NoriWasHere

Agents of H.E.L.P. - Per Angusta Ad Augusta

Jane

J A N E ' J A Y ' S M I T H
J A N E ' J A Y ' S M I T H

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^{_{"You need to think like one of them to know how to catch one of them."}}

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P R O F I L E I N F O R M A T I O N P R O F I L E I N F O R M A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ NAME: | Jane Anne Smith _______________________________________________________________________ STATUS: | Active _______________________________________________________________________ INDEX DATE: | 06/14/1992 _______________________________________________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH: | 1969/12/25 _______________________________________________________________________ ALIAS(ES): | Deadeye _______________________________________________________________________ RESIDENCE: | Toronto, Canada _______________________________________________________________________ CITIZENSHIP: | American, Australian, Canadian _______________________________________________________________________ CLEARANCE LEVEL: | New Agent Trainee B A C K G R O U N D B A C K G R O U N D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Jane was born and raised in the charming German Village nestled just outside the bustle of Columbus’s downtown. Born to a pair of doctors, one an immigrant from Australia, and the other from Canada, Jane did not want for much growing up. Her childhood years were spent walking the brick roads of her hometown, enjoying the fantastic food scene that began to spring up around her, and experiencing the best education her family could find in this idyllic community. Jane had fantastic grades and excelled in sports like basketball and Football, where her ability to seemingly score from anywhere made her a fan favorite. Things began to unravel when she was thirteen years old. News had broken about Hyperhumans and their incredible powers. While Jane did not initially think this would affect her or anyone she knew, others were not so sure. A rival on her sports team became convinced that she was a Hyperhuman and was dead set on proving it. One day, after practice, the girl and several of her friends pulled Jane into a side room and began to attack her. They demanded she admit that she was a freak who was using her power to benefit. The blows kept landing as Jane professed her innocence, and the blows would continue to fall despite it. At least, until the blows stopped landing. Unbeknownst to Jane, the trauma of the altercation had triggered her gene, and a forcefield had begun to soften the blows, absorb the force of impact, and store that energy for use later. Jane’s emotions began to swell, and with a defiant ‘stop’ she accidentally released the stored energy and threw her assailants away with force. Most of the girls suffered broken bones, many suffered concussions, and Jane was left sitting in a pool of her blood, shocked at the sight of what she had just done. Even though she had never used her powers before, at her school, she was now a freak who everyone assumed had. All her accomplishments, all her accolades, were now gone, and her ability to continue playing the sports she loved was stripped from her. Jane would fall into a depression, a pit she has yet to fully climb out of. Her parents did not treat her any differently, however, as they were medical professionals and understood that there was something medical at play. Above all else, they knew, with the paranoia and hatred at play, that their kid needed to learn how to hide and control these powers. The family uprooted their quiet and peaceful life in Ohio and moved North to her father's home country of Canada, settling down in Toronto. They gave their kid a fresh start away from as much of the crazy as they could. They helped Jane learn more about her power, and how to keep it contained without further outbursts but this meant that for her High School years, Jane was more sheltered, alone, and distant. Jane retreated into her studies, eventually she finished High School before she followed her father's footsteps, returning to America, and enrolled in the Ohio State University and began to pursue a degree in Psychology. R E C R U I T M E N T R E C R U I T M E N T ________________________________________________________________________________________ It was just after she finished her Bachelor’s degree that she was finally discovered by H.E.L.P. She was at a house party back in Toronto and, as one does, was playing cornhole with her friends. A rather rude man had boasted about his playing ability one too many times, and Jane had had enough. She challenged him, outright, and he happily accepted. He was less happy when every throw seemed to veer ever so off course, however. Either it nearly went into the hole or fell just short, or its momentum seemingly carried on for a second or two too long, and the bag slid off the end. Jane dominated the game thanks to her ability, and the sad thing was she didn’t even need to use her ability to do so. She seemed to be able to sink shots from any angle without it. The drunk men did not notice her use of ability, nor did the rest of the crowd, but the H.E.L.P. P agent who had arrived at the party noticed the subtle twist and twitch of her hands on every throw the man made. She was picked up by a squad later that night and taken back to the station for questioning. It was during these sessions that Jane proved the worth of her education as she got to know the agents very well by shaping the conversation and getting to the root of who these agents were, what their problems were, and how they could begin to tackle them. Jane was moved to a new office and held for a week, and it was here the full extent of her abilities were uncovered. Not only did she have the barrier that protected her, but she also held the ability to adjust the trajectory of objects in the air. Jane made a strong first impression with her education, and then continued to impress with her skills demonstration. She was given two options. Either she could become one of the statistics that filled the evening news, or she could put her education and skills to use with H.E.L.P., and further her understanding of her abilities. She quickly chose the option that celebrated her skills and allowed them to flourish. C A R E E R W I T H T H E B U R E A U C A R E E R W I T H T H E B U R E A U ________________________________________________________________________________________ Thus far, Jane has not had the chance to do as much work as she would like. She has instead focused on her training, the development of her skills, and furthering her own education to make herself an attractive candidate for the group. She has added a second degree to her belt, a BA in Criminal Justice. Her goal has always been to use her skillset and her education to be one of the agents who helped profile a target, and to not be a liability if she was brought in to take them down. While dealing with Hyperhumans was different than dealing with serial rapists or murderers, there was still an art to the science of tracking them. Jane has pushed relentlessly to join the group outside of being an outside contractor, and eventually she was given her wish as she is now a New Agent Trainee. She is incredibly fresh, but excited to finally make her mark.

P H O T O I D E N T I F I C A T I O N P H O T O I D E N T I F I C A T I O N _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N _________________________________________________________ RACE: | Caucasian _________________________________________________________________ SEX: | Female _________________________________________________________________ HEIGHT: | 5'4" _________________________________________________________________ WEIGHT: | 121 lbs _________________________________________________________________ HAIR COLOUR: | Black (dyed, natural brunette) _________________________________________________________________ HAIR LENGTH: | Long _________________________________________________________________ EYE COLOUR: | Dark Brown _________________________________________________________________ HANDEDNESS: | Left 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 _________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Kinetikinesis __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Esoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Psionic __POWER SCALE || 03 __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || Delta Jane's Hyperhuman gift manifests in both a passive and active way. Passively, Jane has a barrier up around her at all times that causes a steady drain of her stored HZE ions. While she is not focused, the barrier is weak but able to deflect and absorb the impact of many slow-moving objects or weak forces. A thrown object would be guided away from her body as if a moving current of water picked it up, a punch would connect with the barrier but a portion of the force would be absorbed by the barrier, and an object that did pierce the barrier would find it slowed down significantly before it hit Jane herself. When Jane concentrates on this ability, she charges the barrier and can manipulate it. She will be able to stop or deflect faster-moving objects, including some bullets, thus keeping herself protected. She can also extend the barrier to cover herself and others by expending some of her stored HZE Ions. If she expands the barrier outward, she will find that it drains her at a rapid pace. The barrier converts the kinetic energy of these impacts into potential energy that is stored within the barrier itself. Jane can unleash the energy willingly when needed, or it will release itself when it reaches a certain threshold, sending a shockwave outward while also depleting the barrier for five minutes. Jane can also manipulate objects in motion by expending her HZE ions to extend her barrier and enveloping the object within it. She cannot grab a still object; instead, she is limited to something that already has that kinetic motion. Jane will also be unable to stop an object entirely, only adjust its trajectory. Jane has developed a use for this with various throwing weapons that she will bring on a mission. She will throw out a knife and then guide it to a target, whether that target is running, behind cover, or still. This manipulation can also extend to people, and she is a natural counter to speedsters and other Hyperhumans who utilize their physical abilities. For example, if a suspect were to throw a punch at her, she would be able to 'grab' the punch and redirect it to hit a wall next to her, or the face of the suspect's friend, instead. L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S • Jane has a versatile skill set that requires her to balance her offensive abilities with her defensive abilities. • Jane's barrier has a built-in discharge function if too much is thrown her way. If the barrier exceeds this limit, she will be left without her only defensive layer for a prolonged time. • While the barrier is active, she is limited in how much HZE is available for offensive purposes. While the barrier depleting would, in theory, allow her to have more power behind her offensive abilities it is a gambit that has an unknown payoff thus it would be risky to try and fight without it. • Jane can not use her abilities on objects that are not moving. While she can extend her barrier to protect a still object she can not move it herself. Once an object is in motion she’ll be able to keep it in motion, but an object at rest will forever remain at rest.

Nori And Her Stuff

J A N E ' J A Y ' S M I T H
J A N E ' J A Y ' S M I T H

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^{_{"You need to think like one of them to know how to catch one of them."}}

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P R O F I L E I N F O R M A T I O N P R O F I L E I N F O R M A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ NAME: | Jane Anne Smith _______________________________________________________________________ STATUS: | Active _______________________________________________________________________ INDEX DATE: | TBD _______________________________________________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH: | 1973/12/25 _______________________________________________________________________ ALIAS(ES): | Deadeye _______________________________________________________________________ RESIDENCE: | Toronto, Canada _______________________________________________________________________ CITIZENSHIP: | American, Australian, Canadian _______________________________________________________________________ CLEARANCE LEVEL: | New Agent Trainee B A C K G R O U N D B A C K G R O U N D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Jane was born and raised in the charming German Village nestled just outside the bustle of Columbus’s downtown. Born to a pair of doctors, one an immigrant from Australia, and the other from Canada, Jane did not want for much growing up. Her childhood years were spent walking the brick roads of her hometown, enjoying the fantastic food scene that began to spring up around her, and experiencing the best education her family could find in this idyllic community. Jane had fantastic grades and excelled in sports like basketball and Football, where her ability to seemingly score from anywhere made her a fan favorite. Things began to unravel when she was thirteen years old. News had broken about Hyperhumans and their incredible powers. While Jane did not initially think this would affect her or anyone she knew, others were not so sure. A rival on her sports team became convinced that she was a Hyperhuman and was dead set on proving it. One day, after practice, the girl and several of her friends pulled Jane into a side room and began to attack her. They demanded she admit that she was a freak who was using her power to benefit. The blows kept landing as Jane professed her innocence, and the blows would continue to fall despite it. At least, until the blows stopped landing. Unbeknownst to Jane, the trauma of the altercation had triggered her gene, and a forcefield had begun to soften the blows, absorb the force of impact, and store that energy for use later. Jane’s emotions began to swell, and with a defiant ‘stop’ she accidentally released the stored energy and threw her assailants away with force. Most of the girls suffered broken bones, many suffered concussions, and Jane was left sitting in a pool of her blood, shocked at the sight of what she had just done. Even though she had never used her powers before, at her school, she was now a freak who everyone assumed had. All her accomplishments, all her accolades, were now gone, and her ability to continue playing the sports she loved was stripped from her. Jane would fall into a depression, a pit she has yet to fully climb out of. Her parents did not treat her any differently, however, as they were medical professionals and understood that there was something medical at play. Above all else, they knew, with the paranoia and hatred at play, that their kid needed to learn how to hide and control these powers. The family uprooted their quiet and peaceful life in Ohio and moved North to her father's home country of Canada, settling down in Toronto. They gave their kid a fresh start away from as much of the crazy as they could. They helped Jane learn more about her power, and how to keep it contained without further outbursts but this meant that for her High School years, Jane was more sheltered, alone, and distant. Jane retreated into her studies, eventually she finished High School before she followed her father's footsteps, returning to America, and enrolled in the Ohio State University and began to pursue a degree in Psychology. R E C R U I T M E N T R E C R U I T M E N T ________________________________________________________________________________________ It was just after she finished her Bachelor’s degree that she was finally discovered by H.E.L.P. She was at a house party back in Toronto and, as one does, was playing cornhole with her friends. A rather rude man had boasted about his playing ability one too many times, and Jane had had enough. She challenged him, outright, and he happily accepted. He was less happy when every throw seemed to veer ever so off course, however. Either it nearly went into the hole or fell just short, or its momentum seemingly carried on for a second or two too long, and the bag slid off the end. Jane dominated the game thanks to her ability, and the sad thing was she didn’t even need to use her ability to do so. She seemed to be able to sink shots from any angle without it. The drunk men did not notice her use of ability, nor did the rest of the crowd, but the H.E.L.P. P agent who had arrived at the party noticed the subtle twist and twitch of her hands on every throw the man made. She was picked up by a squad later that night and taken back to the station for questioning. It was during these sessions that Jane proved the worth of her education as she got to know the agents very well by shaping the conversation and getting to the root of who these agents were, what their problems were, and how they could begin to tackle them. Jane was moved to a new facility and held for a week, and it was here the full extent of her abilities were uncovered. Not only did she have the barrier that protected her, but she also held the ability to adjust the trajectory of objects in the air. Jane made a strong first impression with her education, and then continued to impress with her skills demonstration. She was given two options. Either she could become one of the statistics that filled the evening news, or she could put her education and skills to use with H.E.L.P., and further her understanding of her abilities. She quickly chose the option that celebrated her skills and allowed them to flourish. She was brought on as an Outside Contractor and would be brought in to assist when her skills were relevant C A R E E R W I T H T H E B U R E A U C A R E E R W I T H T H E B U R E A U ________________________________________________________________________________________ Thus far, Jane has not had the chance to do as much work as she would like. She has instead focused on her training, the development of her skills, and furthering her own education to make herself an attractive candidate for the group. She has added a second degree to her belt, a BA in Criminal Justice. Her goal has always been to use her skillset and her education to be one of the agents who helped profile a target, and to not be a liability if she was brought in to take them down. While dealing with Hyperhumans was different than dealing with serial rapists or murderers, there was still an art to the science of tracking them. Jane has pushed relentlessly to join the group outside of being an outside contractor, and eventually she was given her wish as she is now a New Agent Trainee. She is incredibly fresh, but excited to finally make her mark.

P H O T O I D E N T I F I C A T I O N P H O T O I D E N T I F I C A T I O N _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N _________________________________________________________ RACE: | Caucasian _________________________________________________________________ SEX: | Female _________________________________________________________________ HEIGHT: | 5'4" _________________________________________________________________ WEIGHT: | 121 lbs _________________________________________________________________ HAIR COLOUR: | Black (dyed, natural brunette) _________________________________________________________________ HAIR LENGTH: | Long _________________________________________________________________ EYE COLOUR: | Dark Brown _________________________________________________________________ HANDEDNESS: | Left 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 _________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Telekinesis __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Esoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Psionic __POWER SCALE || TBD __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD Jane's Hyperhuman gift manifests in both a passive and active way. Passively, Jane has a barrier up around her at all times that causes a steady drain of her stored HZE ions. While she is not focused, the barrier is weak but able to deflect and absorb the impact of many slow-moving objects or weak forces. A thrown object would be guided away from her body as if a moving current of water picked it up, a punch would connect with the barrier but a portion of the force would be absorbed by the barrier, and an object that did pierce the barrier would find it slowed down significantly before it hit Jane herself. When Jane concentrates on this ability, she charges the barrier and can manipulate it. She will be able to stop or deflect faster-moving objects, including some bullets, thus keeping herself protected. She can also extend the barrier to cover herself and others by expending some of her stored HZE Ions. If she expands the barrier outward, she will find that it drains her at a rapid pace. The barrier converts the kinetic energy of these impacts into potential energy that is stored within the barrier itself. Jane can unleash the energy willingly when needed, or it will release itself when it reaches a certain threshold, sending a shockwave outward while also depleting the barrier for five minutes. Jane can also manipulate objects in motion by expending her HZE ions to extend her barrier and enveloping the object within it. She cannot grab a still object; instead, she is limited to something that already has that kinetic motion. Jane will also be unable to stop an object entirely, only adjust its trajectory. Jane has developed a use for this with various throwing weapons that she will bring on a mission. She will throw out a knife and then guide it to a target, whether that target is running, behind cover, or still. This manipulation can also extend to people, and she is a natural counter to speedsters and other Hyperhumans who utilize their physical abilities. For example, if a suspect were to throw a punch at her, she would be able to 'grab' the punch and redirect it to hit a wall next to her, or the face of the suspect's friend, instead. L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S • Jane has a versatile skill set that requires her to balance her offensive abilities with her defensive abilities. • Jane's barrier has a built-in discharge function if too much is thrown her way. If the barrier exceeds this limit, she will be left without her only defensive layer for a prolonged time. • While the barrier is active, she is limited in how much HZE is available for offensive purposes. While the barrier depleting would, in theory, allow her to have more power behind her offensive abilities it is a gambit that has an unknown payoff thus it would be risky to try and fight without it. • Jane can not use her abilities on objects that are not moving. While she can extend her barrier to protect a still object she can not move it herself. Once an object is in motion she’ll be able to keep it in motion, but an object at rest will forever remain at rest.

The Symphony: Modern Magic

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[Cancelled]

Amanda Maria Klein

"This fucking suuuucks.."

_______________________________________________ Amanda Maria Klein She/Her | 25 | White | 64 | 115 Lbs _______________________________________________ Bother _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know a thing or two about a thing or two..." ___________________________________ [+] [Adaptive Gamer] ⫻ Some might consider Amanda a pro gamer. She has a fancy for Hero Shooters, and often reaches ranks that inch towards the upper echelons of the competitive scene, yet she never has found success in tournaments nor in being scouted by the professional teams [MacGyver From Shien] ⫻ Amanda is resourceful. They spent many a night having sleep for dinner when they started their long and painful college career. Eventually, they decided enough was enough. They can take a poorly dealt hand, add a couple of cards of their own, and then turn it into a more advantageous situation. [Overqualified Underachiever] ⫻ As someone who has as many lived experiences as Amanda does, one might expect greatness from them. Sadly, they tend to struggle even when they are supposed to do well. [Scholar Of The Far Away Worlds] ⫻ Amanda has an unhealthy obsession with learning as much as they possibly can and spends way too much time debating facts about them. [A Magician's Apprentice] ⫻ As a party trick, Amanda has developed the ability to do close-up magic to a proficient degree. She is extremely good at card tricks, and she is equally proficient with hat tricks. [Pinpoint Accuracy] ⫻ In addition to her magic she has learned to throw playing cards with a surprising accuracy, usually to complement the magic of her card tricks.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I don’t think I knew how bad of a look that was." The Amanda from Kindle thankfully has a similar style to the Amanda from Shadow. Both tend to wear baggy clothes, with a particular interest in colorful sweaters and plain pants. They don't really take chances with their fashion, especially not lately, as they have embraced the boring style that they have developed. It is safe, functional, and can be cute as long as she accessorizes well. She does have the ability and the want to dress up more. She has some fancy cocktail dresses and other more formal attire that she seeks opportunities to wear more. In the warmer months, she does have a preference for sun dresses and other more flowy garments. Their bodies were both almost identical. Both are completely clear of all modifications. She has nary a tattoo nor a piercing, even though she has always wanted both. The idea of committing to something that could last a lifetime, or cause scarring that would as well, has always scared her. One of these days she may pull the plug and get both, but today is not that day. She is on the shorter end of the spectrum, with a lithe frame that suggests that she is more in tune with Pilates than lifting. Her hair is a dyed mushroom blonde, though naturally more brown. Her eyes are a dark brown that have often been her most striking feature.

_{Psychology
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"Therapy is not for the weak."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Amanda wants to finish a single bachelor's degree. She is close to several at this point, and all it will take is a concentrated effort to achieve one. However, a fear of failure is pushing her away from achieving this goal.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Hard work is a lie. Life is ninety percent luck, five percent drive, and five percent additional luck. The successful ones in life were almost always born into success, and there was very little one could do to break into that exclusive club.

SECRETS ⫻ Back in Shadow, Amanda had a child at eighteen, but gave her up. This birth was a contributing factor to her failing out of her first school. As well, she had lied on her taxes every single year she had filed, lied to get a Pell grant to pay for her continued education, and lied about the classes she took in high school to get into college (the school required two years of a foreign language and she only did one.)

SEXUALITY ⫻ Amanda is attracted to masculine-presenting people. While ninety nine times out of a hundred this is a man, there have been a butch or two that have caught her affection. She is, however, open to new experiences in whatever form they come in.

FEARS ⫻ Amanda has a chronic fear of committing to a single path in life. They have attempted to find an easy one through education, but this has led to unpaid debt, a crushing sense of failure, and no clear idea of who they are and what they want to do. This fear of committing to a single path in life has also led them to fear that they will never find their version of true love.

REPUTATION IN SHADOW ⫻ In their community and friend groups, they were well-liked. Those who truly knew them knew that they suffered from an addictive personality, and there were rumors that Amanda was responsible for keeping the street dealers in business with how frequently she purchased from them. However, others knew her as an indecisive idiot who needed a babysitter on nights out.

FLAWS ⫻ Amanda finds it easy to get addicted to substances. They have had problems with weed, alcohol, pills, and more. If something helps make someone feel better or forget, they will want to try it and then abuse it. As well, Amanda tends to freeze when fight or flight kicks in like a fawn in the headlights.

_{Backstory
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"I hated Ohio."

Amanda was born in Cleveland, Ohio, to a pair of upper-middle-class parents. She attended a Catholic school for the first eleven years of her life, but was moved to a public one once the rust belt rusted. She quickly noticed a change in the quality of her life after her father lost his job. Whereas once she was able to purchase a lunch at the school, now she was forced to pack the same bland meal every day, and at night she would eat the same bland meal they would have three to four times a week. McDonald's became a luxury, her parents fought, and it seemed like not much would change for a while. It was at age eight where she discovered her love of close up magic. Her parents could only get her a single magic kit for her birthday that year, and she became addicted to it. When she did a cool trick she would watch as her parents would suddenly be in a better move. In her kid mind, she could fix their relationship with the power of magic alone. Still, it did little to actually fix things and things looked like they would go from bad to worse quickly.

At least until her father got a job overseas. Suddenly, their finances were in a much stronger position. Amanda would do a semester or two abroad every other year, and she made many friends from every corner of the world. Even though he would only be around for one week out of each month, it seemed like the distance did much to repair the damage that poverty wrought on her parents' relationship. Things seemed like they were finally doing better. At least, until her Father filed for divorce as he had met the newest love of his life abroad. By the time she finished high school, Amanda was ready to put this entire life behind her and move towards the future. Instead of asking her father for help paying for school, she took out loans and attended the prestigious Cleveland State University with a focus on electrical engineering and failed out within a year. This was in part due to her own academic struggles, but also because she became pregnant. While the child was put up for adoption, and she did not need to deal with the baby itself, the sheer struggle of dealing with the pregnancy did contribute in its way.

Undeterred by the setback, Amanda quickly enrolled in her second-choice university and continued her academic career at the marvelous Cuyahoga Community College with a focus on Science. She worked at a few dead-end jobs and eventually earned an Associate of Science degree, and it seemed like life was back on track. They enrolled in their new favorite University in Kent, Ohio, and were set to get a Bachelors in Physics, and were one semester short when she quit. She suddenly lost the drive to complete her studies as she worried terribly about her job prospects out of school. At the age of twenty-two, she moved to New York and continued her studies at another community college, aiming to switch to a business degree. After a semester, she quit the business classes and focused on creative writing. After a semester, she quit the creative writing program and switched to programming. She was about to switch her courses again when something impossible happened.

As she wakes up in a new body and a new world, Amanda can only wonder if there was another path she could’ve taken to avoid this altogether.

_{Abstraction
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"Quote about abstraction here."

TYPE ⫻ (Put Adept, Apparition, Aberration (Afflicted/Agent/Adjoined/Abscised/Abominable), Blind or Aware)

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Name of the Abstraction (or Lux type + Channeler for Adepts), plus a one-sentence summary of what it does.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Detailed breakdown of abilities. If Adept, list spells + how the channeler works. If Aberration, describe how the Abstraction works through them. Leave no surprises.

LIMITS ⫻ What can’t it do? List restrictions, cooldowns, energy costs, emotional constraints, etc.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)

^{Other
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"What are you talking about? Magic isn’t real."

-Amanda will always have high-quality treats with her. She will seldom share.
-Despite scoffing at Pop music when around friends, her playlist is filled with the stuff.
Her favorite movie to watch is Children of Men; her favorite movie to hate-watch is Twilight.
-Amanda believes she is on the autism spectrum. She always makes sure to have some form of a stim device with her, typically a fidget spinner, but as long as she can do something with her hands she will be happy. If she has a deck of cards, for example, she will simply shuffle the deck.

The Symphony: Modern Magic

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“Tuesday, April 15th 00:19’

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“Your visa,” the Archivist interrupted, his voice a whip-crack, “is meaningless. Will your papers save you when the Hunters catch your scent? If it is any consolation,” The Archivist paused as he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, “you will work for me now. All of you if you’re so concerned about money. My assistant will meet us tomorrow at noon. Your visa situation should be the least of your concerns. Congratulations.”

“Just like that,” Lena raised an eyebrow.

“Just like that,” The Archivist responded as he put the phone back in his pocket, “I am what your shorter-lived species calls ‘old-money’. You will be taken care of. Unless you prefer to simply pull yourselves up by your bootstraps.”

Lena paused as she considered her next words. On one hand, the prospect of not having to work was enticing, but she knew that the comedy club would still call her name. “You better have benefits.”

“I promise you,” The Archivist paused as he lifted his top lip, pointed to his teeth, and looked towards Mathias, “your canines will never look better.”

"How do we learn to control it? How do we keep them from finding us?"

The archivist lowered his lip as he turned to her slowly. He thought for a moment before he sighed. “Right now, you all leave trails like a wounded animal. Your magic begs to be found. You will learn control,” he paused as he used his free hand to reach into his pocket and pull out a compass. The group would see that it was a palm-sized brass compass with a cracked ivory face. The needle is a dull grey and silver, forged from cold iron and tipped with a sliver of silver. And the outer rim is etched with runes. “This is a Witchfinders Dial, something that has been passed down since the inception of our order.” The Archivist moved it from side to side, yet the dial remained fixated on the center of the group. “It tracks latent magic, and it will find you. Once I am finished, however, you will be able to cover your tracks. We’re lucky that the new generation of our enemies have forsaken the old ways, but that will not lead.”

“How does it work?” Jackson asked as he placed a hand on his chin. While his mind was not as well suited for the magical world, a device like that seemed strangely practical. Mundane. It made sense to Jackson that a device made by people who hunted mages would not be magic.

“If you want to know, there are books in my study,” The Archivist responded as he closed the compass and put it back into his pocket. “If you wanted to be any use to our cause, you would learn how the Witch Hunters operate. How they work.” He paused, his gaze sharpening to a blade’s edge. “Or do you require me to draw you a picture book? I can even let you color it in.”

Lena shifted in place as she looked over the device. She was not a smart woman and her thoughts were more gushing wind than constructive as she thought about how it worked.

”You were either real good at what you did, and something fucked up happened, or you weren’t and these guys aren’t that scary. And why didn’t you just shoot yourself when you suddenly became part of the problem? I don’t care that much, as long as I get answers. I’ve heard enough stories about monsters that used to exist that I believe you, but the first thing I’m doing before I do your wizard shit of figuring out how to get this destruction shit I’m doing under control. You got any future vision shit for that?”

The Archivist’s lips twitched, then split into a laugh as cold and sharp as a scalpel. “Oh, are you daft? Does a bodybuilder naturally possess control over their muscles or do they have to work at it?” A ping pulled the Archivist's attention away from the group. He pulled out his phone, and his expression soured at what he saw. On his screen was a direct message from E. Longtusk, and the message contained a link to a video conferencing service.

"What kinda shit do you see in the future for us? Like, do y’see us as trained mages?"

Pacing the phone back in his pocket, he looked towards the lake spirit and sighed. He wondered if he should let them know that something was happening, or if he should answer more questions first. Maybe a demonstration was in order? "Training is merely a fork in the path, and a trained mage is but one possible destination. The far future is ever changing." The Archivist’s fingertips traced through the air, and a yellowed spider web cracked and spread from where he touched. As it spread, the Arcivist's eyes began to glow the same golden color. As the spiderweb spread, the Archivist moved to specific parts of it as if he was reading from a scroll. After a few moments, the cracks dissipated, and his eyes returned to normal. "Some of you may carve runes into their body to control their power, only to become prisoners of their magic. Others yet let their power run wild, but become consumed by the backlash until nothing but husks remain. I can’t answer your question. You will answer that yourself. Do you want to be a trained mage? Or do you want to die?”

"I have been having similar visions. Some of things that haven't happened and some of things that did. What does that mean for me? For us?"

Ah yes. The other gifted with foresight. The Archivist knew that her power was much more random than his own, this much the future told him. Yet he had the feeling that she would have a much more clear picture when the time comes. “For you, it means the same as the rest. We need to train you further. Induce more visions. Record everything we see in great detail, and induce further visions. I have just the drugs to do this.”

"I agree though. I don't know anyone here, really. Let alone trust anyone. For all I know you led us here with the sole intention of having these...witch hunters come find us and wipe us all out. Hell, I'm used to being hunted down. What's a few more people added to that list?"

His cane struck the floor. “You’ve been chased by strays all your life. The wolves are coming. They will peel you apart to see what makes you bleed. Still eager to play martyr? I suggest you get to know each other well, and quickly.”

”None of us wanted this magic. Is there any way for us to get rid of it, instead of fighting or dying?”

The Archivist leaned forward. “I have tried. I have countless tomes, scrolls, and other manuals that documented my ancestors' attempts to do the very same. Sadly, you are a mage and a mage you always shall be.”

Lena snorted. “I get it. You’re lonely in your old age and you want us to keep you-“

“Your comedy,”he cut in, “is as tiresome as your recklessness. The fire won’t laugh when it devours you.”

Jackson stepped forward, his voice steady. “What do you want us to do first?”

The Archivist sighed. The low intelligence and selfishness of these people made him tired. “Let me show you my study. If you would rather die out there then so be it, but make that decision with all the facts. I promise you will not die by my hands, and I promise that the future has a place for you.”

“Fuck it,” Lena sighed, “I have nothing better to do.”

---

---

The Archivist’s study was a cathedral of shadows, its vaulted ceiling lost to darkness. Dust motes drifted through slants of pale light from heavy velvet curtains, settling on the spines of ancient books and the cold steel of relics that lined the walls. The room was rather large, and it too was filled with trinkets and other busts. Bookcases spanned the two side walls, meanwhile the wall that lined up to the doorway was surprisingly empty. The Archivist stood at the head of a scarred oak desk, his silver cane planted like a flag. He did not sit. He did not blink. His gaze swept over them, sharp and unyielding, as if dissecting their worth. Behind the desk was a tall and wide painting that showed two elderly elven figures and three children. Each was dressed in garments befitting royalty. Lena leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, her fingers idly tracing the edge of Burnie’s flickering form as he floated in front of her while her eyes scanned the painting. Jackson stood beside her, his posture rigid, the faint scent of water clinging to his sleeves.

The Archivist grabbed a see-through tablet from the desk and pressed several buttons quickly. A soft creaking noise filled the air as a paper-thin screen rose from the floor on the front wall, and after a few seconds, it finished rising. The screen flickered to life. The group would watch as the Archivist pulled up a program, and a video began to play.

---

The forest swallowed sound. Pine needles muffled the crunch of boots, and twilight dyed the world in grays. A team moved in practiced silence, four shadows in tactical gear, rifles slung low. Their leader, nicknamed Vault, raised a gloved fist. He was taller than the rest by a good foot and a half, and his eyes betrayed his excitement. Ahead, the cabin sagged beneath a shroud of ivy, its roof not maintained.

Vault pulled up a tablet, and every heat signature was visible on it. “Perimeter clear,” Vault muttered into his comm, though the words felt hollow. No birds sang here. No insects hummed. Even the rain had stopped, as if the clouds feared what lay beneath the trees. Vault knew this was a dark place where God demanded destruction.

Reaper, gaunt beneath his gear, grinned as he loaded a grenade launcher underneath his gun barrel. “Burn protocol?”

“Burn it,” Vault said.

The first incinerator round tore through the cabin’s rotting wall. Flames erupted as it exploded, greasy and too-orange, devouring wood and cobwebs alike with reckless abandon. Hush, their tech specialist, activated an electromagnetic damper that was attached to the front of her vest. It was a black box that hissed static. Nothing happened. No shimmer in the air, no wail of disrupted energy. Just fire. She knew that there was no magical attack coming their way. The scientist assured them that this would protect them.

“Level it,” Vault ordered.

Automatic gunfire followed, muzzle flashes strobing the dusk. Bullets punched through walls already crumbling under the flames. Splinters flew. The porch collapsed inward with a groan.

“Thermal’s dead,” Hush said, staring at her scanner. Her silver hair glinted in the dying firelight. She was shorter than the rest, a bit pudgy and it looked like her tactical outfit was sized a hair small. “No traces of anyone inside.”

“Extinguish it,” Vault ordered.

Hush pressed a button on her wrist, and the whizzing sound of several drones spinning up filled the air. A moment later, they surrounded the cabin and began spraying it down with flame retardants until the flames died out with a whimper. The group all approached the cabin with weapons raised until they were close. Eventually, Vault lowered his gun, and the rest soon followed.

Wraith, the rookie, hovered near the threshold. He was slender, and a sober silver cross was very present on the outside of his vest. Their rifle trembled slightly. “Maybe we got the wrong—”

“It’s not wrong,” Vault snapped. He kicked a smoldering beam aside. The floorboards beneath were scorched black, save for a few surviving DoorDashed food containers. “She was here.”

Reaper, dressed in a ghillie suit designed for another location and climate, nudged a collapsed bookshelf with his boot. A yearbook from a middle school in the area fell out. No spell books. No bones. “Place is a tomb. No one’s lived here for decades.”

“Look.” Wraith pointed. Above them, a rafter had survived the fire. A length of rusted chain dangled from it, swaying in the heat-rippled air. It held various hooks and bobbers.

Hush tilted her head. “Traps?”

“Fisherman’s tackle,” Reaper snorted. “Old junk.”

Vault rose, jaw tight. He knew he’d feel something magical in this place. The algorithm told them that this is where their target, Lena, would be. He knew there had to be a magical sign. But here, there was nothing. No prickling. No hum. Just a hollow, yawning silence.

Wraith crouched by the wall, peeling back a strip of wallpaper. Beneath it, something gleamed. “Sir?”

They all turned. The wallpaper peeled away in a long strip, revealing a symbol spray-painted on the plaster beneath: an inverted cross, crude and flaking. By its appearance, it was at least ten years old.

Reaper laughed, high and sharp. “Edgy teenager shit. This is a waste of—”

“Quiet.” Vault pressed a hand to the symbol. The plaster was cold. No hum of old malice, no whisper of devotion. Just paint. “Check the crawl space.”

Hush pried up a floorboard. Dust billowed. Wraith aimed a flashlight into the void.

Empty.

No bones. No jars of teeth or hair. Not even a rat’s nest. Only a single, cracked mason jar.

“They knew we were coming,” Vault said softly.

Reaper spat. “Or they’re dead. Or they never existed. I mean, magic? I thought that was a joke to get us to sign up for this ‘secret society’. My dad told me that it was just smoke and mirrors..”

The dampener in Hush’s hands suddenly shrieked—a feedback whine that made them all flinch. Her screen flickered: *ERROR. MAGIC NOT FOUND.*

“We’re done here,” Vault said.

They retreated into the trees. Behind them, the cabin’s walls collapsed, sending up a spiral of embers. No one mentioned the way the forest seemed denser now, the path back to the trucks somehow longer, and thoughts darker. No one mentioned the wet, dragging sound that followed them for twenty paces before fading, like a branch caught on a boot.

As they reached the truck, Vault engaged his communication system. “Target was not there, please advise.”

“Yeah… yeah I, um, yeah I saw that,” the muttering voice on the other end of the line responding, “hold steady for a second while we, uh, run some tests on the algorithm. We’ll find her tonight.”

“Any backup plan in case the algorithm is unresponsive?” Vault asked.

“I’ve called in those elven brothers, you know the old fucks we kicked out,” the voice responded.

- -

“Fuck,” The Archivist said dryly.

The screen flickered. The footage showed men in tactical gear firing into her cabin. Lena’s knuckles whitened as she ground her teeth.

“Fuck,” Jackson said in a shocked tone as he looked towards Lena, and then back to the Archivist.

The screen showed more of the destruction, from several angles, and it seemed like the white of Lena’s eyes darkened.

“Fuck.” Lena shook as the fuckers kicked open the door and stormed her last vestige of her parents. Those fuckers had just destroyed her safe space. On the screen, she watched them search high and low to find any trace of magic, and she watched them grow angry when there was none. She felt a heat wash over her, and she bit her tongue to prevent that heat from billowing out. The memories of her playing on that living room, cooking s'mores on the fire outside, and the stupid graffiti she did all flooded her mind. As they did, they stoked the fire that was burning inside her, and as they did, so too did Bernie respond. He grew larger, his movements more erratic, and it seemed as if something was wanting to come out of the sentient fireball. Lena’s body began to subtly change. The keen eye would notice her skin shifting in tone from a more blue undertone to purple.

“They’re idiots,” The Archivist gasped.

The gasp broke Lena from her anger for a brief moment. “What the fuck do you mean? They seemed pretty good at destroying my fucking cabin.”

“They have no artifacts, no proper armor,” The Archivist chuckled, “they’re no true witch hunters, they’re cosplayers. Larpers. Trusting technology to do the work and leaving themselves exposed to your magic.”

“So,” Jackson interrupted as he moved closer to Lena, looking over her rage-filled face with concern, “can we defend ourselves?”

“Against these idiots,” The Archivist scoffed, “even a blind destitute would have a chance.” He paused as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out and saw that E. Longtusk was calling now. “But you’ll have no chance against the brothers. The one is across the world at a Tibetan monastery and has been for several weeks, trying to find peace with himself or some bullshit like that. It’ll take them at least a week to figure out where he is, and another to get to him, and then a few days to convince him to fight again. The other,” he paused as he leaned back on the desk and smirked, “is willing to teach you how to handle your magic and fight back.”

Lena’s eyes locked onto the Archivist.

“Introductions are finally in order. I am Sir Percival Ravensmere,” he paused as he let the name hang in the air. The name would be easily recognizable to those who knew of Elven history. One of the oldest and strongest of the Elven noble bloodlines, the Ravensmere name carried with it an aura of significance to those who knew it.

“And you are fortunate I am here to help.”

The Symphony: Modern Magic

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“Tuesday, April 15th 00:13’

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---

The Benefactor had listened to each with the patience of a spider counting flies in its web. To the crowd, it would become clear that this was all beneath him. The complaints, the accusations, and the silly questions did little to move the needle on that thought. Though he did weather the storm of questions with a straight face, upright chin, and calm demeanor. Now, he finally straightened, his polished shoes clicking against the hardwood as he moved toward the hallway. The flames cast his sharp features in dancing shadows.

"Enough." A single word that silenced the room. "You seek answers? Very well."

He turned, his eyes gleaming with something darker than arrogance. "I know your secrets because I made it my business to know. Just as I know the Witch Hunters are already mobilizing. Of course, you do not know what the Witchhunters are or what we did. That is by design. You see," the Benefactor continued, tracing the silver handle of his cane, "magic used to exist until it no longer did. My organization, founded by my ancestors two thousand years ago, made it our mission to eridicate all traces of mages and their magic. We ripped it out root and stem until it was just a myth a parent would tell their children as they tucked them into bed."

A collective gasp seemingly filled the room but the sound was entirely Lena. Lena felt Jackson tense beside her.

“I was born to carry on that mission and I did until I was ousted by their leader three months ago." He let that hang in the air, watching if a shock rippled through them. "Oh yes. The modern Witch Hunters forced the old guard. Instead of tradition, and tried and tested methods we now deal with accountants with silver bullets, bureaucrats with crosses, and supposed tech geniuses who are drugged out of their minds every single day speaking as if his word is gospel. What they had was money, and they leveraged it to remove me. And when magic returned..." He tapped his temple. "I gained the unfortunate gift of clairvoyance. Visions of the future, of those who had magic around me, and what role they might play in the coming struggles. I saw you as you were and what you were doing so that is how I know."

"Okay,” Jackson interrupted, his eyebrows shot up, lips parting slightly as if punched by the revelation. The easygoing creases around his eyes smoothed into something blank and shocked like the face of a man who’d just realized he’d stepped into quicksand. “First off, you expect us to believe a self-described witchhunter wants to help mages? And that you’re family started what sounds like a genocide against people with magic? And that you, of all people, gained magic despite what your family did? And that you want to help," Jackson raised his hands into the air and waved them in front of his face. Internally, his thoughts fared no better than his words. He was distraught, dismayed, and disturbed by the idea of working for a monster.

The Benefactor's laugh was a dry crack. "I want to survive. As do you. Those idiots in charge forgot to remove me from the group chat. They have talked about the return of magic, and are confident they are about to find their first one holed up in a cabin in the woods. Your cabin, Lena. My visions show witch pyres burning in city squares within the year." He gestured to the window, where distant lightning flickered. "The world won't tolerate what it fears. It never has, and it may never will. They'll come for the firestarter first." His gaze locked on Lena, then flicked to Jackson. "Then the tidecaller. Then the rest of you, one by one, until all of magic is returned to the lands of fables."

A muscle in Jackson’s jaw twitched as the Benefactor casually mentioned witch pyres. His nostrils flared, the amber hue of his eyes darkening like water tainted with blood. The tired, familiar weight of prejudice settled over his shoulders though they were heavier now with the knowledge that their so-called "savior" had once orchestrated the same threats he now faced. His top lip curled, just slightly, revealing a flash of teeth.

"Magic death cult" Lena's voice was steel-wrapped in smoke yet hushed as a barely audible whisper. "Did you bring us here to form some magic death cult?"

The Benefactor smiled his thinnest smile yet. "I brought you here to give you a choice. Die as scattered, powerless fools... or let me teach you to fight like proper mages." He opened his palm, revealing a silver hunter's medallion - now cracked down the middle. "The only question is: which terrifies you more? Them... or what you'll have to become to stop them?"

Then, all at once, Jackson’s face slackened. His shoulders slumped forward, and he dragged a calloused hand down his face, fingers catching on the stubble along his jaw. The exhale he released wasn’t just breath it was the sound of a man too exhausted to even muster proper anger. "Of course,"that exhale seemed to say. "Of course the one person who knows how to fight them is the reason we need to in the first place."

When his hand dropped away, his expression had settled into something dangerously calm—the quiet of a river freezing over. "Let me guess," he said, voice low and rough. "Your ‘lessons’ come with strings."

Jackson didn’t blink. But Lena, watching him closely, saw the way his thumb absently traced the inside of his wrist—where his hydromancy first manifested.

The Benefactor tilted his head, the firelight carving shadows under his cheekbones as he considered Jackson. "Though it may be an oversimplification," he said, tapping his cane once on the floorboards, "you’re not incorrect." He stepped closer, the scent of bergamot and gun oil clinging to him. "I teach you to contain magic's dangers—because unchecked, your power is as likely to kill you as the hunters. You may end up killing innocent people trying to protect yourself and others. I train you to hunt monsters and protect people. And yes, you’ll protect me. Not out of loyalty, but because my death would leave you blind to their movements, and make no mistake you will die alone." His smile was all teeth. "Quid pro quo implies you and I benefit, Mr. Stone. This is... mutually assured survival."

Jackson’s fingers twitched, droplets of lake water beading along his wrists like sweat. The air smelled suddenly of ozone and wet stone—his magic prickling under his skin. "So we’re just trading one collar for another."

Before the Benefactor could respond, Lena snorted. "Remind me again why we can't just take our magic and run for Canada? I think I might take my chances across the lake." Lena finished with a thumbs up but, accidentally, flicked a blue ember off her thumb and watched as it fell to the ground below, the polished wood singeing in response. Lena froze. Even the Benefactor’s polished composure cracked for a millisecond with just a twitch at the corner of his mouth that might’ve been irritation or reluctant amusement.

“At least we’d have free healthcare.”

The Symphony: Modern Magic

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---

“Tuesday, April 15th 00:10’

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---

The room fell into a moment of silence for the destroyed bust, save for the faint shuffle of shoes on the ground and the occasional nervous cough. Lena leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, as she surveyed the small group of people who had gathered. Her eyes landed on a short, stocky figure with damp hair and a faint smell of lake water clinging to them. Beside them stood a half-elf clutching the remains of what had once been a cherry pie, now reduced to a sad, smushed mess.

Lena couldn’t resist raising the mood. She listened as everyone introduced themself and waited for her moment to strike. Eventually, a smell wafted her way and she had it.

“Hey, Cailean,” she called out, her voice dripping with mock concern. “I love the smell of your cologne, is that Eau de Dockwater? It’s very,” Lena flashed a genuine smile, “fresh. Good thinking on the pie, though, who would’ve thought we would be down one already.”

Her eyes flashed to Jackson who simply shook his head. He had always told her that her jokes could sometimes go from good-natured fun to mean quickly, and judging by his reaction she may be perceived as mean. Lena did not like that and she knew she had to change the story.

“It was dark in here and Jackson was hearing voices and seeing shadows,” Lena forgot to mention that it was she who heard the voice, and she paused as she pointed towards the destroyed bust, “he got scared and the bust was what he took that fear out on. A sad story.”

“That is not how I remember it going,“ Jackson said as he crossed his arms. “I recall-“

“Shush, shush, shush” Lena started but paused as she heard a tapping sound.

*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*

Lena turned her head to the doorway to the next room. The tapping sound was harsh and sounded like a thin object striking the tile floor and it sounded like it was coming from above them. The room fell silent as measured footsteps echoed down a staircase and filled the room of these would-be mages. The steps continued downward, out of sight, but each one was deliberate and measured. Eventually, they stopped just around the corner and the room was once again silent.
Then, a man turned the corner and the group was face-to-face with The Archivist.

He was an imposing figure, tall and lean, who carried with him an air of calculated precision that bordered on arrogance. A neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp features, and his piercing eyes seemed to dissect the room with a single, dismissive glance. Dressed in a tailored suit that looked like it belonged to another era, he carried himself with the kind of authority that made it clear he expected obedience. His ears were pointed, giving away his Elvish lineage. A silver cane rested in one hand, though he didn’t seem to need it for support—it was more like a prop, a tool to emphasize his superiority.

“Ah,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with condescension, each syllable enunciated with a crisp British accent. “The rabble hath arrived. How… quaint. I suppose punctuality is too much to ask from those unaccustomed to the concept of timekeeping.” The man paused as he pulled out his stopwatch. While he knew that it was set five minutes ahead, that did not excuse this sorry excuse for a group from not being early.

He stepped further into the room, the cane tapping lightly against the floor with each deliberate step. His gaze swept over the assembled group, lingering briefly on each face as if mentally cataloging their flaws. When his eyes landed on Lena and Jackson, there was a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or disdain. They followed the smell and landed on Cailean, and his face recoiled with disgust. Mason drew a dismissive look. Azure warranted a longer look, and the Archivist chuckled ever so at the way this man carried himself. Every member of the group drew a look, and overall it seemed this man before them was not impressed by what he saw.

The Archivist’s gaze lingered on the group for a moment longer, his expression a mix of disdain and faint amusement as if he were observing a collection of particularly unimpressive insects. He snapped his stopwatch shut with a sharp click and tucked it back into his pocket, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

“Well,” he said, his tone dry and dripping with condescension, “I suppose we must make do with what we have. However, I must say, that the universe’s standards appear to have… slipped. I mean really, is this the best magic could bring?” His eyes flicked to Cailean and his nose wrinkled slightly. “And you,” he said, pointing the tip of his cane in their direction, “might consider investing in a towel. Or perhaps a bath. The smell is… terrible.”

The Archivist raised an eyebrow as he pointed toward Pom, his lips curling into a faint, mocking smile. “How generous that you too brought pie. Though I fail to see how a destroyed pastry has brought anything of value to this gathering.”

Lena snorted, unable to help herself. “He does not like pie,” she whispered towards Cailean. The Archivist’s sharp eyes snapped to her, and she quickly schooled her expression into something resembling innocence. “Sorry,” she said, holding up her hands. “Just… appreciating the feedback. Really constructive stuff. You are doing really great with this first impression and all. I like it.”

The Archivist’s gaze narrowed, but before he could respond, Jackson stepped in. He got in between the man and Lena, and used his massive frame to look down on The Archivist. As he did this, Burnie Cinder floated over his head and grew larger and more vibrant in color. “We’re not here to be scolded, nor are we looking for your approval. So, how about we skip the critiques and get to the part where you tell us why we’re here, how you knew we had magic, and what you know before I make a doorway through your wall over there and leave.”

Lena remained silent, the tension thickening as the Archivist turned his full attention to Jackson by craning his neck back. For a moment, it seemed like he might unleash a scathing retort, but then he chuckled—a low, humorless sound. He placed his cane in his armpit and then clapped three times before he took a step forward.

“Bravo! Brave words,” the Archivist said, his tone icy. “But bravery without competence is merely recklessness. Let us hope, for your sake, that you possess at least a modicum of the latter.”

“Brave words,” Lena whispered, mimicking the Archivist’s tone. “But recklessness wit-”

Jackson tapped Lena on the shoulder to hush her as he grinned, though his eyes were still wary. He had a bad feeling about the man, and wondered if it was worth it to even

The Archivist simply looked at Lena with the sides of his eyes and scoffed. “I have lived a long life, girl,” he started and leaned forward, “and you have already proven yourself to be as annoying as anyone I have met so congratulations.” He tapped his cane on the ground sharply. “We don’t have time to waste. Follow me and-”

“Hold up for just a minute,” Lena paused as she took a step towards the middle of the group, “we have a lot of questions that you need to answer first. Like what is magic, why did we develop it, and why the fuck are you such a cunt” Lena paused as she threw her arms out wide, “I think we deserve to have some questions answered first, before we do anything with you.”

“We’ll get to that when we-”

“NO.” Burnie Cinders spelled into the air as it flew from it’s perch above Jackson and landed in front of The Archivist

“You heard the fire. We have questions, you have answers, and we want them now.”

“Very well,” The Archivist placed the cane on the ground and put one hand on top of the other on top of the cane. A look of profound annoyance fell over his face, and he looked at the group with a particular disdain. “Ask away.”

The Symphony: Modern Magic

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“Tuesday, April 15th 00:05’

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The mansion’s interior was as grand as it was unsettling. The foyer stretched high above them, its ceiling lost in shadow. A chandelier hung precariously overhead, its crystals catching the faint light from Burnie’s flames and scattering it in fractured patterns across the walls. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and something faintly metallic, like copper or rust. Lena hesitated just inside the doorway, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor.

“Okay,” she muttered, glancing around. “This is officially creepy.”

Jackson stepped in beside her, his broad frame filling the space. “Yeah, no kidding. Feels like we just walked into a horror movie. I like your odds though of being the final girl.”

“Is it because I’m the only girl here,” Lena chuckled as age looked around some more.

“I plead the-“ The door creaked shut behind them, the sound echoing through the empty halls. Lena spun around, her heart racing, but there was no one there. Just the heavy, ornate door, now closed tight. Jackson sighed as he placed his hands on his hips, “-the fifth.”

“Great,” she said, forcing a laugh. “No turning back now.”

Jackson gave her a reassuring smile, though his eyes were scanning the room warily. “Should we wait here or-”

”Let’s wait and see what happens”

They both looked around the room. The walls were lined with portraits and busts of heads, and their eyes seemed to like directly at the two wayward mages. Lena shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

“Do you feel like they’re watching us?” she asked, her voice low.

Jackson nodded, his expression tense. “Yeah.”

Lena glanced at Burnie, who was flickering nervously, his light dimming and flaring in erratic bursts. “You too, huh?” she murmured to the fire. “Guess it’s not just me.”

As they walked a little further into the room, the feeling of unease grew stronger. Lena’s skin prickled, and she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was just out of sight, lurking in the shadows. Every other second she’d see a wraith or a shade, but as soon as she focused her eyes she’d realize it was a coat rack, a chair, or a mirror. However, she did hear something. It almost sounded like something, somewhere, was chanting in a dead language. She didn’t know why she felt it was a dead language but something deep within her core told her so. She glanced at Jackson, who was frowning, his hand twitching which caused water droplets to form in the air around them.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, though his voice was tight. “Just… seeing things. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t.”

Lena nodded, her unease growing. “I think I’m hearing things. Whispers. Can’t make out the words, though.”

Jackson stopped, turning to face her. “Whispers? Like… voices?”

“Yeppers,” Lena said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like… an ancient language or something. I don’t recognize it, but it’s… it’s here, it’s there, it’s every fucking where.”

Jackson’s frown deepened. “This place is messing with us. We need to find a light or something. Get our bearings.”

“Oh we both know that won’t help if it is haunted,” Lena seethed as her heart pounded. They quickened their pace, searching for a light switch or a lamp. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and Lena clapped her hands over her ears, trying to block them out. Jackson’s breathing was ragged now, his eyes darting around as the shadows seemed to shift and twist around them.

Jackson thought he saw a specter flying across the room towards him and he threw a punch, easily punching through the marble bust in front of him. Finally, Jackson spotted a light switch on the wall. He reached for it, his hand trembling slightly, and flipped it on.

The room was flooded with light, the chandelier above them blazing to life. Lena blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. The whispers stopped abruptly, and the shadows retreated, leaving the room looking… normal. Just an old, slightly dusty mansion. Lena could finally see that this room was the parlor room. It was square, the floor was a finely polished Pink Ivory inlaid with stone and the walls were of similar quality and filled to the brim with countless portraits, decorative shelves filled with trinkets, and weaponry all of old Elven design

Jackson shook his head, his expression a mix of relief and confusion. “I think… I think this place is haunted”

Lena let out a shaky laugh, though her nerves were still on edge. “Great. I always wanted to die in a haunted house. Perfect.”

The lights suddenly went out again eliciting a yelp from Lena. The sound of the door creaking open drew mouth their heads sharply back. Like before, the door closed behind the new person.

*Click*

The light turned back on as Jackson flicked the switch. Both Jackson and Lena recoiled at the sudden change from dark to bright, but they did see a figure in the doorway now.. Before their eyes could adjust, the room suddenly went dark once again as the door slammed closed.

“Well this will be annoying if it continues,” Lena scoffed. A moment later the door swung open allowing a pair of people to enter.

*Click*

The cycle would continue and Lena found it annoying. The door would open, a new person would walk through it, Jackson would turn the lights on, the lights would go out and the door would close. Rinse, repeat, and continue over and over until there was over a dozen people assembled in the entryway for this house. Lena was pleasantly surprised that none of them appeared to be the kind of person to lead a cult, but alas the modern age did make it hard to determine that in advance. Her eyes shifted from person to person before she decided to put her hands behind her back.

“So,” she started with a stern tone, “I bet you are wondering why I sent you the letters.”

“She did not send the letters,” Jackson sighed as he waved at the crowd. “Hi! I am Jackson, this is Lena, and the fireball is Burnie Cinders.”

Burnie intensified as it moved in between Lena and the new group. Lena knew he was apprehensive about the gathering crowd and was trying to protect her just in case.

“Let me have my-” Lena stopped speaking as she rubbed her temple. “Is this the part where we each tell each other our powers and our names? Maybe make plans to get a late-night bite after this is done?”