Lord Wraith

Vanguard: Calder City

<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>

Dusk doesn't control light... He controls shadow it's different.

@Colonel Sep

What are shadows if not the absence of light?

Vanguard: Calder City

Look, everyone should just be proud that I'm not making Spider-Man with the serial numbers filed off... again.

@Eddie Brock

Huh, so... if I did Doctor Strange with the serial number filed off...

Vanguard: Calder City

You guys know there are other powers, right?

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

O<sub><sup>nce was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.

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Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head

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afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man

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was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,

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over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though

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sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
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Now, he is the Warlock they call...</sup></sub>

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LOCATION: PRIMARY LOCATION - SECONDARY LOCATION

EPISODE NAME #1.01: POST TITLE

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INTERACTIONS: NONE

PREVIOUSLY: NONE

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat.

Vanguard: Calder City

Moved to CS Tab.

Vanguard: Calder City

@Colonel Sep

Aren't you almost every night too?

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

I'm going to be stepping back from both my characters to a purely administrative role for the foreseeable future. I've lost a lot of drive for writing canon reinterpretations at the moment. Happy to keep managing the game as the GM and reading along, but I just don't have the desire to continue writing at this time.

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

A R C H I E H A R D W I C K A R C H I E H A R D W I C K "It's not like I can point and say 'Avada Kedavra'... I tried that first." C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ FC: Matthew Gray Gubler | Dialogue: #C0C0C0 C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Archibald 'Archie' Erik Hardwick _________________________________________________________ 27 | Single _________________________________________________________ Lil'Santiago | American P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S _____________________________________________________________ __HEIGHT || 6-1" __WEIGHT || 152 LBS __BUILD || SLENDER __EYE COLOUR || GREEN __HAIR COLOUR || LIGHT BROWN A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T S, & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T S, & W E A K N E S S E S _____________________________________________________________ A B I L I T Y || N O V I C E W A R L O C K _________________________________________________________ [+] While Archie himself does not possess any extraordinary gifts, his abilities instead come from possession of a grimoire which was written by the infamous warlock, ZECHARIAH AUBER. A student of the legendary wizard, EMYRS, Zechariah was arguably one of the most powerful warlocks of the early twentieth century before his disappearance. His grimoire contains all of his experience and knowledge, which, with practice and caution, can be passed on to Archie or anyone else who comes into possession of the powerful book. The grimoire itself acts as a conduit between realities, time and space, allowing those who harness its arcane knowledge to summon and manipulate an extra-dimensional energy known as 'mag'ik'. A seemingly limitless power, mag'ik is not without its consequences and cost, taking a great toll on the wielder's person and the environment around them. Mag'ik always comes with a price, and the magnus is responsible for paying it. The mag'iks contained within the book are divided into three main categories: ALCHEMY, RITUALS and SPELLS. While these casting methods each have different requirements, mag'ik, too, is drawn from one of three sources. The primary source and least costly of all mag'ik is the DEEP MAG'IK, which uses the extra-dimensional energy to manipulate the Earth herself. Deep Mag'iks primarily rely upon the manipulation of the classical elements of Earth. New Mag'ik or URBAN MAG'IK is built around the elements of industry and primarily focuses on aedificatio (constructs) and the rhythms of cities and streets. The last, and most powerful form of mag'ik at the greatest cost to the mage is BLOOD MAG'IK, which draws upon the manipulation of life force, mind or even spirit of either the caster or those around them. Blood Mag'iks is addictive and destructive, often linked to curses and rituals, making it considered the darkest form of mag'ik. Even a maven warlock should hesitate to draw on Blood Mag'ik. Of the categories of casting, SPELLS, of course, are the most common tool of any witch, wizard or warlock. This form of diablerie is primarily cast either via incantation or gesture, though more complex spells may require both and/or even a conduit through which to channel the powerful mag'iks. There are six types of spells that a mage may cast, each with varying costs and efficiencies. CHARMS are spells which focus on altering appearances or perception. Like most spells, the complexity and duration heavily play into the casting requirements. Prolonged illusion or trickery is often bottled into a potion or an elixir for more rapid deployment, while something on the scale of warping a building or the perception of a crowd might require a ritual. CURSES are devastating spells built for maximum harm, often to the point of lethality. Curses are especially costly and can only be paid in blood, either of the victim or the caster. While ritual curses and poisons exist, the vast majority of curses are cast from hand, with few even requiring incantation. The curses which do not kill are often excruciating and leave those affected wishing for death. HEXES are the most common kind of spell and range from simply inconvenient to maliciously harmful. Like most spells, the duration of a hex can be elongated through ritualistic casting. A hex can be as simple as making someone trip to casting a fireball. Hexes draw from all three mag'iks and have the most varying degrees of cost which some simple hexes being free to cast from any competent magus. REMEDIES are spells which cure ailments and injuries. Most traditional remedies draw upon Deep Mag'ik to heal and aid those who have been injured by wrapping them in the Earth's embrace. However, modern practitioners have leaned into Blood Mag'ik, which harvests the life force of others for more rapid healing. Some believe Urban Mag'ik might provide a pathway between Blood and Deep, using new mag'ik to manipulate science and technology to heal and cure without the downsides of Blood Mag'ik and more efficiently than the Deep Mag'iks. SUMMONS call objects or individuals to the user, though at the spell level, these abilities are rather limited. Conjuring of objects also falls under this category. Though the cost difference between summoning a pen from across the room versus conjuring must be budgeted accordingly. Many summons actually require full rituals, which are further detailed below. WARDS are protective spells. Simple individual wards or deflective methods can be cast with quick gestures, while a perpetual barrier will require more intentionality and cost to create. Large-scale wards, much like summons, require a ritual to prepare. ALCHEMY focuses on the transmutation of ingredients and materials along with the transference of mag'ik into physical objects, elixirs, poisons or potions. These concoctions are created through great time and effort, which often requires the use of various apparatus. Such apparatus often includes alembics, calcinators, cauldrons, mortars, pestles, and even retorts. Some witches and wizards were known to use a pointed hat as a funnel to consume the vapours of their alchemy creations. Alchmey also covers rune writing and object enchantment, leading to dabbling in blacksmithing, calligraphy, and other metalworking or glyph writing. POTIONS are the default for many mages and come in a wide variety of effects and appearances. Potions rarely taste good and often smell even worse. Less refined than either elixirs or poisons, most potions are made in an open pot using a wide variety of ingredients. The more powerful the potion, the longer the brewing time and more exotic ingredients are required. ELIXIRS require more advanced tools to create and are often pleasant in aroma and taste. Sweet and generally positive augmentations, elixirs are a favourite among older wizards, witches and warlocks, with some even consuming them daily. POISONS are harmful concoctions that can range from a consistency and taste similar to an elixir to a salve or an oil for applying to weapons and objects. Most ideal potions are odourless and tasteless to avoid detection, and can inflict anything from illness to a curse to death upon those afflicted. RUNES are inscribed or engraved characters laced with mag'ikal effects once touched or invoked. Runes are often spells written out either in a single character or a longer inscription. Some runes activate based on proximity, such as barriers or traps, while others require a verbal incantation to activate. Runes can also be used to enchant objects or to add an enchantment to an object that was not previously enhanced. ENCHANTMENTS are materials and objects that are forged with mag'ik imbued into them. While any object can have a rune inscribed on it, runes that are damaged or destroyed lose all mag'ikal ability. Enchantments occupy the very material of the object, meaning even a fragment or shard still holds power. Many mages enchant their personal conduits and clothes, personalizing their properties to complement their abilities or weaknesses. RITUALS are the most powerful form of casting, the most costly and the most time-consuming. In addition to the materials and time, rituals require specific sites and very precise steps. Many rituals require more than one mage, making them even harder to cast. Furthermore, rituals send out ripples through the mag'ik, alerting other casters of their happening and drawing unwanted attention to the original caster. Rituals are highly complicated and unpredictable ceremonies which are recommended only to be used as a final result or with enough preparation to cover all bases. L I M I T A T I O N S || C O S T & M A T E R I A L S _________________________________________________________ [+] While some of the Grimoire is translated into English, much of it is written in languages that Archie does not possess even a passing familiarity with. The most ancient of texts are recorded in a combination of glyphs and Aramaic. Much of it is also written in Ionian Greek, with only a few passages actually recorded in Latin. There are even several pages that bear Ogham rubbings. All this to say that one of Archie's greatest limitations in using the Grimoire is his ability to comprehend it. Beyond this, as previously reiterated, all mag'ik comes with a price. That price increases exponentially with more dangerous spells, alchemy and rituals. This price can range anywhere from actual wealth to Archie's own life force. Given his limited resources and previously mundane life, Archie doesn't have access to a lot of desirable materials to pull off spells with even a moderate sphere of influence or those with direct lethality. Many of the materials required for both alchemy and rituals are exotic or incredibly niche, further locking Archie out of these practices at this time. W E A K N E S S E S || S E L F - T A U G H T _________________________________________________________ [+] At the end of the day, Archibald Hardwick is a mortal human with little to no experience in either physical altercations or mag'ik. Archie possesses no enhancements via the Grey and, as someone only beginning his journey into the arcane and macabre, is still very naïve with a gross amount of insecurity that cripples him in every aspect of his life. Furthermore, Archie possesses a large chip on his shoulder that's easily exploited to goad him into acting against his better instincts. Archie constantly has something to prove, to the point of being overbearing and overzealous, so people see him as actually worth their time. As an emotional wreck and lacking any augmentation or enhancements, Archie is a very vulnerable, if not volatile, individual. Mag'ik itself suffers from several weaknesses and drawbacks. As previously touched on, the cost and penalty of insufficient payment can be devastating to the caster, more so than to the target. Archie could likewise end up completely defenceless without proper means or abilities to cast. Mag'ik isn't without its twists and fine print either, meaning some spells operate as a double-edged sword. Being gagged and bound, more or less removes Archie's abilities to cast, along with being disarmed of his conduit, or even more blatantly at this point, the grimoire itself. Wounded or otherwise weakened also impacts Archie's ability to cast. Both alchemy and rituals require time and precise steps to enact, and an interruption to either will cause them to either fail or backfire spectacularly. Summoned or conjured creatures and people can break free of Archie's will or even overpower him. Every time he casts, he opens his soul to corruption from the other dimension. Lastly, to another warlock or mag'ik wielder, Archie's essence is desirable as an easy power-up, absorbing his abilities into their own and leaving Archie little more than a zombie or revenant. T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... __________________________________________________________________________________ Archibald Hardwick is a loser. Raised in government housing and on food stamps, Archibald, or Archie, never had a chance at leading a life of privilege. His childhood was spent with elderly neighbours whose homes smelled of decay and ammonia or in the company of young teenagers barely old enough to care for themselves. Though a quiet child, Archie's temperament gave pause to many as the infant could go from calm to inconsolable without warning. As language developed, he would repeat the word 'dog' frantically, while pointing in seemingly empty directions. It was to no one's surprise when Archie was eventually taken away from his parents and put into the foster system. A system that was not kind, and Archie's only escape from the reality he found himself thrust into was through books and comics. As a very young child, Archie spent several years in the care of St. Dymphna’s Home for Wayward Youths before being placed with a home. Before the age of five, Archie was settled into a foster home with a pair of aging parents who provided him with enough to be elevated from his previous living condition, but never surplus or luxury. These things would prove elusive in his life. Nearly as elusive as friends would be. Between abandonment issues and his time in foster care, Archie's social skills were stunted from a young age. He hadn't learned the playground dynamics, and to others, it made him strange and off-putting. Still, it never stopped Archie from trying, and eventually he managed to strike up something akin to a friendship with a girl on his street by the name of Harriet Lynd. Archie was immediately smitten with Harriet even from a young age, and while the girl never explicitly abused the privilege, it didn't stop Archie from bending over backwards to help her, even to his own self-detriment. Archie's love of reading manifested at a young age, and his foster parents leaned into it, providing Archie with a library card and ways to retrieve and return books. Without any siblings to play with and without the attention of doting parents, Archie found everything he needed through stories, which only grew in complexity as he matured from a child into an adult. But it was the escape that drew Archie in the most; he took on the mannerisms of characters he adored and inserted himself into their lives. Lives where he wasn't alone, he wasn't poor, and he certainly wasn't weak. Calder City did nothing to curb Archie's aspirations for a life free from everything that was pulling him down. Scarcely a day went by that he didn't look to the skies and see some manner of superpowered individual using their gifts. The very gifts that Archie longed for. In his pre-teen years, Archie began putting himself in harm's way in order to be requested by a Grey in the hopes their abilities would prove to be contagious. This behaviour would put him at odds with his foster parents, who had on more than one occasion threatened to return the boy to St. Dymphna’s if he did not get his act together. Even into his teenage and adult years, Archie's love of reading would remain a persistent trait in his life. It developed into a studious nature, which, paired with Archie's desire to free himself from the situation created by his parents' financial failings and his foster situation, made him a stellar student. Archie excelled in academics, graduating with honours from every institution he attended before finally landing a job in corporate law, which, for the first time in his life, provided him with financial stability. But, for Archie, it still wasn't enough. Even into adulthood, he had remained a social pariah. Archie had a reputation for being a dedicated and hardworking employee, but he also had one for being eccentric and antisocial. In his pursuit of financial freedom, he had eschewed all personal relationships, resulting in a lonely, completely unfulfilling life. Devoid of relations with parents he had never bonded with, Archie never learned how to build relationships and other meaningful relations properly. He had stood on the sidelines and watched bitterly as Harri developed other friends, lovers and a circle that no longer needed him. Him, Archibald Hardwick, the loser. It felt like a perpetual cycle of misery. ________________________________________________________ "For the first time in my whole pathetic life I finally have real power. Do you have any idea what this feels like? People want to be around me, people want to be me. I swear, I even saw a woman checking me out and not in the 'gross, he wore that to work' way, no, she genuinely was looking at me like a piece of meat. Like she actually wanted me. Do you know how long I've waited for that? So, no. No, I am not giving up the book; the book is finally giving me what I've waited my whole life for. A chance to break free, a chance to even the odds. I'm a new man, and there's no way in this life or the next that I am ever going back to being 'Adorably Pathic Little Archie.' It's time for the world to meet the new and improved Hardwick." ________________________________________________________

Resentment follows Archie like a dark cloud over his head. It felt like his life had been constantly plagued by bad luck. Lending to his eccentric reputation, Archie had what some would consider to be a crippling case of superstition and severe obsessive-compulsive behaviours that led to him seeking counsel and therapy. But no one had ever been able to help him. The dog from his infant years had never disappeared. Despite seeking help, as far back as Archie could remember, he had always been followed by a black dog, not unlike a grim or a barghest. No amount of cognitive therapy had ever made him stop seeing the creature. Everywhere he went, it was only a matter of time before the shaggy black dog appeared in the distance, its haunting eyes and dripping jowls staring back at Archie. Though by adulthood, Archie had grown numb to seeing it. The creature often disappears after a few deep breaths, but it always returns. Unbeknownst to Archie, his life was about to drastically change. Stumbling into possession of a dusty tome. Archie would discover it to be an ancient grimoire sealed by powers unknown. But despite knowing every trope, Archie couldn't leave it alone and as the book ceaselessly whispered his name, the loner allowed himself to be drawn into its grasp in exchange for power and status.

M O T I V A T I O N & G O A L S M O T I V A T I O N & G O A L S _____________________________________________________________ "With absolute power, comes absolute corruption." The story of Hardwick is going to take familiar story beats from classics such as 'Aladdin', to forgotten cult films like 'Chronicle', with a healthy dose of 'The Magician's Apprentice' added in. For Archie, his greatest motivation is the desire to be known, to finally be somebody to someone. His parents did irreparable damage to his psyche from a young age, leaving him with insurmountable insecurity and severe abandonment issues. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S __________________________________________________________________________________ S U P P O R T I N G C A S T ________________________________________________________________________________ [+] _ALISTAIR MAYHEW _______________________________ Face Claim: John Glover | Dialogue: #000000 Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat. _CARMILLA MORGAN _______________________________ Face Claim: Kat Dennings | Dialogue: #000000 A bartender at the Haunt, Carmilla Morgan, is a relatively fresh face to Archie, having only been recently introduced after a scuffle with Jake Longo. A native of New Orleans, Carmilla moved to Calder City for a fresh start, finding work at the Haunt, which has been less than lucrative for the raven-haired dame. _FINNEGAN FLYNN _______________________________ Face Claim: Tom Hiddleston | Dialogue: #000000 Finnegan Frederick Flynn Was born of his father's sin The son of a whore whom the world wanted no more Taken to the Crossroads to die Instead, sold to the Father of Lies For beauty and gold, all so that his mother may never grow old Such was the woe of Finnegan Flynn _HARRIET LYND _______________________________ Face Claim: Kat Graham | Dialogue: #000000 A childhood friend of Archie's, Harriet or 'Harri' has long been the object of Archie's affections. Harri grew up across the street from Archie and had everything he had ever wanted, doting parents, adoring friends and most of all privilege and wealth that afforded luxuries which escaped him. This continued into adulthood as Harriet was able to spend much of her free time partying in post-secondary which Archie was working. That never stopped him from picking her up anytime she needed a ride or being there to hold her hair after one too many. Despite his obvious affections, Harriet has never seen Archie as anything more than a friend. _JAKE LONGO _______________________________ Face Claim: Joey Lawrence | Dialogue: #000000 Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat. _THE AMERICAN DRAGONS _______________________________ Face Claim: Green Dragons | Dialogue: #000000 Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat. _THE GRIM _______________________________ Face Claim: A Good Boy | Dialogue: #000000 Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat. _THE MAGICIANS' RING _______________________________ Face Claim: Stock Image | Dialogue: #000000 The Magicians' Ring, or 'The Gentleman's Club', is a distinguished and exclusive secret society of Mag'ik wielders whose existence dates beyond written history and into oral tradition. Functioning as the governing body that oversees and regulates Mag'ik use, the Magicians' agents or 'Nephews' operate remotely throughout the globe, monitoring for threats either created by Mag'ik or the abuse of Mag'ik in the wrong hands. The Magicians are covert agents typically attired in tailored, black suits. Senior operatives are referred to as Uncles, while field agents are typically called Nephews. Traditionally, the organization has been overseen by a power witch who acts as the organization's director and is often referred to as 'Mum'. While known to cooperate with Vanguard, the ancient cadre of Mag'ik users is more than leery of the modern organization and, while cordial, does not rush to ally itself with Vanguard and is more than ready to oppose the government-condoned group should their goals no longer align. _ZECHARIAH AUBER _______________________________ Face Claim: Henry Cavill | Dialogue: #000000 Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat. S T O M P I N G G R O U N D S ________________________________________________________________________________ [+] __ POINTE BORDEAUX Located on a peninsula sitting in the Calder City Bay, Pointe Bordeaux is a thriving, colourful borough. Known as the ‘Neon City’ to locals and tourists alike, the borough shares a lot of influence from both Miami and New Orleans, having a thriving club and nightlife scene. To many, Pointe Bordeaux is an escape, a break from the stress that life often brings as they get lost in the clubs along the coast. The borough makes most of its money officially on tourism, but it thrives on drug money from the cartels of the South. Rampant with crime, if you go missing in Pointe Bordeaux, no one bothers to look for you. Among Pointe Bordeaux's more notable attractions are The Haunt, a popular hangout spot on Milk Street. However, the La Petite Mort in the Lonely Hearts Club also gets its fair share of traffic for very different reasons. __ LITTLE SANTIAGO Lil'Santiago or Poor Lil'Santiago, sits near the industrial and port districts of Calder City. Little Santiago is an ethnic district with a distinct Caribbean flair, influenced primarily by its proximity to the ports and the sea. There's also a notable hybrid of Spanish and Italian influence that is mostly apparent in the district's distinct housing style. Many cultural events are celebrated in the streets of Little Santiago, and live music can also be heard down every block as the smells of the Caribbean waft through the air. __ MILK STREET Once home to the city's milk bottling factory, the Milk Street has become known as something of a 'hipster' neighbourhood with old factories converted into clubs and dive-bar concert halls. A common alternative for students and young people to the Sound, the Milk District offers a completely different feel, much more down-to-earth. Due to its slight distance from the center of the city and the old bottling factory, it serves as an ideal location for music festivals for alternative and indie artists. __ THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB Found just East of Little Santiago, the Lonely Hearts Club has a lot of draw for what it lacks in appeal. Flashing neon signs of 'Girls, Girls, Girls', 'NUDE,' and 'XXX' cover nearly every commercial space in the neighbourhood, and the street corners are never empty. Filled with the washed-up and washed-out, the Lonely Hearts Club is home to many small pubs, strip joints, casinos and brothels. Alcoholics stumble from dive bars, along the sidewalk as they make their way to their next drink, drug addicts sit in alleys, half conscious with needles still pressed into their arms. Most people are advised to steer clear of the neighbourhood unless they want their pockets lightened. __ GAGNIEZ Modelled after the famous Las Vegas Strip, the Gagniez is home to all manner of hotels, clubs and casinos at which you can try your luck. However, luck isn't the only thing that's available to try in Gagniez. Those with more carnal desires can find their urges sated to the East near the Lonely Hearts Club. In all of Crescent City, Gagniez is the pot that has more hands dipped into it than any other, as nearly every major crimelord has a share of its spoils. Gagniez is located in the North-Eastern side of Pointe Bordeaux near the border of the Industrial Lane, making it a favourite pastime for shift workers. __ THE HAUNT A former bottling facility on Milk Street, the Haunt is one of Pointe Bordeaux's most popular clubs. Styled in a neo-industrial aesthetic, the club is home primarily to DJs and post-electronic and trance music. Strobes and other coloured lights are often the only form of illumination in its dark interior, while an illuminated dance floor is surrounded by an alley of booths on the lower level and various small tables on the overlooking balcony. A rooftop patio opens the club to the lights of Gagniez and the view of the Calder City skyline from the peninsula. __ GALLOWAY'S EMPORIUM OF ANTIQUITIES A long-standing antiquities shop. Galloway's is the ultimate place to find a unique present for that hard-to-buy-for person in your life. Of course, there's a good chance that it's also cursed, considering most of the collection comes specifically from the homes of mages who finally either passed away or found another method to shirk their mortal coil. __ THE RAVENCROFT ASYLUM AND INSTITUTE An asylum not far off the coast of Pointe Bordeaux, Ravencroft occupies a small island and is only accessible via boat. Home to the criminally insane and mentally disturbed, it's thought the neon lights of Pointe Bordeaux soothe the hysterical patients within its stone walls.

His foster parents constantly guilt-trip him and especially have become more manipulative as Archie has grown, matured and made something of himself. Archie is heavily driven by ambition, but it's an ambition that's poisoned by envy and jealousy. As the story unfolds, Archie is going to learn more and more from the Grimoire, uncovering its potential and power while also discovering its origins and the terrible secrets hidden between the lines. Archie will encounter other wielders of Mag'ik while also engaging with the wider selection of Greys that populate Calder City. This will be a story of one man's journey for power and the complications of downfall that come with it. P L O T S P L O T S _____________________________________________________________ I S S U E # 0 0 1 ______________________________________ THE GRIMOIRE [+] Or 'How Hardwick Begins'. When our young protagonist stumbles across an ancient grimoire written by a student of the mysterious EMYRS. Managing to unlock the powers within the opus, ARCHIBALD HARDWICK enters a world of the arcane, macabre, and otherwise supernatural. His mind seemingly freed from the mundane, Archie becomes intoxicated on his newfound freedom, not realizing that opening the book also meant opening the eyes of those who would seek it for themselves. Characters Involved: Hardwick Desired # of Players: TBD I S S U E # 0 0 2 ______________________________________ ARCANA MAJOR [+] Or 'How Hardwick met Mayhew'. Continuing to grow his abilities under the tutelage of ZECHARIAH AUBER's grimoire, Hardwick encounters other mag'ik users, including the eccentric MAYHEW, who takes him under his wing. Elsewhere, Archie's newfound confidence and power attract the competing attention of his childhood crush, HARRIET LYND and the mysterious femme fatale, CARMILLA MORGAN. For the first time in his life, Archie finds himself caught between two women, not realizing danger lurks over the horizon. Characters Involved: Hardwick Desired # of Players: TBD I S S U E # 0 0 3 ______________________________________ GENTLEMAN & SCHOLAR [+] Or 'How Hardwick joined the Magicians' Ring'. When a man calling himself UNCLE comes to Calder City, Hardwick finds himself pulled into a cold war between Greys and Arcane where neither side is willing to give the other an inch. Pulled into a world of international and mystical espionage, Archie finds out quickly just how little he know about mag'ik and the greater world beyond Calder City. Characters Involved: Hardwick Desired # of Players: TBD

"Holy $#!%, I'm a wizard, Harri!"_____

^{Character Sheet Format Created by @Lord Wraith, by using this sheet I am hereby giving credit to Lord Wraith.}

Commencement: A Farewell to P.R.C.U. [COMPLETE]

^{| Epilogue}

The smell of freshly cut grass wafted over the fields surrounding the once derelict building. Newly washed stone complete with brand new mortar and glistening modern windows reflected the light of the morning summer sun. A year ago, Lorcán had been sitting on a beach, wondering what his life would look like beyond Dundas Island and now, here he was, a man in charge of his own destiny.

His muscles ached and he felt pain in places he hadn’t experienced before. They had spent months turning Mather Memorial into a modern facility, using the best of Pacific Royal but in a way that fit the vision. The sun reflected off the crimson aviators that adorned Lorcán’s face.

Of course, like any new venture, there had been some resistance. Crestwood Hollow wasn’t exactly thrilled to be the home of a Hyperhuman school, and the smaller campus meant they had essentially no housing available for students to board on, meaning they did have to procure actual apartments meaning tuition couldn’t be offered for free. The limited space also meant they had to turn away more applicants than they could ultimately accept. For everything they had accomplished with Mather Memorial, it still wasn’t Pacific Royal.

And maybe, maybe that was a good thing.

They had just finished the outbuilding, a small space for the arts. Aurora had suggested they call it the ‘Galahad’ after Gil. Lorcán happily agreed, looking towards the sky, sadly smiling, knowing that somewhere, beyond a Conjunction, his friend was still watching. His thumb twirled the rose gold band that adorned his left ring finger, before opening the palm of his hand and looking at the rune still etched into his skin. Ünterland had left its impact on all of them, but it had given Lorcán the blessing of meeting his sister.

For that, he felt more whole than he ever had, even if Ünterland had also taken from them.

Amma had returned to Ünterland after it was all said and done. She had led the charge to finish Daedalus off once and for all. Saved by Gil's sacrifice and returned from the hell the Chernobog had exiled her to. But her powers were too vast for this world, and so Ünterland was the only place that could keep her and those around her safe. Back to the world below, she went, reunited with Gil.

It was bittersweet; she would know happiness with Gil. But Amma and Gil wouldn't be able to experience the next generation of Hyperhumans. They wouldn't meet any children Lorcán and Aurora had. They wouldn't grow old with their friends or classmates.

But they would have each other.

Lorcán looked towards the new coat of arms they had placed on the school. Tiamat, once a name used to control Amma. It was now the symbol of their perseverance and the school's mighty dragon mascot.

“Would you do it all again to end up here?”

Lorcán turned towards the familiar voice, removing his sunglasses, a smile forming on his face.

“Jonas!” He exclaimed, running towards the man. Jonas was younger than Lorcán was used to, clearly an apparition of a time before Lorcán was born.

“Hello, my boy.” Jonas replied, “The school looks exactly as it should. You’ve done well, you, Cassander, Aurora. I’m very proud of everything you’ve become.”

“I really wish we had found the deed,” Lorcán noted, looking West, imagining for a second he could see P.R.C.U. again. “That island was my home.”

“But now it’s not.” Jonas smiled, placing a hand on Lorcán’s shoulder. “Your home is with your heart. Whom I believe is on a refreshment run.”

“Yes, Aurora is in town.”

“Treasure the moments you have,” Jonas stated, “Winds are blowing, Ünterland is changing and soon that will come to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“This story is written, but there is a force out there seeking to alter time, and through it, changes will ripple. I do hope we meet again, dear boy, but I fear the next time we meet, you will not be as you are now.”

“Jonas,” Lorcán pleaded, “Please, speak to me directly.”

“I am Jonas.” He replied, “But I am not the Jonas you know. Your Jonas, Dr. Lehrer, he has ceased to exist within the turbulent tides of Limbo, and instead I find myself in his place. Crestwood Hollow has changed and I am burdened with the memories of multiple lives. I can see this timeline, messy and chaotic as it is, it also brought a lot of joy and life to those who were part of it.”

Jonas paused.

“But I see another timeline, I see a different P.R.C.U. One free of the struggles of the Alexandria Foundation, one who is caught between two worlds. Lorcán, my boy, this world already ended long ago, but I needed to prepare you.” He took another breath.

“Something new is coming.”

Lorcán opened his mouth to speak but Jonas stopped him.

“When it does, none of this will exist. You won’t realize you’re gone and in some ways, you will likely live on, having further adventures. Your Jonas would want that for you, I do too.” Jonas continued, approaching the Mather Memorial building. His hand tracing the original name plate, hung exactly where he had left it nearly fifty years prior.

With a swift, and directed tap, Jonas struck the plate, displacing it from the wall and revealed a sealed envelope behind it.

“I believe you were looking for this.”

“But everything you just said,” Lorcán retorted as Jonas handed him the envelope.

“Doesn’t negate the need for a happy ending here. You will be an amazing teacher, a great husband and an even better father. Pacific Royal will live on through you, Aurora, Cassander and all else who want it to.” Looking up at the restored building, Jonas smiled softly.

“Now you have a satellite campus.”

“But what good is any of that if reality is changing?”

“Reality might change, stories might repeat. But that doesn’t mean this doesn’t continue. It might no longer be a focal point, but we can’t deny that it happened. We can’t deny the ups or the downs. My old self treasured these moments with each and every one of you.”

“Do you always speak in riddles?”

“When it serves me,” Jonas replied cheekily. “P.R.C.U. is eternal, it has had many forms before and I’m sure it’ll have many more. Each is just as special as the last.” He paused.

“Except for that one time, but we don’t talk about that.” He chuckled.

“We’ve had numerous freshmen adventures, we fought against Hyperion and Daedalus, we’ve pushed the very lore of this campus to the very brink, and while I believe P.R.C.U. has more stories to tell, I think it’ll be a long time before we return to that island.”

“What of Crestwood Hollow?”

“That story is still being told, in fact,” Jonas held out a hand to Lorcán, “I think you should see something.”

Lorcán hesitated, taking a step away from Jonas.

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand, son, you can trust me.”

Cautiously, Lorcán reached out his hand until he took hold of Jonas. All at once the world around him disappeared into a vacuum. The darkness was unlike anything Lorcán had ever experienced as he was pulled through the very fabric between time and space. Even Limbo hadn’t been this disorientating.

Flashes of his life appeared around him, future moments with Aurora and their daughter. Instinctively he immediately knew her name was Bridget. He could see her stepping off the ferry onto Dundas Island. Her first year at Pacific Royal.

Lorcán’s heart swelled with pride for the daughter that he didn’t yet have. He saw Rory and Haven, he saw Cassander, Luce and Alyssa. Cleo, Lucas and Manny too had gone on to live happy and full lives. Some even with children of their own at Pacific Royal.

But then he was suddenly in the past. The Foundation flotilla was sinking, Haven’s final struggle with Daedalus finally ending victorious as her and Rory embraced before her wings took them to safety, finally free. Banjo and Harper both sacrificed themselves for their friends and Lorcán felt himself cry out at their deaths.

Amma's triumphant return from Ünterland in all its chaotic glory. Tendrils of crimson and silver exploded from her fingertips as she let loose a cry of war upon Daedalus, initiating the final assault on the Foundation's flotilla.

And then suddenly he was even further back. All over again, he got to experience his first night with Aurora, and then his first kiss. He re-experienced his first interaction with Amma, the bonding on their HZEs and the start of their unorthodox relationship. Suddenly he was a freshman again and then a boy. He saw his parents mourning Bridget’s stillbirth, he saw their joy upon learning they were having twins.

Lorcán saw Aiden meet Tori for the first time and he saw him mourn Vanessa.

No. Veronica.

No. It was Vanessa.

Veronica Rose-Marie Bordeaux.

“I tried to tell you,” Jonas’ voice seemed to come from all around Lorcán, “Time is changing.”

Lorcán hit the ground hard as the world around him suddenly became solid. The full moon overhead illuminated the damp forest surroundings. The smell of pine and hemlock washing over his already disorientated senses.

“Where am I?” He asked Jonas who crouched beside him. Raising a finger, Jonas pointed as Lorcán’s ember-like eyes followed his direction. Atop a nearby cliff stood a man draped in robes darker than the night itself. He cursed the moon above, chanting in a language unknown to Lorcán.

“Jonas,” Lorcán hissed, “What is this?”

“A new beginning.” Jonas whispered back the outstretched cloak suddenly collapsed to the ground, void of the body that had once been inside it. The moon above turned an ominous crimson as aurorae danced across the dark horizon. In the distance sirens began to echo as the far off lights of cities and towns disappeared into rolling blackouts.

“This is the Dark E-”

“The Long Night, this is the night Hyperhumans were born.” Jonas interjected.

“But I thought it was an accident.”

“No,” Jonas shook his head. “You were created. For what, I don’t know. You are not the result of a freak mutation. You are the direct result of intervention by one seeking revenge.” He paused, looking towards the blood moon above.

“Lorcán, you are Wraithborne.”

“Jonas,” Lorcán pleaded again, “Please, explain this to me. Why do you show me these things?” He stammered, grasping at his chest as he suddenly felt a sharp pull.

“That’s your body attempting to return to your time. I wish I could accompany you, but I must stay here. Your father is going to need me.”

“Jonas!”

“Lorcán, you were always my favourite. Take care of my school, I’ll see you in the next life.”

“Hey,”

Lorcán’s eyes slowly opened to find Cassander standing overtop of him. The bright afternoon sun nearly disorientated him as the pungent smell of pine was replaced with the smell of newly cut grass again.

“I didn’t think you could get heat stroke.” Cassander snarked, reaching a hand out and helping Lorcán to his feet.

“I think I had the weirdest dream,” Lorcán muttered, lifting his hand to rub the back of his head only to notice the envelope clutched tightly within it.

“What’s that?”

“Uh,” Lorcán hesitated before opening the envelope to find the deed to Dundas Island.

“It’s the deed to Pacific Royal-”

“Lorcán, Lorcán Roth?” A woman’s voice called as she stepped out of a car that Lorcán didn’t recognize and walked towards him.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m glad I found you, my name is Christine Chapel, I was actually a classmate of your father’s back in ‘84 here at Mather Memorial.”

“Did my Dad send you?”

“Actually,” Christine paused, “A different mutual acquaintance did.” Her eyes darted between the two young men. “Dr. Jonas Schechter.”

“I don’t know a-” Lorcán began before a signature on the deed caught his attention.

Jonas Levi Schechter.

“Did you hit your head?” Cassander asked dryly before turning back to Christine. “Sorry about him, he’s all sorts of off today.” He extended a hand, “Cassander Charon, looks like we should start an alliteration club.”

“So it would seem,” Christine smiled, “Speaking of which, I’d actually like to introduce you to some,” She motioned as a dark haired man stepped out of the car. Sunglasses covered most of his face, but he was dressed very sharply.

“This is Charles Callaghan, and he’d-”

“I’d like to invest in your school. Both the satellite wing here in New Hampshire and of course, P.R.C.U. proper. When I heard that you were expanding to set the H.E.AT. program up here, I knew I wanted to be involved.”

“You’re the Charles Callaghan?” Cassander replied as Lorcán looked dumbfounded again.

“Seriously cuz? He’s the most renowned philanthropist in all of New Lilith.”

“Is that a city?”

“Again, you’ll have to forgive him,” Cassander apologized to Christine and Charles, “I thought when you stopped the surfer speech you maybe had gotten smarter. Yes, New Lilith is a city, basically a real world Gotham.”

“And this guy is Bruce Wayne?”

“Without the alter ego," Charles interjected with a chuckle. “Though our city does owe a lot to the Mavericks. That said, I'd rather see people with gifts receive the kind of training that can only be provided by Pacific Royal.”

“Mr. Callaghan-”

“Please, everyone calls me, Chuck.”

“Chuck,” Lorcán stated, “I would love to discuss some opportunities for investment, we can definitely use more people with a vested interest in helping the Hyperhuman population.”

“Us Wraithborne have to stick together,” Cassander replied only for Lorcán to look at him in horror.

“What?”

“What’d you call us?”

“Wraithborne, Lorcán that’s like history 101 at P.R.C.U. Y’know how your Dad and Jonas-”

“And me,” Christine interjected.

“And Ms. Chapel all worked together to find the Crestwood Killer and in the process discovered that Hyperhumans were created by a vengeful Draoi to destabilize the ruling classes of Ünterland. That’s why the campus exists in Terra Umbra.”

“The campus is what?”

“C’mon, you know very well the P.R.C.U. campus lives in Ünterland. It’s why Mather Memorial is focused on the Hyperhuman Enforcement Advanced Training program. That’s something that happens here on Terra Mundus, but the main campus is in Terra Umbra. I still remember the time that you picked a fight with a Lycan who offered to buy Aurora a drink. Or did you forget how you got your scar?”

Lorcán suddenly held a hand to his face, tracing the scar over his right eye.

“No, this is from Raze.”

“I’m seriously starting to worry about you.” Cassander shook his head.

“Maybe you should go on without me, excuse me Ms. Chapel, Mr. Callaghan.” Lorcán stated apologetically before walking around to the front of Mather Memorial. Maybe if he clicked his heels together and said “There’s no place like home” three times, this nightmare would end.

If Jonas had transported him to an alternate universe, he found himself with more questions than answers. He looked at his hand, noting his wedding band still intact, but the rune of protection was gone from his palm.

Was Gil alive?

If the campus were in Ünterland, then it wouldn’t have been a death sentence to be dragged there. Passage wouldn’t come at the same toll. Lorcán clenched his jaw. If his dad’s class had changed, had his? He had never heard of Christine Chapel until fifteen minutes ago.

His hand fumbled for his phone before he unlocked it, opening his messages. A family group chat brought a smile to his face as he opened “Wolfpack4Life”.

One unread message.

Gil.

A tear streamed down Lorcán’s face. Gil was asking what shenanigans they had planned for his bachelor’s party. Laughter echoed from Lorcán mouth over the empty field surrounding Mather Memorial.

If Gil were alive, then maybe everyone else got their happy ending after all. If Gil's course had been changed, was Amma's as well? Were they still together? Or did the ripples go back even further? Lorcán couldn't help but wonder if the Amma of this world was spared Daedalus' torture. Maybe even allowed to live with her mother and father. Maybe the Amma of this world retained the power of life instead of the chaos sewn into her by Daedalus' manipulations.

No matter, his friends were alive. His school was restored, and the Lorcán of this world seemed to be doing just fine.

Even if he did pick fights with Lycans, whatever that was.

He leaned back against the cool brick wall, the rough edges poking his skin through his sweat-stained shirt. He had a lot to learn about this new world, but he was excited to find out everything that had changed.

It was good to be Wraithborne.

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

_{Location: Edge Towers, - Seattle, WA}

Episode #1: New Beginnings

---

_{Interaction(s): @Lord Wraith - #BillionDollarBabe}

Post #1.05: Beauty & The Beast

_{Interaction(s):}

"Girly-pops, if you're throwing a party, you know you oughta invite lil'ol moi."

A singsong voice called out from the doorway as the alarms silenced. The slap of flip-flops echoed from the hallway and into the kitchen as the petite blonde made herself known. Her eyes met Link's, his chest tightening as they locked gazes. His heart began to race.

She reminded him so much of Kennedy.

He furrowed his brow, trying not to show emotion as his eyes watched her cross the room. Keen ears trained on her body, her steps were too heavy for such a small frame. Subtle whirs and clicks inaudible to a human ear didn't escape Link's observation. Even beneath the sweet, candy-like perfume, her smell lacked sweat and other typical bodily odours. Instead, there was something akin to the smell of metal and lubricant.

"Who you be, tall, dark and broody?" Cece asked, slinging herself onto the countertop before helping herself to a dollop of whipped cream, playfully licking it off her index finger.

"I was just leaving." Link replied as CeCe looked between him and Kali.

"You shot him, didn't you?" She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Without Julian around, some of the team members had become a bit more reckless. That said, even CeCe had to admit that this team had always been made up of renegades. CeCe had heard everything that Link did; she had felt her skin crawl as he recounted his story. But Kali had killed before, or at the very least left someone for dead. Selene was the daughter of Circe, one of Wonder Woman's greatest foes, and Julian was the clone of one of the world's most infamous supervillains.

It wasn't important where any of them came from; what was important was what they did now.

"You seem #genuine, and clearly some big names have believed in you since Daddy Carter Hall sent you to us." Cece leaned back, stretching as her shirt rose above her navel. "I'd go on a #beasthunt with you. When do we start?"

Link's eyes looked from Red to Eilidh, and then back to CeCe. The blonde woman carried none of the concern or skepticism of the others; she didn't raise a fist or weapon despite having heard his story.

"Why are you so trusting?" He growled.

"Guess I was always just more of #teamjacob girl." CeCe smiled, "I'm sure we can find you a room upstairs for the night. While most of the team is here, we've had a few leave and some empty bunks." She paused, jumping down from the counter and looking at the rest of the gathered team.

"Unless anyone has any other objections?"

"You don't need to fight my battles." Link scoffed before CeCe slung an arm around the taller man's shoulders.

"Haven't you figured it out yet, hon? That's what Young Justice does."

---