Fiber

Mage The Ascension: Illusion and Reality in the City of Sin

Las Vegas is the savage heart of the American Dream
Hunter S. Thompson

What is Mage The Ascension?

The Game of Philosophical Knife Fights.

Inside your character is a supernatural gift, that their perception can become reality, and accomplish things that the slumbering masses would think are impossible. How they do this is something that differs for every one of the so-called awakened, some chant rituals and draw sigils, some call upon spirits, some pray to the divine, some build wondrous devices, it matters not how they do it, all methods are real in the eyes of their practitioners and in their tangible effects on the world.

With time and study your character will deepen their wisdom and soar higher, past the old limits and the boundaries of reality. This journey of self discovery will not be an easy one, as every supernatural action draws a reaction from the mundane reality that is held together by the consensus of everyday life; too much boldness, too blatant a use of magic can result in terrifying backlash as reality reasserts itself in a most violent way. Ever present in the background also are the architects of the present age, the group that took the society from a world of superstition and myth and to one of cold, unbending science and technology. They are the Technocracy, and they are the enemy of every free spirited mage that dares to practice the supernatural arts in the modern day. Whether they are embedded in law enforcement, research labs, or corporate hierarchies, their agents are ever present and utterly devoted to snuffing out any trace of the supernatural. Against them stand the nine traditions, disparate groups of mages united by their battle against the technocrats, holding out hope that a world where the supernatural is part of everyday life can bloom again, and that every human pursue their own spiritual awakening. In the vastness of the world there are other, even stranger kinds one may encounter, some whose quest to control reality has led them to be lost in their own dreams, completely unmoored from the mundane, or those who would prefer to see it all burn, who revel and delight at every last corner of reality they can blight with a little more decay or bitterness.

Mage is about both the inner battle of self-mastery and the outer battle of individuals against a society that demand that any nail that sticks out be hammered down, it’s a game where people discuss the nature of reality and have kung fu fights with terminator robots, it’s a game about perseverance, hope, and everything else that comes up along the way. And yes, it is The Game of Philosophical Knife Fights.

What is this RP?

This RP centers on a small group of mages brought together by chance in the city of Las Vegas. They might be new to magic, they might be new to Vegas, new to both or new to neither. A chance discovery of a strange, otherworldly poker chip brings all of them together, and gives them their first taste of the wider storm brewing on the horizon. They’ll start off with humble powers and grow over time, as they get drawn into a larger conflict brewing behind the scenes. Vegas has got a lot of themes to explore, from reality the border between reality and illusions, to risking it on all on a crazy bet, to the just plain insanity of fighting a war for reality in a city that features fake Venice, fake Paris, fake New York, and fake Rome among other things.

I would describe the style I’m trying to run as a quasi-sandbox. There will be a lot of plot hooks that your characters are given the option to pursue, with freedom to pick and choose among them, and you’re encouraged to add your own ideas or personal subplots in also. As the GM I will try to make most of them have some impact on the overall story to create a sense of plot progression. Hopefully, it can allow for player freedom and create variety between personal, episodic, and long term plot lines. I’m looking for dedicated players who would want to be part of that; knowledge of the setting is not necessary, I’m happy to answer any questions that come up along the way. Please be comfortable writing long posts for collaborations and detailed scenes, though solo scenes without much happening still won’t need more than a handful of paragraphs.

Rules
1. Be kind to everyone. If you have a dispute, work it out in a civil way.
2. Respect the bounds of the RP. Remember the general rules about not godmoding, controlling others characters, making characters that are overpowered/setting breaking, or contradicting what’s been established for RP. There’s plenty of room to work with others and incorporate ideas, just try to talk it through first.
3. Be part of a group. Try to work with people to make the RP happen, give people the opportunity to decide where the plot goes. Also, if you end up leaving the RP, it's all fine, just let us know if you can.

If anyone is extra eager to get started on a character, here you go.

Character Creation information

Basic info

The Nine Traditions

The nine traditions cover most Mages outside of the Technocracy, but it is not mandatory to belong to one. There are Mages who follow more niche methodologies usually called crafts (looking those up is left as an exercise for the reader), or those that follow a personal methodology that doesn't align with any large group, called Orphans.

Information on Traditions (Yes I did steal this from TV Tropes):
Order of Hermes: The traditional 'wizard' and user of Hermetic Magic. Masters of the Sphere of Forces.
Verbena: Pagan and druidic-inspired witches who use healing and transformation powers. Masters of the Sphere of Life.
Celestial Chorus: Spiritual and religious miracle workers who channel the power of their faith. Masters of the Sphere of Prime.
Dreamspeakers (Kha'vadi): Shamans who commune with the world of the spirits. Obviously, masters of the Sphere of Spirit.
Akashic Brotherhood (Akashayana): Enlightened monks from the Far East, and experts of Supernatural Martial Arts. Masters of the Sphere of Mind.
Euthanatos (Chakravanti): Necromantic mages who guide the great wheel of death and rebirth. Masters of the Sphere of Entropy.
Cult of Ecstasy (Sahajiya): Mages who seek to alter perceptions and find new experiences, usually through the use of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Masters of the Sphere of Time.
Sons of Ether: Mad Scientist mages who embrace the weirder and more fantastic theories of Science. Also known as the gender-neutral Society of Ether or Etherites. Masters of the Sphere of Matter.
Virtual Adepts: Computer wizards and hacker mages who seek to open up technology to the masses. Masters of the Sphere of Correspondence.

The Nine Spheres of Magic

These are the areas of magic someone can be proficient in, what spheres someone is competent with determines what kinds of magical effects they can create. More skill with a sphere will allow for more impressive feats. Combining spheres allows people to do things one sphere alone cannot, such as using Life and Matter to turn a statue into a living being, Forces and Mind to turn thoughts into a light projection, or Matter and Correspondence to teleport an inanimate object

Name | What it covers | Example effects
Correspondence | Space, Distance, Connections | Sense far away places, open portals, teleport, manipulate the distance between things
Entropy | Fate, probability, uncertainty, chaos, possibilities | Control chance outcomes, curse something with bad luck, alter the probability of potential events
Forces | Energy, elemental forces, motion, vibration, light | Conjure light, throw fireballs, dull sound, manipulate electricity, telekinesis
Life | Living things, biological processes | Heal wounds, shapeshift living things, inflict diseases, enhance natural abilities
Matter | Inanimate objects, physical materials | Reshape inanimate objects, transmute lead into gold, turn solid things into liquid, create chemical reactions
Mind | Thought, mental processes, consciousness, psychology, human judgment, perception | Read minds, manipulate emotions, conjure illusions, attack people on a telepathic level
Prime | Raw magical energy, the primal essence of reality | Sense magic, counter magic, harvest magical energies from nodes, embed magic in places and objects, manage paradox backlash
Spirit | Other worlds, spirits, hauntings | See other dimensions, talk to spirits, venture into the spirit world, open portals to other worlds
Time | The flow of time, speed and duration, the past and the future | Get premonitions, slow time, speed up things to supernatural levels

CS Skeleton

Quote that embodies the character. Can be something they said, something said about them, or a famous quote that fits them

Tradition ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Tradition of magic (Can be any of the nine traditions, any of the disparates, or an Orphan mage. No Nephandi, no marauders, and no open Technocrats. Defectors and undercover Technocrats are allow) Spheres ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (List the spheres of magic that your character has skill with, in order of most skilled to least skilled. The less you list, the more skilled you will be at each of them. ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	_______________________________________________ Full Name Age (18 or older, please) Appearance details not highlighted in the image used (optional) Outlook: This section is the one where you talk about who your character is as a person. Personality is a big part, so are inner struggles, and their general outlook on life. This is also the section where you talk about their relationship with reality, what do they actually do when they are working magic? What actions do they take to invoke these powers, how do they think they operate? Are there inbuilt assumptions or limitations? This is also where you can talk about your mage's Avatar, the entity that exists inside the Mage's mind and represents their connection with their magic. How this operates differs for every mage, some see their avatar as a person that comes in their dreams, others hear a voice in their head, still others may not even see them a conscious being, just notice signs and messages that seem to be from a mirror of themselves. How overtly it appears to a mage also varies, some hear from them only once in a blue moon, others seldom spend a moment where they don't feel their avatar's presence in some way	Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (Talk about their biography, how they came to be where they are now) Plot Hooks ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (Not required. If you want to list potential storylines or unresolved issues related to your character that might come up later, this is where you can do that)

_{Affiliations
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
(Not Required. List characters they know and have some kind of relationship with. Can be PCs or NPCs)
Character: Relationship}

Do you feel lucky?

ᵀʰᵉ Last Avatar & ᵀʰᵉ Red Lotus.

_______________________________........

Location · |@Fiber] & |@Exit] CollaborationLocation · @Fiber & @Exit Collaboration ____________________________________________________________________________. Zhen and 141 emerged from the dark edges of the 'bowl' and pushed through the streams of people moving into and out of the club. Many stopped to stare at the two but most stayed out of their way, even the ones with guns. The first and only man to stop them was the one posted at the entrance to the Core. The incredibly large and rather tall man took notice of them soon after they'd stepped out of the shadows, conspicuous as they were. He'd kept his focus on directing the large volume of moving traffic up until the duo stepped under the glowing arches. Faux molten rock cast lazy, eerie orange and red hues across all of their silhouettes. Behind the man and in the shadows were the subtle outlines of two more individuals standing guard. Exit    ”Hey.” His eyes bounced back and forth between the both of them. It was clear by his expression he didn’t know exactly what he was looking at and while he took note of Zhen, he kept looking at 141 who was standing just above him. ”Club’s closed. Come back later.” Fiber    Zhen kept distance from the man, close enough to be heard but not letting him or anyone else from the crowd to hover too closely. She trusted Object-141 to watch the crowd and surrounding area, what he lacked in judgment he made up for with superior sensors. She got right to the point with the man. “We have reason to believe an extremely dangerous firebender is taking refuge in your club. I can show you a badge but I doubt it would matter to you. Instead I ask does the owner want to be operating a club or charnel house? You and I both know how fires work in closed spaces.” Exit    Traffic going into the club came to a halt but those inside continued to pour out. The ones outside began circling behind both 141 and Zhen, cutting them off from an exit as they assumed a half-circle like position at their rear. 141 didn’t move, remaining where he was behind Zhen like a wall she could lean against. The man in front of them fixed his eyes on Zhen’s reflective dome as if he were trying to peer through it to whoever was underneath. Try as he might, however, the only thing he could see was his own face staring back at him… and the entrance behind. He watched more people leaving the club and waited until there was a large enough break in the crowd. Whatever confusion he was suffering from before was gone, replaced only by an acceptance and a determination. ”Yeah you’re right. I do know.” A quick hand sign and one of the figures in the dark on the left shifted, throwing an arm draped in shadow into the wall nearby. Immediately, a large, thick metal door slammed shut behind them, locking everyone out and leaving all those inside trapped. On the right, a figure stepped into the light with their arm raised and a gun in his hand pointed toward Zhen. His short black hair bounced slightly with his step. A glowing cigarette hung from his lips. He pulled from it a lungful of smoke and blew it at her. ”Made a mistake comin’ on down here on yuh own. Last mistake yuh ever make.” His finger tightened on the trigger. Fiber    Guns were small objects, easy to jostle with a little blast of air. Normally, a precise blast was tricky in the heat of the battle, when distance and the time to focus strained even the abilities of Zhen’s computer aided brain, but the scant seconds while he waited for a reply were ample time for her. She had to shift with her body, her hands to summon the air blast with bending, but a weak one like this required no great exertion, nothing she couldn’t pass off as raising her hands and shifting her stance out of tension. It hit at the perfect angle to toss the gun from his hand, and put of the flame of his cigarette. One less cigarette, she had just lengthened his life by .0001%. Trivial, and not the type of thing she should be thinking about now, but Zhen’s mind had spent so long crunching numbers around the costs and benefits of lives that a fact like that was automatic. As soon as the gun was out of his grip, she grabbed him with the hand with integrated shock glove and delivered a dose of agony to him. It incapacitated, not killing him, though perhaps he may end up dying anyway for what he just saw. That was a decision someone other than Zhen would make. Now, as the chaos unfolded, she said only one thing “141, lethal force is authorized” Exit    Zhen was given a grunt in response. The first man, the large one, moved to intercept Zhen, but as he took a step in her direction, he was stopped mid-stride when a large hand wrapped around his neck and lifted him off the ground. 141 simply held him there for a moment like a child would a doll, letting him kick and scratch at the arm crushing his throat before it tightened its grip. Bones snapped with a sickening crunch and 141 folded the body over in its hand before turning and tossing it into the crowd behind them. By now, the majority of them had brought their guns to bear on the two intruders, but the boulder of a dead man hurtling toward them scattered their formation and caught some unlucky few in the face. Before they could recover, 141 was already on top and in the middle of the crowd, tearing them to pieces. Screams echoed across the carved chambers of the cavern amidst the sound of gunfire and ricochet. The body Zhen was attached to continued to spasm under her grasp, but as he lay twitching in the dirt, a dark cloud of thick black smoke began to drift over him and over her arm. It bellowed out from somewhere in front of the now closed doors of the club where the other man had been standing. He was nowhere to be seen. Fiber    Zhen’s next priority was getting some elevation, a perch where she could survey the area better. She jumped, with airbending assisted height, and glided down to a roof above. There she could see the attackers, harass them with more airblasts while 141 wreaked havoc. It would also let her look for an alternate entrance to the club, because the front door no longer looked like a safe path. Exit    Zhen stood now on a slanted section of the roof to the Core. Below her, the crowd continued in their futile effort to subdue 141. Guns were barking in the dark, smoke and dust was filling the already thick air. The temperature was beginning to rise. Large neon letters, each one about her height, blasted her silhouette from behind, dousing her in a deep red hue. Beyond the four glowing letters was the dirt wall of the ‘bowl’ they were all in. The very boundary to the lowest point in all of Ba Sing Se, or at least the lowest possible point accessible to most people. There was no visible alternative entrance into the club from up here, but there was someone else on the roof with her. A bolt of superheated energy struck the side of Zhen’s helmet and bounced harmlessly off, colliding instead with the ‘O’ of the neon sign. Zhen’s figure was immediately cast into shadow as the glass tubing of that letter shattered, breaking the light. From the other side of the still working letters, a figure was once again disappearing into a cloud of thick black smoke. Fiber    In a situation with many threats, it was important to deal with them quickly. The man with the smoke was another complication, but nothing that made Zhen panic. A low slung airblast to dissipate the smoke and disrupt his balance, then a full force blow that she manipulated with remote bending so that it came from behind him, both forces working in harmony to send him flying. As he hurtled forward, she grabbed him out of the air and delivered both a shock with her glove and a cleanly executed hip toss, augmented with yet another airblast to ensure he would be headed over the edge of the roof with enough force that he would be unable to remain conscious. From there she could turn to the rest of the battlefield, ensuring it remained clear of smoke and help 141 to thin the crowd. Exit    It didn’t take very long at all for the field to clear. The smarter ones ran off. The rest were torn to shreds, unable to subdue the unstoppable physical force that was 141 given the freedom it so badly wanted. Within minutes, the gunfire had stopped and all that remained were a myriad of screams echoing inside the dirt chamber; the unlucky few left alive to suffer the irreparable damage done to their body. 141 itself hadn’t been left completely unscathed. There were small burn marks across its entire body. Dark circles etched into it where bullets had slammed into the armor it wore and bounced harmlessly off. With the way it was covered in blood stains and streaks, it was difficult to tell if any of the bullets had found the weak points in between the platinum weave plates. However, 141 didn’t show any signs of pain or slowing down. It lumbered back to the door, a lifeless corpse hanging from its grasp as it dragged part of the body on the ground behind it. Fiber    With the man on the roof dispatched, Zhen found a fire escape, the entrance blocked by a locked door. They had taken some precautions after all. She stood off to the side, entering her stance and gathering her energy for what came next. It was a well rehearsed routine of calm breathing, circular motions, and emptying her mind, a process executed flawlessly and without any spiritual intent. Like everything in life, Airbending could be reduced to raw physical realities when Zhen thought about it. Inside Zhen’s brain, in the circuits now enmeshed with her own cortex, a radio pulse stirred. A tiny signal, made with hardware not designed for it, it would not carry beyond the immediate distance, it only transmitted one byte at a time. The fastest she could get it to go was only enough for simple text transmission, in the most basic code, but she knew the intended recipient would understand. R-E-A-D-Y were the only letters that were sent, then just numbers, ticking down, a timecode approaching zero. She did not wait for any acknowledgement for 141, it knew what to do. Her own airblast burst forth and ripped the door off it’s hinges, still carrying enough overpressure to disoriented anyone in the hallway. No shots came into the doorway so she thought it safe to dive through, and when she heard shouts coming from beyond bend in the hallway, she conjured another airblast to pick up the door from it’s resting place at the end and throw it down towards whoever was over there. To take advantage of the opening she created an air scooter and stood on it, hurtling down the corridor. She saw a few armed men now looking at her, attention off the main door, some already disabled by her move with the door. Another took aim at her, she gave him an airblast straight to the chest to send him flying, while one closer struggled to adjust to her speed she lept off the air scooter and let it run into another of them. Still in the air, she hit him with a small air blast, enough to disarm his loose grip on his gun and sending him spinning around. As she came down while his back was turned she wrapped her legs around his shoulders and then pulled down, combining with gravity to spike his head into the ground. When Zhen had finished with him, she noticed one of the others armed with a heavier, belt-fed gun, now aiming it at her and a split second away from pulling the trigger. The rest were behind him, preparing their own assault. An easy opportunity. Just as he began to fire, she conjured a tornado underneath him and let him spin wildly with his field of fire. She was low to the ground, out reach, but his companions were not. He fired and watched them all fall from his 360 degree torrent, head spinning and disorientation grow as smoke bellowed from the barrel. The tornado stopped when his magazine was empty, and he could barely stand from the disorientation, unable to stop Zhen from walking near him and tapping him on the shoulder with an electric grasp that would make him join the rest of his companions, disabled on the floor. While the shocks surged forth, she had one phrase to say to him “Trigger discipline.” Exit    By the time 141 managed to lift the large door blocking his entry, the group guarding that door had been handily taken care of. It noted Zhen standing just beyond a spread of bodies, each one riddled with bullet holes while one seemingly took a door to the face. All of them were dead. He simply huffed and began lumbering forward. If his objective in that very moment was taken care of, all that was left of him to do was move on to the next. Just beyond the flight of stairs were the sounds of more people. Screaming and shouting. Some of it sounded commanding while others sounded panicked. There was the distinct scraping noise of objects being dragged across the floor. The sharp sound of glass shattering. The sound of rounds being chambered. All of it to the backdrop of the music that hadn’t stopped playing. It seemed the DJ had left their post in a hurry. As soon as 141’s form crested the top landing of the flight of stairs, the group below opened fire.

Tamashī no Samuraitachi

Enrique

Enrique Hernandez

____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name Enrique Haralabos Hernandez Nicknames/Aliases Haralabos Hernandez Handyman Holdings (not an actual registered company but sometimes people making him write something on a form to get paid) Birth City/District: San-Washington Age: 45 Height 5' 11" (top of head, not including stowed cybernetics) Racial Background: Mixed, mostly Latino and Greek, small amounts of Indian and African ancestry Race: Zero Percenter Hair Color: Bald, black when it grows out Eye Color: Steel Grey (due to cybernetics) Appearance: Heavy armor plating on all parts of him exposed to the elements, very scratched paint job on it. Tan, leathery skin when he bothered to keep the synthskin intact over the armor. Massive cybnernetic array on his back, holding the drones and plow when it is stowed, and the material resevoir for the Extruder tool. Palm of hands features the focus lenses of the Matsushita LX-H Hard Light tool, both arms feature added bulk from their signature tool, ridges, coils, and tubing from the Uchide-no-kozuchi on one arm, the bit, motor, and charge container for the M99-Issun-Boshi on the other. Almost always covered in dust or other stains. Visible motors, pistons and gears in certain places. Mutation Marker(s): N.A. Personality: Enrique is a quiet guy, dependable, values keeping his word and doesn't like to start trouble. He's happy to talk about work but doesn't like to open up much beyond that except to people he knows really well. He is slow to trust, slow to anger and does not appreciate loudmouths or boasting. Independence is something he values, and while he is happy to work on a project together, he resents it when he feels people aren't pulling their weight. This harshness extends to himself, he is proud of his own hard work, to the point that he will almost always refuse help if it feels like it is taking away his own agency. This also makes him judgmental of others, while he seldom says it out loud, he has little respect for anyone who sacrifices their freedom in search of an easier or more peaceful life. He's not a showoff, and doesn't like to start drama over nothing, when he is in a violent situation he is calm and workmanlike, without anger or panic. In tense situations he rarely panics, but it also prone to pessimism, and will often write things off as a lost cause even when there is still hope. His passion for cybernetics can spill over to addiction, bordering on obsessive tinkering and perfecting of his hardware to attain some standard that exists only in his mind, some standard he will never reach. He has little sense of self preservation, and is prone to fretting over small flaws in mistakes he makes. Enrique is a strong believer in equality and solidarity, he values people working together and hates any form of inborn privelige. He values his quiet time and solitary pursuits, and this is when his softer side comes out. It is something he doesn't like to show, but he is capable of showing genuine care for others. Aspirations: Enrique values being a self made man. That is a continous quest without a defined end, something he upholds throughout his hard work and continued perfection. He takes equal pride in building skills and adding on cybernetics. He also takes pride in his craftmanship, he sees value in doing quality work, and wants to make sure whatever he works on lasts a long time. Enrique also believe in making a positive difference in the lives of others; he isn't warm and cuddly but he does genuinely value helping others and likes to teach and mentor, especially to people who were born with very little. He doesn't follow politics, but would be very happy to see more rights and equality for Zero Percenters. Fears: He doesn't like showing weakness. Enrique hates be dependent on people, he hates having to ask for help. He fears failing people, and failing in a public way, and most of all he doesn't want to let down the people he cares about. It sticks with him enough that he actively avoids trying to get too attached to people, because he doesn't want to lose them or disappoint them. Vehicle: A beat up old work van, it holds his tools and is a place to sleep when he's on the go. Yes, people try to break into it and yes he will break several bones of whoever he catches trying. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Enrique is tough, physically as well as mentally. His cybernetic body is armored like a tank, and the raw power output is hard to match in anything human shaped. It comes equipped with tools to handle almost any project, whether it is construction or destruction; it might be slow, but once he sets to work there is little that can stand in his way. He's resourceful too, years of experience give him a lot of ideas about how to improvise when the situation gets rough. Years of experience have given him an encyclopedic knowledge of construction and cybernetics, there are few problems that can stump him in either domain. He backs all of this up with determination, courage, and strong ability to push on through pain. Weaknesses/Flaws: As good as Enrique is with manipulating anything physical, he is almost useless when it comes to the inner working of computers. He doesn't have time for the digital world and is set in his ways about that. His current configuration of cybernetics make him extremely obvious and bad at stealth, and overall he is not suited to fast movement. He also comes to rely them, and if they are damaged or disabled he has little to fall back on. This also means he has to spend time fixing them to stay ready. He's never been part of a formal military, so he is actually unfamiliar with using weapons that aren't integrated as part of his cybernetics. In his personal life, he has been known to drink or use substances heavily, which may have negative consequences. Soul Binder/Weapon(s): N.A. Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: 3M CleanAIR Dust and Industrial Toxin filtration system (Protects him from inhaling dust or toxic gas) NEC Cyber-I, low light and dust model (Allows him to see in low light and dusty conditions) Panasonic ClearChannel Sensory Procssor (Integrated radio and noise protector. Also can be configured to deliver painkillers and mood suppressants as the situation requires) DeWalt MAX XR Industrial Servo-muscular system (Enhanced Strength) Mitsubishi Heavy Industries Type 77 DO-MARU Heavy Armor Plating (Heavy Armor, all over his body) CAT R1200 XEP Articulated Plow (A heavily armored plow, normally stowed on his back, split into two halves that can be joined or articulated independently, can change position or apply force, useful as additional frontal armor, clearing obstacles, or digging into the earth) Komatsu KX9 Heavy Load Bipedal Mobility System (Reinforced legs for carrying the extra load or providing dampening from heay impacts) Dyno-Nobel SafeShot Explosive Stowage and Initiation System (Built in safe storage compartments and triggering system for explosive charges. Can also store non-explosive items if he just needs to have things on hand) Matsushita LX-H Hardlight Cutting/Force Application Tool (Hard light system that can work as versatile, variable geometry cutting tool or apply brute force for protection or demolition purposes, has two of these) Hitachi Uchide-no-kozuchi MK2 Extruder/Hotend/Linear Accelerator Assembly (A combination of the hotend of an industrial 3D Printer and a railgun. It can shape and deposit material for some quick and dirty fabrication, but it's ability to superheat and accelerate material means that it can also function as welder, a thermal lance, or a way to accelerate superheated materials at extreme speeds towards whoever Enrique thinks needs some rapid re-education) Ryobi-Milwaukee FUEL M99-Issun-Boshi Rotary Pilebunker (Combination of a drill and jackhammer. It can do mundane things like drive in fasteners, but the main appeal is tearing through tough materials) Sony AIRO Integrated Drone Assistance System (Holds light duty flying drones to assist with construction work. Could support up to six ultra-light drones, less if they are equipped with tools that are actually capable of doing things other than sensing or extremely light duty. Most common configuration equipping the drones with light duty hard light projectors.) Fanuc CRX-Light Duty Supplemental Tool Arm (Third arm can hold an additional tool or brace himself when doing work. Not heavy enough to be used with anything that would require cybernetics to handle) Toyota 2JX Power Core with Overboost Add-on (Powers everything, has extra power mode which can give him a lot more propulsion for a short amount of time, though he will still maneuver like a river barge on land despite the increased speed) E X T R A Anything else? His daughter is alive, has a YSG, and is a member of a tactical Idol group called Perfect All Kill. He knows none of this Theme Song: youtu.be/jSzKcObWkt8

H i s t o r y Test Enrique is from San Washington, from a family that feels no shame about their zero percenter status. The local community was tight knit and his family were well known within it, at every community meeting, political rally, charity drive, or celebration you could find someone from Enrique's family there. They ended up lower middle class through hard work and grit, still near the bottom of the social ladder overall but able to avoid abject poverty. Though he had parents that cared for him, a supportive family, and stable home environment, his childhood was far from carefree. His parents pushed him to work hard and held to high standards, and he was constantly busy between school, helping his parents, and working odd jobs to bring in some extra money. They also made sure he knew just how precarious his situation was, that one bad encounter with the authorities or the gangs could end it all. He himself felt that when his uncle was arrested for radical politics and executed; from that moment onward his parents told him not to rock the boat, to be a model citizen, differentiate himself through dedication to work and following the rules. He didn't believe that this would make people see him differently, neither did his parents, but they saw it as the best way to survive in a harsh world. One common theme of Enrique's work experience was his mechanical aptitude. He was always salvaging, tinkering, and working with anything he could get his hands on. Cybernetics were his passion; he had no money to go to a real college, but he was able to use what he had to move to Old Kinsasha for an apprenticeship as a cybernetics technician. The hours were long, the work was hard, but Enrique learned a great deal and earned praise from all around. He dreamt of bringing what he learned back to San Washington and opening up his own small business, but that required money he didn't have. To try and earn some he took on dangerous work, construction outside the city walls, short contracts in the broken lands. It was only lucky that saved his life on those first few expeditions, before he knew better. That was the work that introduced him to the woman who he would fall in love with, Natsuko. She was different from Enrique, she was from Neo-Tokyo, born with a Yokai Gene and well educated. She was a manager, Enrique always said he fell for her because she was the only one of the managers who bothered to remember the names of the people doing the dangerous and backbreaking work, though if pressed he might admit was because of her charms, her Yokai Gene gave her the ethereal appearance of the classic Yuki-Onna apparation. Together Enrique and Natsuko hatched a plan for the rest of their life. She'd work her corporate job for a while and he would keep doing construction work until they had enough to start up a cybernetics shop together, he could handle the labor and she could handle the management. It wouldn't be a ticket to riches but it would offer them something rare in this world: freedom, a way to earn a living the way they wanted, free from corporate overlords and brutal contracts. Somehow it never bothered him that he'd be selling cybernetics despite having the very few himself; this choice wasn't because he feared them, it is because he was worried too much chrome and it's YG repellant properties would make it hard to care for a wife and eventual child that bore the gene. The journey to get there wasn't easy, Enrique never heard the details but apparently Natsuko's family was hostile to it, and although Enrique's own was not against it, they kept asking him if he was sure. The plan was all going well, Natsuko and Enrique were well on their way to building a life together, they were married (by common law, the official paperwork wasn't done), and they had a child on the way. It all changed one night, one snowy night when Enrique could not sleep and he did not know why. He lied awake, and out of the corner of his eye he saw something, he saw Natsuko disappearing out of the door. He called out to her and she showed no reaction, he ran after her but all he could see was mist and fast melting snow. That was the last he ever saw of her or his unborn child. For weeks he hoped they would return, but as that turned to months he began to accept she was gone. Enrique had no heart for his old dream, and poured all of the money he had into more cybernetics for himself, until he was more chrome than flesh, until he had made himself into the most optimized worker he could be. He was without purpose and intentionally took the most dangerous construction work he could, things in active combat zones or deep into the brokenlands, no longer caring if he lived or died. Years went by and he survived. Endless overtime and dangerous work toughed his exterior even more, but left him with few close confidants. With the money and his own skill, he was able to accumulate his cybernetics without ending up crippling debt to a corporation, but not much else. After several years Neo-Tokyo ended up his home base even if it wasn't his favorite city, but it was the one place that never had a shortage of work for someone skilled and willing to take on the craziest jobs. His reputation brought him into contact with Tsuki, and he trusted her enough to end up being dragged along with whatever ideas she came up with.

Tamashī no Samuraitachi

Enrique

Enrique Hernandez

____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name Enrique Haralabos Hernandez Nicknames/Aliases Haralabos Hernandez Handyman Holdings (not an actual registered company but sometimes people making him write something on a form to get paid) Birth City/District: San-Washington Age: 45 Height 5' 11" (top of head, not including stowed cybernetics) Racial Background: Mixed, mostly Latino and Greek, small amounts of Indian and African ancestry Race: Zero Percenter Hair Color: Bald, black when it grows out Eye Color: Steel Grey (due to cybernetics) Appearance: Heavy armor plating on all parts of him exposed to the elements, very scratched paint job on it. Tan, leathery skin when he bothered to keep the synthskin intact over the armor. Massive cybnernetic array on his back, holding the drones and plow when it is stowed, and the material resevoir for the Extruder tool. Palm of hands features the focus lenses of the Matsushita LX-H Hard Light tool, both arms feature added bulk from their signature tool, ridges, coils, and tubing from the Uchide-no-kozuchi on one arm, the bit, motor, and charge container for the M99-Issun-Boshi on the other. Almost always covered in dust or other stains. Visible motors, pistons and gears in certain places. Mutation Marker(s): N.A. Personality: Enrique is a quiet guy, dependable, values keeping his word and doesn't like to start trouble. He's happy to talk about work but doesn't like to open up much beyond that except to people he knows really well. He is slow to trust, slow to anger and does not appreciate loudmouths or boasting. Independence is something he values, and while he is happy to work on a project together, he resents it when he feels people aren't pulling their weight. This harshness extends to himself, he is proud of his own hard work, to the point that he will almost always refuse help if it feels like it is taking away his own agency. This also makes him judgmental of others, while he seldom says it out loud, he has little respect for anyone who sacrifices their freedom in search of an easier or more peaceful life. He's not a showoff, and doesn't like to start drama over nothing, when he is in a violent situation he is calm and workmanlike, without anger or panic. In tense situations he rarely panics, but it also prone to pessimism, and will often write things off as a lost cause even when there is still hope. His passion for cybernetics can spill over to addiction, bordering on obsessive tinkering and perfecting of his hardware to attain some standard that exists only in his mind, some standard he will never reach. He has little sense of self preservation, and is prone to fretting over small flaws in mistakes he makes. Enrique is a strong believer in equality and solidarity, he values people working together and hates any form of inborn privelige. He values his quiet time and solitary pursuits, and this is when his softer side comes out. It is something he doesn't like to show, but he is capable of showing genuine care for others. Aspirations: Enrique values being a self made man. That is a continous quest without a defined end, something he upholds throughout his hard work and continued perfection. He takes equal pride in building skills and adding on cybernetics. He also takes pride in his craftmanship, he sees value in doing quality work, and wants to make sure whatever he works on lasts a long time. Enrique also believe in making a positive difference in the lives of others; he isn't warm and cuddly but he does genuinely value helping others and likes to teach and mentor, especially to people who were born with very little. He doesn't follow politics, but would be very happy to see more rights and equality for Zero Percenters. Fears: He doesn't like showing weakness. Enrique hates be dependent on people, he hates having to ask for help. He fears failing people, and failing in a public way, and most of all he doesn't want to let down the people he cares about. It sticks with him enough that he actively avoids trying to get too attached to people, because he doesn't want to lose them or disappoint them. Vehicle: A beat up old work van, it holds his tools and is a place to sleep when he's on the go. Yes, people try to break into it and yes he will break several bones of whoever he catches trying. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Enrique is tough, physically as well as mentally. His cybernetic body is armored like a tank, and the raw power output is hard to match in anything human shaped. It comes equipped with tools to handle almost any project, whether it is construction or destruction; it might be slow, but once he sets to work there is little that can stand in his way. He's resourceful too, years of experience give him a lot of ideas about how to improvise when the situation gets rough. Years of experience have given him an encyclopedic knowledge of construction and cybernetics, there are few problems that can stump him in either domain. He backs all of this up with determination, courage, and strong ability to push on through pain. Weaknesses/Flaws: As good as Enrique is with manipulating anything physical, he is almost useless when it comes to the inner working of computers. He doesn't have time for the digital world and is set in his ways about that. His current configuration of cybernetics make him extremely obvious and bad at stealth, and overall he is not suited to fast movement. He also comes to rely them, and if they are damaged or disabled he has little to fall back on. This also means he has to spend time fixing them to stay ready. He's never been part of a formal military, so he is actually unfamiliar with using weapons that aren't integrated as part of his cybernetics. In his personal life, he has been known to drink or use substances heavily, which may have negative consequences. Soul Binder/Weapon(s): N.A. Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: 3M CleanAIR Dust and Industrial Toxin filtration system (Protects him from inhaling dust or toxic gas) NEC Cyber-I, low light and dust model (Allows him to see in low light and dusty conditions) Panasonic ClearChannel Sensory Procssor (Integrated radio and noise protector. Also can be configured to deliver painkillers and mood suppressants as the situation requires) DeWalt MAX XR Industrial Servo-muscular system (Enhanced Strength) Mitsubishi Heavy Industries Type 77 DO-MARU Heavy Armor Plating (Heavy Armor, all over his body) CAT R1200 XEP Articulated Plow (A heavily armored plow, normally stowed on his back, split into two halves that can be joined or articulated independently, can change position or apply force, useful as additional frontal armor, clearing obstacles, or digging into the earth) Komatsu KX9 Heavy Load Bipedal Mobility System (Reinforced legs for carrying the extra load or providing dampening from heay impacts) Dyno-Nobel SafeShot Explosive Stowage and Initiation System (Built in safe storage compartments and triggering system for explosive charges. Can also store non-explosive items if he just needs to have things on hand) Matsushita LX-H Hardlight Cutting/Force Application Tool (Hard light system that can work as versatile, variable geometry cutting tool or apply brute force for protection or demolition purposes, has two of these) Hitachi Uchide-no-kozuchi MK2 Extruder/Hotend/Linear Accelerator Assembly (A combination of the hotend of an industrial 3D Printer and a railgun. It can shape and deposit material for some quick and dirty fabrication, but it's ability to superheat and accelerate material means that it can also function as welder, a thermal lance, or a way to accelerate superheated materials at extreme speeds towards whoever Enrique thinks needs some rapid re-education) Ryobi-Milwaukee FUEL M99-Issun-Boshi Rotary Pilebunker (Combination of a drill and jackhammer. It can do mundane things like drive in fasteners, but the main appeal is tearing through tough materials) Sony AIRO Integrated Drone Assistance System (Holds light duty flying drones to assist with construction work. Could support up to six ultra-light drones, less if they are equipped with tools that are actually capable of doing things other than sensing or extremely light duty. Most common configuration equipping the drones with light duty hard light projectors.) Fanuc CRX-Light Duty Supplemental Tool Arm (Third arm can hold an additional tool or brace himself when doing work. Not heavy enough to be used with anything that would require cybernetics to handle) Toyota 2JX Power Core with Overboost Add-on (Powers everything, has extra power mode which can give him a lot more propulsion for a short amount of time, though he will still maneuver like a river barge on land despite the increased speed) E X T R A Anything else? His daughter is alive, has a YSG, and is a member of a tactical Idol group called Perfect All Kill. He knows none of this Theme Song: youtu.be/jSzKcObWkt8

H i s t o r y Test Enrique is from San Washington, from a family that feels no shame about their zero percenter status. The local community was tight knit and his family were well known within it, at every community meeting, political rally, charity drive, or celebration you could find someone from Enrique's family there. They ended up lower middle class through hard work and grit, still near the bottom of the social ladder overall but able to avoid abject poverty. Though he had parents that cared for him, a supportive family, and stable home environment, his childhood was far from carefree. His parents pushed him to work hard and held to high standards, and he was constantly busy between school, helping his parents, and working odd jobs to bring in some extra money. They also made sure he knew just how precarious his situation was, that one bad encounter with the authorities or the gangs could end it all. He himself felt that when his uncle was arrested for radical politics and executed; from that moment onward his parents told him not to rock the boat, to be a model citizen, differentiate himself through dedication to work and following the rules. He didn't believe that this would make people see him differently, neither did his parents, but they saw it as the best way to survive in a harsh world. One common theme of Enrique's work experience was his mechanical aptitude. He was always salvaging, tinkering, and working with anything he could get his hands on. Cybernetics were his passion; he had no money to go to a real college, but he was able to use what he had to move to Old Kinsasha for an apprenticeship as a cybernetics technician. The hours were long, the work was hard, but Enrique learned a great deal and earned praise from all around. He dreamt of bringing what he learned back to San Washington and opening up his own small business, but that required money he didn't have. To try and earn some he took on dangerous work, construction outside the city walls, short contracts in the broken lands. It was only lucky that saved his life on those first few expeditions, before he knew better. That was the work that introduced him to the woman who he would fall in love with, Natsuko. She was different from Enrique, she was from Neo-Tokyo, born with a Yokai Gene and well educated. She was a manager, Enrique always said he fell for her because she was the only one of the managers who bothered to remember the names of the people doing the dangerous and backbreaking work, though if pressed he might admit was because of her charms, her Yokai Gene gave her the ethereal appearance of the classic Yuki-Onna apparation. Together Enrique and Natsuko hatched a plan for the rest of their life. She'd work her corporate job for a while and he would keep doing construction work until they had enough to start up a cybernetics shop together, he could handle the labor and she could handle the management. It wouldn't be a ticket to riches but it would offer them something rare in this world: freedom, a way to earn a living the way they wanted, free from corporate overlords and brutal contracts. Somehow it never bothered him that he'd be selling cybernetics despite having the very few himself; this choice wasn't because he feared them, it is because he was worried too much chrome and it's YG repellant properties would make it hard to care for a wife and eventual child that bore the gene. The journey to get there wasn't easy, Enrique never heard the details but apparently Natsuko's family was hostile to it, and although Enrique's own was not against it, they kept asking him if he was sure. The plan was all going well, Natsuko and Enrique were well on their way to building a life together, they were married (by common law, the official paperwork wasn't done), and they had a child on the way. It all changed one night, one snowy night when Enrique could not sleep and he did not know why. He lied awake, and out of the corner of his eye he saw something, he saw Natsuko disappearing out of the door. He called out to her and she showed no reaction, he ran after her but all he could see was mist and fast melting snow. That was the last he ever saw of her or his unborn child. For weeks he hoped they would return, but as that turned to months he began to accept she was gone. Enrique had no heart for his old dream, and poured all of the money he had into more cybernetics for himself, until he was more chrome than flesh, until he had made himself into the most optimized worker he could be. He was without purpose and intentionally took the most dangerous construction work he could, things in active combat zones or deep into the brokenlands, no longer caring if he lived or died. Years went by and he survived. Endless overtime and dangerous work toughed his exterior even more, but left him with few close confidants. With the money and his own skill, he was able to accumulate his cybernetics without ending up crippling debt to a corporation, but not much else. After several years Neo-Tokyo ended up his home base even if it wasn't his favorite city, but it was the one place that never had a shortage of work for someone skilled and willing to take on the craziest jobs. His reputation brought him into contact with Tsuki, and he trusted her enough to end up being dragged along with whatever ideas she came up with.

Vampire: The Masquerade - Heaven Seemed Insane

Name: Grace Liu (current code name)
Age: 43

Appearance:


Bio:
Grace works for the government. That’s all she will say. Which agency? What clearance? What is her job exactly? Even her stepdaughter can’t get an answer out of her. She rarely shares much, and what she does share seems to shift over time, never adding up to a complete picture. She had a bordering on fanatical devotion to her job, but after near-nervous breakdown, she has worked on having a personal life.

Pure chance led to her meeting James Hawkins, and from their first encounter romance bloomed. James understood her in a way that no one else had, and after a few years they became husband and wife, and Grace became step-mom to James’ daughter Delia. As nice as her relationship with James has been, she does not always see eye to eye with Delia. While they both share a passion for science and technology, Delia is not a rule follower, and find Grace joyless and resents her presence in her life. Tensions eased a bit when Delia went to college, attending Caltech, while James and Grace moved to New Mexico. However, time at home is still tense, and as Delia considers dropping out of graduate school the disagreements have only further intensified.

Star Wars: Echoes of the Force

The arrival of the Blind Luck had the militia all abuzz with news of the arrival of the Jedi, disembarking the blind man slowly stepping the heavy metal he carried clicking along the ground. Codari volunteered to stay with the ship and get Goldie settled in while met with the research staff to go over their most recent findings. Varina had already vanished no doubt off with Mor’gann to work on her new weapon. Airus however, finally could get back to his passion... Research and archival, the Blind Luck had become a miniature library of sorts in the lower levels. Training, combat, and meditation were things he did well, better than most many of peers yet... To turn the pages of a book or dig through hundreds of different symbols to decipher a language was truly invigorating.

Striding across the landing sight towards the temple, whispers and discussion from the locals filled the air. Jedi were a myth since the Empire had come and gone... Now they saw a blind man in robes clutching a metal walking stick, how was he supposed to be some galaxy saving Knight fighting for peace?

A couple of small freighters sat around as Airus tilted his head, expanding his sight to encompass more of the building. Feeling the strength of the energy. “...It has been too long since I walked through the halls of a great place like this.”

Raskta was still in the ventilation ducts, wracking her brain about what to do about the unexpected arrival. Her most suspicious equipment had been left in a corner of the ventilation shaft, save for her force pike. She didn’t want to be unarmed, but also knew how suspicious it would look to be carrying one, so she set to work reattaching the casing that concealed it as a walking stick along with the rest of her hiking gear. That was much easier to explain than a force pike. She tried not to make much noise while she did so.

Airus slowly came to a stop underneath the ducts turning his head upwards slowly, cocking his head quizzically. A lazy smile formed as he lifted the staff, striking it softly as if to gauge her reaction. “Hello there young lady.” He spoke lowering the staff to rest his hands upon the top of the beskar item. His blindfold covered eyes staring right up towards her hiding place. “I’d love to know how you got yourself in there... On purpose or an accident?” He asked unmoving as the smile remained. “Then again perhaps you chose a life beyond most Echani... Repair technician.” Joked the Jedi as he waited to see if she would emerge.

Once she saw the jedi logo on his robes she knew who it was instantly, there weren’t many Miraluka jedi even before the purge. Airus, cunning enough to survive the purge, dangerous enough to kill three inquisitors. He was never top of the list of most-wanted Jedi but he was on there radar long enough that Raskta had read his name several times during her ritual of reviewing intel in the downtime between missions. She had never met him nor anyone who knew him, but she placed enough faith in the authors of the intel reports that their assessment of him was accurate. It was a bad idea trying to hide from a Miraluka, and an even worse idea to try and fight when you had only a narrow window to actually attack from. Satisfied that she had done enough to hide anything suspicious, she decided to try diplomacy. Shifting naturally into a casual, joking style of speech, she said

“Ehhh, I guess you could call it happy accident? I was just looking around the area and like, decided to do some urban exploration y’know. I got good vibes. People on HoloNet keep sharing “aesthetic” holo-images of this temple, so I got interested. Then I got here and saw that there’s whole nutso network of tunnels and no one ever shows this. Could be a gold mine of content for my followers on InstaHolo.”
Then Raskta began to climb out of the tunnel, pushing away the piece of the vent she cut, while she remember the details of one of her most reliable cover identities, one that hadn’t been completely blown yet.

“My name’s Raskta. Anyway, I’d be a bad repair technician anyway, sometimes clients come to me with questions about maintenance and I just have to bluff until I can pass them off to someone else. I tell them why they should buy their weapons from us, not what to do with them afterwards. Kinda wish I could go back to my sport dueling days, but that’s a young person’s game.

Luckily for her cover story, there were literally millions of Echani women named Raskta in the galaxy, many of which had been involved in dueling also. She remembered one tournament she won where everyone that made the podium had been named Raskta. That was an awkward moment.

“Interesting... Well Miss Raskta, I am Airus Vel Aath, here to assist the New Republic in their research. These old temples are dangerous, plenty of traps and dangerous creatures live around them.” He paused for a moment the tall and well muscled Miraluka smile slowly moving away. “I suppose we could take you to the proper authorities... But then again it would hardly mean anything.” He spoke, twirling the beskar staff as he stepped back from her. Taking a moment to soak in her aura.

The shifting layers of her soul blended then distorted in an array Varina had told him reminded her of colors.As she spoke layers of it shifted yet again affecting his perceptions of her emotions, she was lying and doing it well... Her mind was well taught and sheltered so no striking there to reach out for her thoughts. What he could tell was that there was an anger and passion at her core that troubled her. He decided to play along for now.

“Well if you are looking for things to get you fame across the holonet. A Sith battle hydra might be a place to start; they are known to live on the planet.”

“Or maybe you could show how the folks who took down the cruel and destructive Empire have tried to remember the fate of the Alderaanians who had no protection from the battle station the Empire unleashed?” He spoke, trying to rile her up to sense out what she was hiding certainly though he’d have to push her buttons... Even selling the bit he sat down his staff against the crates left nearby. “After all this is the place where the Empire was humiliated and the Tarkin doctrine was dealt the mortal blow. You could even say it was the place where hope for a better galaxy was born.”

This was not normal. Nothing about dealing with a force user was. Her mind didn’t feel right, like someone was trying to pull things out of her, and emotions that were normall suppressed were running free. It was useless to try total concealment, but if you could not hide from the enemy, the best thing to do was to confuse them. So Raskta channeled her real anger, her real emotion and launched into a careful rant.
“I guess this is your idea of an enlightening chat, trying to get me riled up to “know thyself” or whatever. Guess you missed the feeling of this from those empire years so you’re trying to make up for lost time? There was a time when I would’ve had more to say about all this, about the events that happened here, a time when I believed any of that stuff I had a point. But that ain’t me anymore, and I’m not going to give you the dignity of an answer or an explanation.”

She was standing at her full height now, face to face with him, glaring up at eyes he did not have with one hand gripping her walking stick tight. There was real emotion behind what she was saying, but careful hiding of the actual core of it all, what she actually cared about.
“I’m sure you’re still dying to hear me talk, so I’ll go out and say it, Fuck Alderaan. Fuck Tarkin, Fuck the rebels, fuck the empire, fuck all of that shit. I don’t care any more. You can’t get me to care any more. Who the fuck knows how many are dead and all of the average person cares about is that they’ve got a new flag, a new boss, a new overlord to ask for handouts from. Until anyone in the galaxy shows me a reason I should give a shit about them, until someone shows that they actually give a shit about accomplishing something other than living life on autopilot, I don’t see why I need to bear the burden of caring about them. So I’m going to go on my life and doing all this stuff you call vapid shit and just working on scrounging up more credits and enjoying my life until I see an actual reason I should wake up and give something my respect. Betcha’ don’t get much of that wisdom hiding out on your mountain for thirty years, eh force toucher or whatever you call yourselves?”

Airus spoke, recoiling slowly at first then changing his own tune. “Ah yes. The ‘nothing has changed crowd’ perhaps for the folks who lived on worlds that were always productive and willing to ignore the pain of others.” He circled around here. “Miraluka, my people. Were forbidden to leave our homeworld and colonies under penalty of death. Mandalorians are a strongly independent people forcibly made to serve the Empire. Twi’leks, Wookies, and more are forced into labor camps.” He never raised his voice as he stepped in circles around her.

“When people who spent ten thousand years defending this galaxy from terrors and horrors needed them. They all abandoned the Jedi in the name of a man who took power for himself.” Airus' voice never took on venom. “Sidious was a cancer upon the galaxy, like all Sith are when they build their empires.” He stopped as his hand rested on her own staff a moment. “And as for your outburst... There is some truth. But... This staff? Is not what it appears. So... Why don’t you be more honest. The war is over, the Jedi live. The Sith have perished.” He spoke, stepping back and pulling his beskar staff to himself.

She turned away, fiddling with her datapad, just in her messages app, pretending she didn’t care. After he finished speaking, she put it away and said

“How about you worry about your stuff and I’ll worry about mine. I don’t even know what a sith is and I don’t think I’m interested in what you have to say about them. I’m leaving now.”

Raskta was standing close to him now, daring him to block her way.

“Well you're free to leave whenever... I’ll be here at the dig site when you want to tell where you got an Imperial Guard pike from... Sure it’s a lovely tale.” The Jedi answered slowly, walking away from her. Letting her know his own suspicions now, figuring it would be a good way to warn her. Echani, Mandalorians, Iridonians, and Jedi had all been called the greatest warriors in the galaxy many times. Yet when the Mandalorians waned after centuries of defeat, the Irdonian’s fell out of favor, and the Jedi had collapsed the Echani had finally taken that illustrious position for their own within the Empire.

Now of course, the Mandalorians were rebuilding and so were the Jedi... That title would leave them again. Airus knew it well, the Jedi had gained that reputation by defeating every single armed force over thousands of years and only the trickery of their long thought dead foe had finally brought them low. He kept walking thinking that this could be part of that born mentality to defeat opponents to prove strength... Though Echani did everything by fighting, even marriage if it was to be believed... Even Mandalorians had a more civilized system than that.

Raskta was relieved but didn’t want to show, keep up an air of annoyance as she walked off, shouting as she walked away.

“I’ll give you the story for free, since you haven’t been able to pick it out of my mind evidently. The pike is a prize for making the podium in short spear dueling at the Byss Invitational, 14 odd years ago. As for why I have it, same reason you have that staff that you keep clutching the center of, very specific grip, perfect width for a lightsaber, a lightsaber you don’t seem to have on you based on how every movement you make isn’t worried about drawing it from any of the usual places. Jedi stuff is deep in a bunch of weapon training manuals, mystical woo woo isn’t the only way to learn what someone is hiding. You are awfully paranoid for a man that’s got senses way beyond any of us average people.”

The fact about it being a prize was correct, and it was even another tournament with three Rasktas on the podium, though none of them were her. She had been busy that year.

Star Wars: Echoes of the Force

They picked the highest spot in the area for the DS-1 Memorial. The entire length of the trail up the mountain was lined with metal plaques listing names, they were now incomplete after the guards had gone and the locals had scavenged them for scrap, others remained but had been stained with anti-imperial slogans. The real memorial was at the summit, from the top of the mountain one could see for miles around, even the height of the temple below looked small. Near the final clearing there were several dozen Bronzium statues, honoring the highest-ranking officers and those given posthumous awards; every one of the soldiers killed during Skywalker and Solo’s raid was honored, as were all of the TIE pilots lost during the rebel assault. At the center, standing in front of it all was Tarkin’s statue, eternally frozen with an expression of smug superiority and standing rail straight, with the main memorial behind him.

Tarkin was a complicated figure in Raskta’s life, especially for someone she had never met personally. On a few occasions she had been in the same room when he was present for official occasions, and during her counterinsurgency days in the Storm Commandos Tarkin’s writings were practically gospel, his ethos left an impression even from a distance. At first she believed in it with her whole heart, the Tarkin Doctrine, rule by fear, savagery in service of civilization, brutality to create an order that could stand strong enough to protect all of the galaxy’s citizens, and all of the language about the great work that would enrich the lives of countless generations to come. Once that had been her view also, she probably would’ve bought in even without all of the ideological purity tests, and it was with her even when her unit was committing acts that would’ve been immediate grounds for execution under the Old Republic. Where it faltered was when she saw the end results.

Dankayo was a small planet, a colony out in the Shwuy Exchange, far from the cosmopolitan splendor of Alderaan, but it was one she knew intimately from a long, drawn-out counter guerilla operation. She had been part of the bloodshed and punitive measures but also the genuine acts of aid, setting up schools for the kids, safeguarding moisture farms from rebel raids, and delivering supplies to the areas ravaged by the guerilla war. But now, there was not one trace of her efforts left anymore, not a single lifeform above the microbial level left on the planet. A decision had been made far above her paygrade to cleanse the planet with a Base Delta Zero operation, her unit even having the honors of being the last imperial personnel to leave planet once they had finished the job of providing the targeting data. The most loyal had been evacuated beforehand, all of the rest were given no warning when the fire rained from the skies. The fleet in orbit didn’t stop their barrage until the crust of the planet was slag and the atmosphere had been burnt away, rendering any potential enemy elements fully and incontrovertibly neutralized.

A decision like that was incompatible with any of the lofty goals the empire preached, and she began to see what the rebels meant when they said the empire was built upon lies. Perhaps if she had stopped there, she might’ve even joined their side, but time with the Royal Guard had revealed a new truth to her: Tarkin’s rhetoric was built on contradictions, but Tarkin’s rhetoric was not the rhetoric of the emperor himself. In fragmentary speeches and texts that only the most loyal were allowed to witness she had pieced together the truth: the empire was never the end, it was never the goal, it was merely a means to an end. Palpatine’s public pronouncements were just another layer, and the empire was just his greatest implement for his truest desire, the pursuit of power and perfection above all else. In Palpatine she found truth, she found purpose, and in his power witnessed something that was genuinely awe-inspiring enough to devote her life to.

She took a moment to appreciate the memorial, having seen the renderings but never the actual finished site. It stood as a gigantic wall, tall as a wookie, seemingly flat but actually having an extremely subtle curve to it, matching the curvature of the death star itself, as if this piece had been ripped from the hull. In a way, it was, all of the sections of the wall were created from recovered metal debris, now painted in all black, mimicking the darkness of space. Embedded within it were over a million tiny shards, shimmering and shining as the sunlight reflected off of them. These where pieces had come from a massive composite kyber crystal, one built as a spare for the death star’s superlaser, then pulled out of storage and cut into microscopic pieces for the memorial. Every shard represented one life lost, and with them all arrayed together the entire memorial looked as serene and wondrous as the night’s sky. At the center was a holographic terminal hooked up to a data bank with the names and information of every casualty, allowing visitors to find specific people and project their likeness upon the wall. She contemplated trying to find some of the Royal Guards who had perished in the list, but stopped herself because she never knew if someone could be monitoring the terminal.

Despite appearances, Raskta was not here to appreciate the architecture or reflect on her life decisions. With her macrobinoculars in hand she looked and made note of the layout of the dig site, which entrances had evidence of that they were in use, where the vehicles were parked, any power lines or other equipment set up outside the temple, and trying to keep a rough count of how many she saw around. There were signs that they had some type of armed guards around but nothing else lept out as odd, and after a little more surveying she was satisfied enough to make the trek down to the site itself.

She picked the least busy side of the temple to approach. After watching long enough to be satisfied that no one was around, she walked towards one of the ventilation grills outside the temple and knelt down beside it. Raskta was trying to not look suspicious, no outwardly visible weapons or armor, clothing that looked like a backpacker trekking through the jungle, but the next portion would have to be done quickly because it would look obvious to outside observers. She removed the casing that had concealed her Force Pike as a walking stick and got to work.

A Force Pike did not have the cutting strength of a lightsaber, but it was fine for something like the grill of the ventilation shaft. It even had an advantage for this purpose, the tip of it made cuts that were much thinner those made by a lightsaber, difficult to notice without close examination. With precision trained from a lifetime of dueling, Raskta made an angled slice to the edges of the grill, such that it could be removed by hand but would still lay in place when set. The plans had told her these vents were large, they had to be to supply an underground area as large as the temple had, and it was unlikely that any of the staff of the dig site was interested in them. Her macrobinoculars had a nightvision mode that let her see in the unlit ducts, so she crept from vent to vent and peered into the rooms of the temple complex. Raskta carefully recorded which ones were empty and which ones had evidence of the dig team, though she was unable to survey all of them.

After spending more time than she would like crawling through the ventilation ducts, Raskta only had two tasks left. First, she found a spot to place a cache of supplies she might need for later; she was undecided if she wanted to remain hidden or try to concoct a cover story for her next move, but either way it was beneficial to have a stash that didn’t require a trek all the way back to her ship to retrieve. As she began to emerge from the vent, she heard the noise of a ship touching down. Thoughts started racing in her head, and she decided not to step out yet, watching and listening as a group of people disembarked. It was difficult to discern much of anything about them from this position, so she focused on not making noise and contemplating whether it was better to find another exit shaft and continue her “curious hiker” act or to try and venture into the temple itself.

Star Wars: Echoes of the Force

There was a logic to the way the ship was organized, T1 was sure of it, but the reasoning was not anything that it could grasp at the moment. It was trying to understand it when Selene returned and warned him about the objects at the back, curiously, some of the one she had called out as dangerous did not give off any high readings for the energy signatures; building warships on Kuat meant dealing with fantastic amounts of energy but a droid’s sensors gave it a layer of safety that humans lacked, although there were always units where a sensor failure led to the whole processor getting fried when accidentally manipulating the wrong part of one of the lines feeding into a turbolaser battery.

They were already in space when T1 took a break from looking and spoke.

“Why did you warn me about that one? I’ve taken what you’ve said seriously, but I can not see what is dangerous about the objects you have collected in that section. It glows but I can not discern anything else worrying about it. I’m also curious as to the reason for visiting Yavin, if you are willing to share.”

It wasn’t clear whether she heard the droid, or not, the way her eyes, black in the shadowy lighting of the interior of the Wayfarer, stared through the thing as she stood at the end of the storage and its shelving. At least until the wicked, neon bright, grin spread across her lips like a shadow fell upon a lost horizon. Its systems would flutter and fluctuate in that exact, very, moment as the barest murmur of the Force reached out and touched the droid.

No matter how many scans, no matter how many internal log reviews, no matter the depth of the diagnostic, the droid would never know exactly how she went from standing where she was, to literally leaning into him, as if he had an ear for the whisper she gave him in the tone of secret truths.

“The universe whispers to my ears in dark languages, T1, the kind of languages that rarely survive,” in the moment the image of the coronation hall of the Summer Palace sparked to life like a fire in the back of her mind, the sight of cousins and uncles and aunts screaming and clawing at the doors that wouldn’t budge as Sela ir-Ramalla Vitaal, the seventh of her name, stopped being a victim of the galaxy and fate and greed, “I have spent my life following those whispers, and what that is, my inescapably strange droid passenger, is an echo. And in the appalling strangeness that is the blackness of this universe…even echoes can hurt you.”

After a few steps back, the grin was gone, it’s own echo of distant amusement still swirling in the ink pools that were her eyes in the back of the Wayfarer,

“Why Yavin?,” she shrugged, “just following whispers, T1.”

T1 had stopped looking at the treasures and turned to Selene. It had learned humans appreciated directional communication. He said
“Whispers, a quiet form of communication. Is this an aspect of the force? That it speaks, and its speech has the power to harm, and its speech can persist in this world? Forgive me if I am misinterpreting figurative language, most of my existence has been spent in the soundless vacuum, this may cause me to overlook subtleties.”

While it was looking at Selene, it was still checking the inventory of other devices, out of pure curiosity if Selene had picked up anything on this recent excursion.

“It becomes less defined, drifting off into the abstract…” She laughed, gently, as inner tension coiled up and snapped her right hand into her black, perfectly straight and silken hair, to push back with fingers so stiff they looked like they could snap combing through it in cathartic release, “everything is an aspect of the Force, and in the great juxtaposition of nothingness and matter, nothing is an aspect of the Force. Just know it’s like a place you simply should not be, T1, and the doorways will try to seal themselves shut at every opportunity.”
Sweetly, she smiled, “Simple, yes?"

T1 said

“Hard to say what is simple without understanding it. In binary we talk of simple as how much data it would take to convey it, with every trick in the book allowed. A million digits that are all zero is simple to describe, the first section of this sentence is an adequate substitute for writing the entire string. An exact description of a million truly random digits, following no pattern, that would evade any attempt to simplify it without losing some of the minutiae. I will attempt to keep my manipulators away from things that I do not understand in the future, I will make that pledge to you. Is there anything I can assist with?”

The chuckle was a ghost of a thing, barely there, “Learn some sarcasm, and,” she paused, really, really staring at the droid now, “get yourself in the best condition you can—you’re going planetside with me when we get to Yavin.”

The look on her face was cold, even if her eyes might have been apologetic, depending on the angle of the light and the play of the shadow to it in her eyes in that moment.

T1 began to run through the list of maintenance checks for planetary operation inside its mind and said
“Understood. Sarcasm was removed all droid brains procured by Kuat Drive Yards after an incident where a report of a quality defect that led to a warship’s turbolaser unintentionally firing upon a civilian population center was prefaced with ‘Great News!’”

Star Wars: Echoes of the Force

Her touch on the flight controls was gentle, measured. Raskta wished that she had the skills of the pilots she had known, those who made flying a true art, something they felt beyond the five senses. She was merely an amateur, knowing enough to handle basic maneuvers but far from sophisticated. The Echani had a saying, one that had served her well at all stages of her life, as a sport duelist, as a soldier, and as one of the royal guards: “Skill begins as slowness, matures to smoothness, and culminates in effortless alacrity”. So, as she took her ship on the journey from low orbit to treetop height, she did her best to make it slow and smooth, befitting the first stage of learning. It also wouldn’t do to damage the ship with a reckless maneuver; it was a technology demonstrator prototype from a line that never reached mass production, in truth she didn’t even know if there any others in the line still operational, and even if there were they would likely have different, higher-grade specifications.

A long descent gave time to survey the planet from above, and time for Raskta to contemplate. While at a stage that the autopilot could handle, she walked into the area she had set aside for meditation. It was at the tip of one of the long pointed frontal pieces of the hull, a place that had sat empty when the ship went from carrying her whole squad to just herself.

There had been nine of them. Three joined half-witted pretenders to throne, Admirals and Moffs that claimed to be Palpatine’s successor while having not one iota of his gifts. They had chosen their new masters based on who made the best offer in money and prestige, a pathetic notion. Two had gone out in a blaze of glory, staging reckless suicide attacks mere hours after they heard of Palpatine’s death. She respected them, sometimes even feeling guilty that she had not done the same, but she had lived to see how such thoughtless actions had resulted in no tangible gain for the empire. One vanished without a trace, rumored to be working as a mercenary or with New Republic Intelligence, both of which would only earn contempt from Raskta. One had chosen a path like Raskta, to live on and uphold the ideals of the empire, to stay in the shadows and look for subtle ways to ensure Palpatine’s dreams lived on. This path required utmost secrecy, and as such neither him nor Raskta knew how to find each other. Lastly, that had left the pilot, the one who had been everyone’s friend, and the last one Raskta had seen in person. He came to her with an idea that he had reached after much contemplation, joining the New Republic, pleading guilty and owning up to all of the sordid deeds that had been done in Palpatine’s name. He saw them as merciful and the only chance to live a different kind of life. It took all of Raskta’s willpower to fake agreement with it even for a few minutes, but that was enough time for him to unlock the ships controls and for her to stab him to death like the traitor he was.

Meditation was one of the things they taught her in the Royal Guards. They were strict about the method of it, all of the tenets were to be followed exactly and any questions as to why or where the technique came from were strictly forbidden. It began with focused intensity, concentration on any strong emotion, and letting the fire build inside. Then came the refinement, the desire to harness this raw emotion into willpower, to draw strength from it. Finally, came the moment for action, the clarity of purpose that came afterwards, driven forward by the innermost will and the ritual was complete. Some found it ineffective, some even loathed it, but Raskta found it to be a useful benefit. In her experience, it gave her a slight but noticeable performance increase after a session and was very useful for washing away any doubts she had before proceeding forward.

After finishing her meditation, she stared out the cockpit window and saw the Temple in the distance. She didn’t know what lay within, she didn't know if there would be others there, and she had only faint ideas of what the Sith was, but she went on because of one strong feeling. If there was anything like Palpatine left in the galaxy, if there was anything that could keep his legacy alive, it lay with whatever was left of the Sith. That possibility alone was worth risking everything, and her purpose was clear as she set the stealthy ship down on a ridge with a clear sightline to the ziggurat.

Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP]

Doctor Doom

---

What Etrigan gave him wasn’t useless, but it was far from a complete picture. The Spear had been in the hands of the government, some division of SHIELD that no longer existed, and was no longer in their possession. The informant’s access did not allow him to know much more. It did contain another useful nugget, that there was a branch of magical organized crime called the Blasphemy Cartel interested in acquiring it, and that Joachim Hesse, a dealer in illicit artifacts had started talking with them, promising he’d be able to assist. Whether Hesse knew where it was or was merely offering his skills in locating it was uncertain, he could even be lying to them, but Doom had no other leads worth pursuing.

Hesse considered himself something of an entrepreneur, one who had blasted out word about his business to every corner of the astral plane, even enlisting some extremely minor spirits as magical spambots. With a trail like that, it didn’t take Doom long to find the location of his sanctum. On the outside it was a converted industrial building in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

Tracking the man’s comings and goings was the first task. For those, Doom used a few strategically placed surveillance devices he built using an ESP32-CAM board, $16 for a two pack at MicroCenter. Although rarely displayed, Doom did have a practical side. The observations revealed that Hesse liked the feel of the city but did not conduct his actual transactions in his own home, his already shaky credibility might take a further hit if mystical guests spotted the Ikea down the street.

The next piece required more power, and so Doom turned to Nabu. He did not do so lightly. He invoked the power of the helmet and the great, billowing form of Nabu appeared before him.

Doom said.

“I would like to discover if you have the power to help with this. I need to see where this man’s magic has been.”
Nabu did not laugh but found Doom’s attempts to avoid humility amusing.

Nabu said.

“I can. You will need to see through my eyes if you wish to harness my magic for this. Are you willing to try that?”

Doom said.

“Do you think me a coward who would not be able to handle this power? Of course I am willing.”

So, Doom opened his mind to Nabu and began to feel his presence in his mind alongside him. It was a spiraling mass, reaching through all of Doom’s thoughts without even trying, and it took effort to avoid surrendering completely. But what it gave was wondrous. Through the eyes of Nabu Doom could see webs and strings connecting all things, invisible pieces of order that guided the world, emanating on every scale, from the stars above to the individual atoms. It was wondrous, like seeing something a thousand times more mesmerizing than a rainbow. The challenge was not finding Hesse’s traces, which was trivial, the challenge was not getting lost in the cornucopia of unknown sensations from everything else. Doom cut it off with a great display of willpower, and when he came back to normal reality it seemed so small even though he had only experienced this augmented vision for a mere few minutes. Nabu was still there and said.

“I am glad you see the value in my perspective.”

Doom did not answer him back.

The scroll had at least mentioned a meeting date and purpose, Hesse and the Blasphemy Cartel were going to do a joint demon summoning as a way of getting to know each other, prelude to additional business, maybe trade in a soul for a favor. The Cartel was due to bring the sacrifices, while Hesse was to prepare the space for the ritual. Once again, Hesse was loath to attempt complicated magic outside a familiar area, and thanks to his surveillance Doom had managed to find all four of the potential spots and lay a curse at each one. All that remained was waiting for them spring the trap.

In the warehouse Hesse and the cartel members argued about who would start the ritual. The cartel was willing to do it but only with Hesse’s guidance, he sensed they were not actually as skilled as they let on, and didn’t want to be caught making a mistake that they couldn’t blame on someone else. There was also the matter of whether the sacrifice should be done at the start or wait until talking with the demon. Finally, Hesse just decided to try the summoning on his own, telling the cartel members “Don’t expect the recipe”, because he was in no mood to help them after this mess. None of that would matter because they would all have bigger concerns.

The fire whirled and whirled, rising higher and bursting with beams of multicolor light, until a great explosion of lightning and smoke erupted. When it cleared enough to see, no demon stood before them, only Doom. He said.

“Doom needs no petty invitations.”

It became clear who were cowards and who had some backbone. All but one of the half dozen Blasphemy Cartel goons stood and fought, but their weak firebolts and bullets enchanted with minor curses simply bounced off Doom’s shields, completely ineffective. His return fire came in the form of bright flashes from his fingertips, perfectly aimed and each hitting with enough force to blow through the primitive wards on the cartel had cast upon their bulletproof vests. When his volley finished, they were all on the ground, even the one who had declined to fight, and Hesse was cowering in the corner. Doom turned to him.

“I understand you were trying to summon someone who would barter for your soul. How quaint.”

With a sweep of his hand Doom invoked the magical power imbued in this place and felt it surge through him, then gripped the very soul of Hesse. It surged out of him, and Hesse’s body went limp as the lifeforce was transferred into the vessel Doom had made.

“I acquire what I need without such trivialities.”

Now doom was satisfied but a nagging thought hit him, unsure if it was Nabu or the back corner of his own mind. He looked over the warehouse and found the people the cartel had brought in anticipation of a sacrifice, still locked in the back of a box truck. They were an odd mix, a pair of bums of the street, a refugee couple, and someone who looked like a crust punk, but all were equally terrified and confused. Doom sighed and opened a portal behind him. Through the other side the lobby of the department of social services was visible. He gestured and said.

“Go on, flee! And tell all who will listen that….”

There was a paused while he came up with the next line.

“Doom saves, and woe be to all who would harm those he protects!”