Grabbing onto Finn's shoulder, whether it was taut or not did not matter to the woman as she balanced herself off him. Body weight shifted as she chummed away on the cigarette in her mouth. She puffed a exhale of cancer towards Grayson Devola as her eyes moved over to the talking head. Taking one last inhale from the stick, she flicks the Stubb away into one of Auri's flower pots. Thankfully moist soil and burning ashes don't mix into a fire, right? She felt the taste of blood and iron return to her mouth as she spit off to the side of the floor, whether it was waxed and shined didn't matter anymore.
A crimson stain would leave its mark on the shop's floor like a forever pact of a certain coven long ago.
"Shut up Devola, go steal some painkillers for me. We'll call it even." She said looking up to him, face not swollen or severely discolored. A black eye, a healing face, a broken nose, and a soul unshattered. Eve had the face of a survivor, it was a hard look to shake from her.
Much like the history of this coven, much hadn't changed after all.
A familiar taste of metal oozed into Eve's mouth as she spit blood out, she couldn't pull herself out of the grasps of the dude who was holding her arms behind her in that neon lit parking lot of the Veni Vedi Veni. Wham! A punch grazed across her face as she recoiled from being slammed in the face by such a hammer fist. Spitting out blood she looked towards the oaf feeding her punches, she tensed up her arms wrenching against the guy who was holding her in place. Blood dribbled from her nose and mouth as she reactively spit on the biker in front of her.
"Fucking punk.." She muttered Wham! another punch across the bow left her head spinning again as her knees buckled but she was forced to stand up straight. "You think you can just scam our club and get away with it you little bitch!?" He was angry, big beard, shaved head the whole nine yards but no Judas. Eve blinked weakly as she looked back up to him trying to think of something witty to help her escape the situation. "...You take I-O-" Wham! that one knocked the wind out of her as she almost fell again only being stood up by the goon again.
Blinking tears out of her eyes she looked up as baldie reached into his boot for a knife, this definitely wasn't going. Moving her wrists she found purchase of grabbing onto the man behind her. Within moments he screamed out in pain, his skin growing frostbitten and cold as night drew over St. Portwell. Eve took her chance, running with the world spinning at her toes she ran towards the edge of the parking lot. The seven foot fence of freedom, she jumped and found her foot finding a hold in one of the spooled wired gaps. Reaching the top she felt a familiar, huge hand grab onto her!
"Gah! Fucker!" She said struggling, falling over the other side all the goon got was the MC colors she was wearing at the time. Left in her t-shirt and repairable jeans she took off. Way faster, and nimbler than the thugs that wanted her debt money and perhaps her life.
Oh right, the meeting.
Stumbling out of her small apartment, she did the best she could to fix herself up. Nose? The bone was set and held in place with a bandage. Cuts? Cleaned, and bandaged with polysporin. Scrapes on her arms? Washed out and covered by her clothing (not the ink, never fuck with the ink.) The trip to the Flowers and Canvas was one that would be taken by way of taxi, a popular mode of transportation in St. Portwell, almost falling out and paying her fare for the ride. Eve found herself at the front gates of heaven, or hell but ultimately it depended on who you asked.
A recall of memory, drama and more. She lined up a Grey Strike cigarette to her lips, her hands were a big shaky from an overdose of violence and trauma for the day. Lighting it with her blood-stained zippo lighter, the metal sounded dull without proper maintenance and care. She stumbled in, taking long drags of the burning tobacco. It calmed her, and for Mazzy Star it kept her alert. Alert that Eve was smoking, there was no actual evidence this helped Mazzy but she knew Eve was smoking.
Seeing such a big crowd, of faces she knew or thought she knew back then. Shit, it was a lot to take it.
"Sup... Who was the healer again?" Eve held her balance on a nearby plant for a moment as she edged her way over to the crowd of 'witches'.
She eventually placed a supportive hand on Finn's shoulder, surely he wouldn't let her fall?
She/Her | 28 | All-American | 5'8ft | 142.5 lbs _______________________________________________ Rebel. _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "I've seen and done things I shouldn't of." ___________________________________
[Boxing] ⫻ (Picked up after the battle of the Stygian Snake, Eve has become a regular at St. Portwell's Golden Gloves Gym.) [Crisis Negotiator] ⫻ (Eve has a way of will to get what she wants, striking deals and backstabbing others. She's very persuasive!) [Local Guide] ⫻ (Eve is well acquainted with St. Portwell all the factions that harbor within, she knows all the hot spots and the hot shots who run the show.)
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Looks can be deceiving."
Everleigh can be described as 'young' female at a height of five foot eight. She has some ink on her forearms mostly of anti-establishment type of tattoos and slogans. Eve is of a lithe build and is often wearing post-punk apparel still showing her roots are deep within a movement that long died in St. Portwellk, some might consider this anti-authority She is often seen wearing black spit shined boots or shitty sneakers, and jeans with the cuffs rolled up mixed with random band t-shirts.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Save your psycho-analyzing bullshit for someone who cares."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Total annihilation of rival groups to the 8th Street Coven, take control of St. Portwell for the betterment of humankind.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Life is too fleeting to give into comfort, safety and security, Eve learned that the hard way. Everyone could be a target, if things like the Stygian Snake exist then the world isn't the sun and flowers that was pushed in pre-school. This simple dogma tested from time is what Eve follows, survival of the fittest.
SECRETS ⫻ It's not common knowledge what the Kaiser's real name was, and being the daughter of a psychopath is something Eve doesn't want becoming public, for now.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Heterosexual, full stop.
FEARS ⫻ Being attacked for her father's transgressions, return of the Stygian Snake. Failure, being killed by 'Father Wolf.'
REPUTATION IN OLD COVEN ⫻ Happy, Optimistic, Driven. Kind of a hippie, nothing like herself now. Anyone who knew who from back then who sees her for the first time now might not recognize her.
ROLE IN THE BATTLE AGAINST THE STYGIAN SNAKE ⫻ Eve played a fluid role between support and offensive as her magic put her in a peculiar place, sometimes good and sometimes terrible. It made her unpredictable, deadly but also a haphazard wildcard.
FLAWS ⫻ Being closed-minded towards humans and those without magic, her inability to trust people. It's hindered her ability to communicate with others and build connections.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I lost everything."
St. Portwell was picturesque, a place you could live your life uninterrupted. That's how most of Everleigh's life went, with her brother Tyler and parents their lives for the most part were mundane. Though the Stygian Snake didn't discriminate on it's quest to godhood, the snake took Tyler from his family. Whether he was killed, consumed or turned into some kind of creature Eve never found it. She was here when it happened, when things changed forever.
The death of Tyler awakened something inside Eve, or rather someone. Mazzy Star had been watching, as apparitions do from the realms that they exist in. Mazzy saw within the emotions, the anger and sorrow from within Eve that she could be a guardian of the damned. Only someone with a pure heart and with the personal experience of trauma, and loss could understand and help the human plight. To better mankind and protect it, on that day going forward the two made a pact and became adjoined.
Eve wasn't the only one, stricken with grief or rage from the attack of this monster. A cadre of the damned began to form under one popular girl named Ashley Stone. Hell, they were all kids not knowing what the fuck they were getting into. All displaying magic of some sorts, connections to beings that didn't exist in this universe. It was a lot to take in, looking back Eve was the oldest but the others seemed to be so mature either through their trials and tribulations or trauma.
After the battle had concluded, it became clear to Everleigh that the magic of the apparition killer and beings like the Snake needed to be controlled. It was clear, that their demise would never happen due to things the young warrior could never understand. Regardless, everyone she had fought alongside with had been given a gift and she was sure they weren't alone. No one should be able to wield such magic, the thought of being a mundane human was fleeting considering what had happened.
One Coven member gone bad, think of all the people who would die in Portwell. All hell could break loose, the loss of loved ones. There were only a few answers to this question, Does anyone with amagic have to die or be sealed away or their magic would have to cease to exist? How could that be even achieved?
When it was brought to the group, the idea was met with hostility. Some believed they were gifted, some thought it was divine intervention. With the fall of the Stygian Snake these ideas had no place in the depths of group that existed to seal a demi-god using magic in which they received, from unknown magic themselves.
Eve left without a word, not that her brothers and sisters had changed, but she had.
Nathaniel Thorn for the majority of his life was a nobody, a financial accountant for a relatively obscure corporation in Portwell that carried on the day-to-day of the mundane. When the Stygian Snake was sealed something awoke in Nathan, a magic of sorts or calling but fundamentally the man had been changed for the worst. Someone who had never had a hateful bone in their body all of a sudden started to spew rhetoric, it would be found out it was nothing he believed in but affected persons in Portwell and the surrounding cities began to buy into the speeches eventually following the new, outspoken leader.
Eve being his daughter didn't have much of a say in the matter, her father appeared to have turned clerk to block leader within a matter of weeks. No longer bound by the Coven she once fought with she found herself falling into a newly formed Coven. The 8th Street Coven, ran by the unofficial fourth leader of the Sycamore, Emily Reed! She was rough around the edges, some would call her a bitch while others think she got the job done. Eve never had a problem with Emily, she knew how to take orders and while she may of came off as a bitch sometimes to her Eve knew the importance of their groups triumphed any drama that came. There were a lot of ups and downs through the start, but overcoming the groups in St. Portwell was apart of the challenge.
While the Dollhouse was relatively unknown, it's good practice not to poke a bear with a stick and that's what the Kaiser didn't account for. Unbeknownst to Eve, while this would free everyone in servitude to the group she would indirectly be responsible for the death of her father. Eve meddled with the Dollhouse's affairs and pinned it on Da Sonnenrad, this in turn united the 8th and Greenwood Covens. Once Greenwood and the 8th kicked down the doors of their last stronghold, Eve watched as "Night Sky” a member of Greenwood murder her father. It was traumatic, and devastating she was still his daughter despite what had happened and only a few people in the world knew the true game behind Nathaniel Thorn. It was a cruel but necessary evil to undertake, with the Kaiser gone a curtain of evil had been lifted, for now.
After the dust had settled she found herself alongside Emily once again, the Coven began a search for the apparition killer. Admittedly Eve and the others had their memories wiped, so it was like looking for a needle in the haystack. Leaving Emily to her search for the holy grail, Eve continued to run the admin work in the backend and continued to curate connections and network with other groups that aligned with the 8th Street Coven, all the while coping with the death of her father and the power shift in St. Portwll
Though the thought of the truth not being out there began to sink into Eve's mind, the Thorn Family weren't neo-nazis nor were they psychopaths. Sometimes power made people mad, but the father's sins were not that of the daughter. There was a growing feeling of injury towards Eve's pride that had been compounding since the death of her father, a feeling that she needed to prove to everyone that she was more than just a victim, a lackey, a nobody.
That's when Ashley died.
Auri Auclair recalled her, and others to meet. She'd give the meeting a go, but this was a past she didn't want to dig up nor fall back into.
All the Stygian Snake brought was regret, failure and trauma. If only she could seal those feelings away for good.
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "If it wasn't for Mazzy Star, I don't know where I'd be."
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Adjoined).
ABSTRACTION ⫻Temporal Synergy, the Abstraction grants Eve a different elemental ability depending on what time of day it is.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Everleigh is adjoined to an Apparition known as Mazzy Star, a woman who was a Red Adept in life. Mazzy Star has long forgotten about the person whose death spawned her existence, but she knows that this woman had a profound connection to the ebb and flow of the world. She seeks to guide and protect mankind and adjoins those she feels are worthy. At the very basest, Mazzy Star grants Eve a slow form of flight - she can fly about the same speed she leisurely walks. [You can decide Mazzy Star's appearance]
DAWN - PYROMANCY ⫻ As the morning light hits, Everleigh gains the ability of Pyromancy. Eve's pyromancy is as standard as it comes: she can generate fire, manipulate existing flames, and summon fire in her hand, shaping it into projectiles or complex forms. She can do anything from shoot fireballs, creating walls of flames, etc. However, this Pyromancy comes from the sun's power and is linked to it. When the sun is shining the brightest, her pyromancy is at its strongest - but at the nascent hours of sunrise, and when it's cloudy, it is at its weakest.
MIDDAY - AEROMANCY ⫻ As the sun reaches its zenith, Eve taps into the boundless currents of Aeromancy. She can manipulate the air around her, creating gusts that range from gentle breezes to powerful winds such as tornadoes and cyclones. Eve can create a barrier by creating an orb of rushing wind that deflects projectiles and prevents people from entering. By controlling the air currents around her, Eve can lift herself off the ground and soar through the sky at incredible speeds.
DUSK - TWILIMANCY ⫻ As the evening sun dips, Eve unveils a combination of Umbramancy and Photomancy - both tethered to night and day. Eve can weave and shape light and shadows in a concise range around herself (around two meters) and solidify these elements to create constructs. She can create whatever construction comes to mind and telekinetically maneuver these constructs to create weapons, barriers, etc. However, to utilize this elemental ability requires a gentle balance between light and darkness - there cannot be too much of either element.
NIGHT - CRYOMANCY ⫻ As the night falls, Eve can channel the night's chill and the frigid power of Cyromancy. It functions very similar to her Pyromancy ability she gains in the morning in that she can freeze the environment and manipulate existing light. She can precisely shape ice, create barriers and weapons, and freeze the environment with just a touch. The ambient temperature influences the effectiveness of her Cryomancy; in warmer surroundings, her control and raw strength weaken.
LIMITS ⫻ The first and foremost limit is that Eve cannot choose which elemental ability she can tap into at which time. It's entirely out of her control, and she may be stuck with an ability that is either useless at best or actively detrimental at worst. Eve's Pyromancy is directly tied to the intensity of sunlight. Her ability to generate and control fire is weakened in overcast conditions or during the early hours of sunrise. Eve can manipulate fire in a radius of around thirty-eight meters, however. Eve's ability to manipulate the air is interfered with by conditions in which the air would be polluted by elements such as smoke and dust. They interfere with it and make it far harder for her to control air, and her range is relatively short at around ten meters. To use her Twilimancy effectively, there must be a balance between light and darkness - if the area is too bright or too dark, she will be effectively powerless, and her range is short at two meters. Cryomancy's effectiveness is influenced by ambient temperature; Eve's ability to generate and control ice is less potent in warmer environments. If the area is humid, it'll interfere with her ability to shape ice precisely. Emotional-Fields prevent Eve from directly using any of her abilities on the Paranormal.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ The opposing element of fire is water, and water can quickly extinguish Eve's flames... which Eve is not immune to. If Eve is not careful, she can quickly burn herself, and outside fire sources can still burn her. Fire being present interferes with her Aeromancy ability, and using it excessively can cause shortness of breath and interfere with Eve's ability to breathe - going all out would cause her to pass out. Using her Twilimancy interferes with her ability to see; by using it, her vision will dim further and further until she is temporarily blind. Fire opposes ice, and like her Pyromancy ability, Eve is not immune to the cold in the slightest, so she can give herself hypothermia.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "This is some world ending shit, man."
Trey mentioned the fabled faction when the group arrived, for those not familiar with the intergalactic force. They are the arm of law enforcement that touches all of the land, eventually. Part military, part law enforcement and part government deathsquad they take souls and ask for little in return. The fact they are coming to Godfrey could mean an end to the rebel insurgency that is going on, but it could also mean the end for True Patriot as well. The Peacekeepers are more along the line of makers, three days was a tight timeline to find a girl on a dust ball.
Would they be able to do it?
Richard Demantis - Executive Business Agent, True Patriot - Godfrey
The dude in the ivory threads strolled over, flanked by a six-pack of True Patriot goons armed to the teeth in sand-kissed power armor. One of them even had a smartgun, decked out in more tech than a cyborg's wet dream. Ivory-suit guy, standing at a solid five-nine, surrounded by his army of corporate muscle, strutted up. Tilted his gallon hat like he's some rancher, shielding himself from the sun. Pale as a ghost, he was the type who manages mega-corp accounts in a godforsaken place like Godfrey. And here he was, meeting a ragtag crew of misfits.
"Howdy there!" Ivory man drawled out with a Godfrey accent, adjusting his suit and the mirrored shades glued to his face. Looked like he hadn't seen daylight in ages. "Welcome to the Town of Fiction. Name's Richard, I'm the TruePatriot rep in these parts. We got a legal leash on this land and everyone under it. Glad you swung by, 'cause things are a bit wild. Tourism's in the dumps, and workplace injuries are up. I reckon you're here on some important business, but getting out of Fiction's been a real pain thanks to the Guild throwing a tantrum."
"Let me roll out the red carpet for ya. Follow me; I got a ground shuttle that'll whisk us away to my branch's office. We can chat about a sweet business deal in these... challenging times," he tossed in, sounding like he'd trade his left arm for some outside help.
Descent onto Fiction, Godfrey-VI Inside a Rockefeller-4 transport, the atmosphere matched your expectations. Rockefeller, a con artist of the highest order, designed his crap for the dregs of society—the crooks, the thieves, and those scraping the bottom of the barrel. Trey, a card-carrying member of all three categories on a good day, gripped the shifter, guiding the transport onto a flight-path destined for the Township of Fiction's spacesport. A sorry-ass town caught between the crossfire of Planet Crackers and True Patriot. Trey's day job involved the passenger bay of this winged monstrosity, ferrying around four unlucky mercenaries for a gig with Gerald Meyer. Although Trey seldom kissed corporate ass, transporting a handful of mercs fell within his pay grade.
The backseat offered room for the quartet, smelling of stale smoke, with a hologram podium displaying a Julia Meyer slideshow. Each contractor had their face-time with Meyer, getting the lowdown. On a planet of grinders, a hippie chick like Julia would stick out like a sore thumb. The Rockefeller descended to the spaceport as TruePatriot cleared it for landing, hitting the ground with a satisfying thump. Landing gears shot out, ensuring a safe arrival.
Trey, a tall, scar-faced pilot in a leather jacket and flight pants, strutted out, his shoulder holster packing the kind of heat that leaves a lasting impression. He lit up an Angel Kisses cigarette, casting a glance at the ragtag bunch he just dumped.
"Listen up, peacekeepers are swooping into Godfrey in 3 days. I'm not orbiting this rock past that. Good luck on your quest, and... well, what do we have here."
Trey's eyes darted to the horizon, spotting a man in a white suit sauntering towards them, 500 meters out, flanked by a security detail.
Here documents the ongoing struggles and conflict on Godfrey-6, a planet that as put under turmoil and war due to a disagreement turned violent. Here documents the War of Godfrey's Folly.
WAR LOGS - ENTRY #1
I've started to keep a journal of the ongoing conflict between the International Guild of Planet Crackers and TruePatriot Co. The conflict broke down after TruePatriot used mercenaries to open fire on a picket at the tekk-smelting plant near the Town of Fiction. Ever since then the Brotherhood has taken up arms and began a guerilla war campaign. Hiding out in the desert wasteland surviving god-fearing storms that rip man and machine apart, the Corporation is bled dry by a 1000 cuts in the forms of strikes and skirmishes. While my identity doesn't matter I represent one of the many civilians caught in the bloody cross fire.
Fiction stands in the middle of the war, the largest town of the many spread out throughout Godfey it's controlled by TruePatriot and houses their soldiers. The populace carries on, or tries to even though their way of life has been changed forever. Restriction of freedoms came as soldiers died, mercs went missing and the Corporation lost the war. There is a room there could be an 'instant checkmate' on the horizon but these are just rumors from star ships cruising above.
There is a wind of change in Fiction, everyone is just trying to get by but the war isn't moving in anyone favor. What does death and despair bring? It's not joy or happiness, hope? Death brings more death, men die violently for ideals that have never held ground even back on Earth. A cease fire seems unlikely, either side winning will be a mountain of death behind it. For now, the people of Godfrey play their roles in The Great Game.
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