurkh

What had just happened had been a very, very long way down the list of T+yfurkh's expectancies. The man he had encountered far back on his way, the mysterious individual that had ultimately guided him to the Pactmakers and the whole affair with the Sightless, he... was not exactly an ordinary mage, right ? Týfurkh had not yet heard of a spell that would allow somebody to witness an arbitrary event like a crossbow bolt hitting something from an arbitrary position, let alone said somebody to teleport in, change the flow of time and deliver some kind of weird message before disappearing again. However it was either that or this mage had perhaps planted a message in his head to be delivered when the time had come.

Both alternatives were not exactly to Týfurkh's liking! And if someone was so capable, why did he need some Pactmakers to stop something from going on in the first place ? Way too many question waiting to b...

Bang!

That was all Týfurkh heard on his attempted escape from the clearly angered seed as he was suddenly thrown around. Even as he landed quite hard, he was not yet aware that his heavy armor, albeit dented, had actually saved his life where more light equipment might have failed utterly. Týfurkh tried to inhale fresh air as the impact had blown out the old one for sure, but as he did he could sense both the expansion of his chest being constrained by the reshaped metal and the location where he had been hit hurting quite a lot. His breathing clearly was impaired and that was not a good thing for the rest of the fight, but he couldn't afford even just taking the time to drop his chestpiece.

The giant's steel boots skid along the stone floor as he tried to accelerate out of harms way, but the cloud of dust that inadvertently came along with parts of the ceiling still caught up to and surrounded him. Caughing, Týfurkh frantically tried to at least reestablish his line of sight with Chres. Whether the seed's vision and ability to find targets would be impaired by the dust as well ? Something inside him doubted it, given the so far quite wicked properties it had so blatantly presented them with.

Týfurkh, still aware of being a prime target for the seed's anger, sought shelter behind what looked like a pile of abandoned barrels, shelves and other debris. It was not exactly a sturdy barrier, but maybe it would buy him just enough time to reload the crossbow or think of a new way of blowing parts of the seed up.

The Sunday Group

Added Fynn's opinions to the sheet!

The Sunday Group

Fynn Laplace

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 ? :)

Opions on other members of the Sunday group:

Eleanor Tregellan:
What am I to say ? She's my boss, and 'boss' is a role I have never found myself in yet. I can only guess that sometimes being a bit abrupt and very straight to the point is part of the job, though I'd not be opposed to that kind of behavior in general. Also I don't know what kind of stupid as fuck office bullshit from higher up she's actually keeping away from us instead of burdening us with, but if the Sunday Group works like other large companies I guess it's a lot. So I respect her unless for some reason she'd start disrespecting me which I can't see happening in any near future.

Primrose Chastain:
I don't like her kind of magic to be honest, but even without it I think the only way to socially stop her is to make her run out of little fingers she can twist people around. A very useful property if used right, like hacking just in the social instead of the electronic domain, but I certainly don't want to fall victim to it. Displaying one's wealth as openly as she does is not my style, but who am I to accuse others of having such a background ? All in all I don't see why we shouldn't be able to come along fine together on a daily basis.

Jaelle Codona:
What people seem to forget is that your actual knowledge about technology is not the entire deal, but it's also very much about your general approach to it. That's where so many people fail utterly and she excels at: Don't just use your device superficially and complain to your system administrator -- me! -- when it's suddenly broken due to a layer 8 problem, but try to learn stuff yourself and be on the move! It's saddening she can't hold a soldering iron for herself, otherwise I'd happily lock ourselves up in a room for a few nights just to create something weird and awesome.

Malcador Ravenwood:
I can't deny the mild feeling that there's something that makes us two very similar in a way, yet at the same time I also can't work around the fact that my shoes keep slipping on the trail on slime that man leaves behind just by making himself seen. Why did Mr. Perfect have to join the Sunday Group instead of becoming a model in the fashion industry or the like ? Ah right, he's a mage, and a very talented on top of that. Guess that qualifies. And for the rest... I'd be pretty screwed if it ever came out that my virtual reality goggles have been modified to display him as a fat ogre!

Alyx Bellamy:
I have not yet dared to ask her whether we should to a competition between her and our office printer about who can reproduce a painting more accurately, but I wouldn't entirely rule out her actually winning and it's that kind of love for detail and discipline I like. I'm sure the others would like such a competition happening, too, because while she's busy drawing the lifetime of our auditory senses gets extended by the same amount. I just can't stand that infinite stream of words and fear the day she'll walk into my office because she's got an issue with her laptop!

The Sunday Group

Question 1:

I don't know the US very well at all, but... Boston ?



Question 2:

Not for long I'd say. A few years or maybe even less ? They could have hired him as sort of a purely standard system administrator until it was discovered that he's... not so standard at all.

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.