Pirouette

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Silent and still as the grave.

That was an idiom Ysilla heard from a Torragon merchant. He meant it in a jest towards her for how long she had been browsing his wares and yet uttering not a single word. He may have teased her about a corpse but she finally understood possibly where that expression came from. At least she wanted to believe something like this could be the story behind it.

Silent and still lest you become the grave.

Though it was a touch contrived in her opinion, it made the expression fun. Silent and still, in spite of the shaking legs, Ysilla did not budge from her spot. Although when considering what was just within a stone's throw from them and coming closer, she was unsure if her legs were shaking from the draw of magic or her own nerves. Her face would say no but the flittering of her stomach seemed to compel her to want to do something.

She turned her head to glance at her companions. They had all steeled their nerves up to this point but the point of looking around was to focus on two people in particular: Ayla and her sister. She had two puppets and decided then if she heard the wyrm surface, she'd repel each to impact those two in particular to at least give them a chance to evade being swallowed whole. It would take a fast draw but she was confident she could do it. No regrets.

Ever closer the wyrm approached and Ysilla's mark would be the moment it tried to surface to act. It never did.

The beast shifted course towards their bait and Ysilla relaxed, closing her eyes and slowing exhaling her held breath through her nose. She was quite as ecstatic as the others and found herself to be more deflated. The exhaustion of being edge had taken the last bit of stamina she had and would appreciate a much needed rest. Thankfully the gates were not far.

...

Ysilla had wondered what awaited them behind the gates. She had her own imagination and it was fairly close to accurate. The various states of decrepit young life seemed like a tragedy. She wondered what life was like here, glancing around ignoring the showmanship of her sister. It was the call of a young girl that did get her attention. Her gaze shifted and studied the little one with a passive face as she poured out everything on her mind at once.

The witch bent down, bringing her face level with the girl's. "May I see your hat?" She asked cracking a small smile. Curious that the girl would focus on Ysilla's hat first. It was the first thing she probably thought of when she saw her enter the gates. She must be so proud of her own pretty neat hat so naturally, Ysilla must return the compliment.

Before she could get a satisfying resolution, a pistol shot would ring out and interrupt them. Why the interruption? She did not know and trying to turn back to the girl, she'd see her shooed off. This grated the puppet witch, her eyes narrowing at the one that scolded her new friend away. She continued to watch that one even with Tavio delivering uninteresting excuses.

Ysilla remained quiet for the rest of the night. She was busy surveying the details of the enclosure and wondering how the days looked like. She would have liked to stay here a few days, quietly watching to see how they lived. For now, she would take her bath and enjoy the rest.

O R I F L A M M E

Camille, Dami's Paragon of the Innocent

“There I was, pinned under that damned beast, slow as it was, and left praying to the very gods that cursed me with a bum leg. They answered though.
Mounted on a magnificent steed, I witnessed the gold light of Dami’s Scale in her armor and the Hammer in her sword.
I was judged to live awhile longer, praise the Judge for her.
Dami Guide Her and bless her for my life.”

Camille De la Saumure__ _ _ _ _

17 | F E M A L E | P A R R E N C E | THUNDER + FORCE + ESSENCE | K N I G H T__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

Depending on who you ask, the description for Camille changes what they heard and who they heard it from. Some say she is a seven foot tall giant of a woman, others claim her skin is hued with gold, and even some that believe Camille is a man.

The truth beyond the myth of Dami’s Chosen is that Camille is a nearly eighteen year old girl, thrusted into the mantle of apparent sainthood. She measures at an average height of five feet and six inches, average build although she has noted some more defined muscles and a gain of weight within the past year but hardly enough to make a man strain himself to carry her. Her dark hair is kept short, barely reaching her neck with her bangs cut to keep her face, and embellished boyish features, apparent. She maintains unimpressive brown eyes and bears hardly any scarring throughout her form.

And no.
She doesn’t have golden skin.

Truth behind the Myth

Her conviction is quite different to the stories paint as well. Camille isn’t this strongly motivated force of Dami’s Judgment. She is a teenaged girl who believed she witnessed a vision from the Pentad to perform one act in devotion. An act that swiftly swept her up into playing a much larger role, one she didn’t even dream, let alone conceive.

At times she believes she never wanted any of this but has to deal with the curse of knowing that she’d crush so many hopeful people by being anything different. How many people would have died if she had not been there? What would people say when she saw her if she quit? What if she saw someone else who needed help? What happens if they think she is a fraud? What would the gods do to her if she rejected their blessing? These questions haunt her at night if she ever considers quitting and so she can’t. Ever onward until the end, using her faith in the Pentad to push herself to try and remain the image of this saint people all believe.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Born as Camille to an older couple, Pierre and Berenice, living in Port Morilles, she was an only child due to the general infertility that her parents had. Port Morilles, Camille’s birthplace, was a well established one on the southeastern coast of Perrench. It prospered on the back of mushroom trade to foreign nations which allowed the town to be relatively well off compared to others of its size in Perrench. Her parents were commoners though her father as a leatherworker, afforded him a slightly higher standing as a craftsmen, it still did not benefit Camille in any obvious way. The town, however, did.

With the wealth afforded by healthy trade routes, Port Morilles managed to afford a stone wall to close off the small peninsula. This pushed people to build up and inside the walls are three to four story buildings to jam as much population as possible in the safety of those walls. Port Morilles was bustling but protected from any Eskandr incursions leading to low stress inside the walls.

Camille remembers her childhood here fondly with the community being very supportive and uplifting. Her parents were surprisingly aloof towards her in contrast. Some of the other children her age would tease her about not being a boy as that had something to do with family inheritance but it just struck Camille as odd that they would treat their only child like that.

She was fairly quiet and independent as a child. When her mother would finally release her from daily choirs or when her father would stink up their whole floor with the smells of rotted hide, she’d slip away into Port Morilles. Sometimes she’d even be content just walking along the beach outside the walls on her own, letting the sand run through her toes.

Yet with any paradise, came with coveting eyes and it would be in her sixteenth year that Camille would find out exactly who the Eskandr were. Up this point, she had heard the stories and terrors that these raiders would bring but they never tried to take on the walls of Port Morrilles. However, one Eskandr raid chieftain had finally been tempted enough.

That day, Camille remembers vividly as that changed who she was going to become.

They came with a two-pronged attack. A few longships harried the coastal wall while an advanced party would land out of view and go for the landside gate. With the defenders focused on the seaside, there were few to offer an intimidating resistance on the landside. At the time, Camille just remembered having to run back home past the seaside gate. The shouts of orders above, howls and growls of the Eskandr unseen. She was terrified as her parents pulled her inside. Her father stood at the door to know what was going on. He might have even wanted to help from the way he was pacing back and forth. That’s how she heard it.

”The other gate! The other gate! They are going to break through!” One of the sentries from the landside gate said, running past her home towards the seaside gate. Camille didn’t realize what that meant before her father and mother were ushering her, pulling her even, to run for Lord Gabriel’s keep. It was only when they were running through the streets did she realize what was going to happen if they got in.

She prayed in her head, desperately for the guards to hold the landside gate. They had to. There was no other way for everyone here to escape. Among the scrambling through the tight streets, Camille would catch sight of a guard. Then another. Followed by another. They weren’t going for landside gate. They were leaving it, headed towards the keep.

Camille’s heart dropped at the sight. Her whole life had been in this town, was really going to be destroyed just like in the stories she heard about? Why in the gods good graces allow this? She felt tears well in her eyes as pictured everything she loved burned to ash. How was that fair?

When life looked darkest, did a light shine through.

Through a gap between buildings, sunlight shined through. The rays piercing the smoke of a panicked fire caused by an accidental out of control fire at the blacksmith. The light rays hit and lit up the head of the blacksmith’s hammer, laying there on the road in front of Camille and for a brief moment the light reflected off of the metal head and flashed in Camille’s eyes, blinding her.

In that briefest of moments, she saw both forms of Dami carrying the banner of Lord Gabriel’s blue dove and the blacksmith’s hammer and crested on his chest was a golden lily, blooming. He reached out offering Camille to take both the banner and the hammer and then he looked towards the gate before vanishing and she was back in the street, kneeling before the hammer.

In the panic, her parents had gotten ahead of her and the whole town was on the verge of chaos but the gods had told Camille how to prevent that and as terrified as she was, she would not let her heart burn.

She picked up the hammer and found the Lord Gabriel’s banner getting a metal cap attached to its pole for planting into the ground. Another sign of Dami’s will! Picking the banner up with the other hand, she began to run towards the gate. Other than a few curious glances, she wasn’t seeing anyone willing to follow her. She prayed to Dami in her head as she ran, reciting over and and over again.

“Let others find courage and follow! Let others find courage and follow!”

Over and over again she repeated this mantra, focusing on it. It took her a one more minute, nearly at the gate, when she realized a mass of people were following her, arming themselves. They were going to fight for their town! Her heart! Her god!

Camille lead the host of guards and people towards the gate just as it was slammed open by the horde of Eskandr. The sight it must have been to see for the Eskandr hesitated and that was enough encouragement for the surge of her kin to charge. The gateway was filled with people fighting blocking her from engaging, all for but one.

There was a large enough break in the gate from earlier that one of the Eskandr, a smaller boy maybe a little older than Camille, had slipped in. He emerged from a building in complete shock to the change on the streets. Nobody had noticed him, save for Camille and she felt compelled to charge. He noticed her, shakedly drawing his sword and swinging wildly.

“Spare me and let me swing your hammer! Spare me and let me swing your hammer!”

The Eskandr’s sword swung high, surprise in his face for a moment before she swung her hammer down on his face with such a force, the skull fractured and the fight was over an instant. She collapsed as the adrenaline wore off.

Awakening in the evening, she was greeted by Lord Gabriel himself in his keep. Word of her valor to lead the defense of the landgate had reached even his ears and that it would be wrong to deny the gods their wish to let Camille lead the people in their defense. She was knighted and spent nearly a year in training and running with levy to defend the shores of Perrench from any who would do Her harm!

In Virtue, Justice

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

Platemail, tabard of her colors, greatsword, shield, shortsword, Perrin (her horse), her banner mounted on a pole, holy symbol of Dami, symbol of the lily flower (Fleur-de-lis), bag of sand from Port Morilles

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Unmeasured (~Third Wheel) | Thunder + Force + Essence | Unbeknownst

Camille’s relationship with her Gift is complicated. She doesn’t know she has one, for good reason, and would at this point choose not to believe she has the Gift. All her channeling comes from her strong belief that her prayers are being answered by the Pentad. There are some important parameters for her channeling to be successful in this unorthodox expression. First, that she is still channeling like any other Gifted, she just doesn’t see it that way. Second, her intention must be clearly defined in her mind and must be obtainable by means of magic. Third, her capability of channeling in this manner is limited by at least half her true potential.

The benefit is that Camille is able to channel without really knowing how to channel. She will use her Gift to manipulate attributes to make her a more efficient fighter passively at this point. For example, she will pray to the gods to lighten her burden when feeling the weight of her armor and she will channel Thunder Magic to repel her armor to make it feel light. This is a spell she has channeled almost everyday for the past year and requires no more than a quick prayer to make it so. Something new and complex may require her to pray several phrases repeatedly to find the right focus to successfully channel.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Blessed Saint: Whether you believe the gods blessed Camille or not, reality shows that Camille is often on the advantageous side of fortune. She doesn’t know she has the Gift but managing to channel magic unintentionally through her singular focused prayers regardless is evidence to that point.
❖ Legendary: The legend also prescribes a certain reverence from commonfolk, at least those that know her tale. Few women wear platemail, fewer still are younger than themselves. She is easily recognizable for all the good and bad that will come with that.
❖ Communal: She adored the closeness in the community of her hometown. Everyone tried to get along with one another, probably due to the relative abundance of her hometown. She is willing to give her kin the benefit of the doubt and has a patience for others. Up until they class with her ideals, anyway.
❖ Conviction: At the center of Camille’s driving motivation is her belief that the good should prosper. Good people deserve happy lives and she has always held this in her heart. After being ascended by her vision, she is absolutely sure that the good deserve the gifts of the world while the evil should be judged. The gods told her so, after all.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Reliance: If you take away her Gift, she is a 17 year old girl and incapable of swinging a ten pound greatsword while dressed in full armor for collapsing in exhaustion. She needs to channel to make her armor lighter so she can walk, sword lighter so she can swing, and mood enhancement to keep people fighting!
❖ Jocasta’s Box: If opened, you reveal to Camille that she has the Gift after all revealing the extent of all the new potential she can reach. This comes at the cost of shaking her belief, if you can convince her in the first place. A belief that has, successfully up to this point, lead to her channeling magic to enhance her abilities. You shake her belief, she doubts her abilities and then she might not be able to reliably channel again. Is it better to open the box or keep it closed?
❖ Naivety: Camille still holds the world in a positive light having only seen some of the nastiness that the world holds. She has killed her first person (after crying about it later that night and for the next several nights) and has ventured around Perrach this past year to see more of the world. She believes she has everything figured out but as she explores more, both the world and the depths people are willing to go, there will be events that shake her significantly.
❖ Uneducated: Being a commoner at birth afforded her no luxury of a proper education. Although this makes it easier for her to find faith in the gods, it limits her abilities to comprehend new concepts, understand strategies, or realize connections as fast as others around. It also affects her ability to relate and interact with nobility.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ 0072bc

O R I F L A M M E

@Force and Fury

I am close to being done with my character. Tonight should be finished.

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

The excitement was over almost as soon as it began. Her companions were moving on and the silent puppeteer, Ysilla, followed in silence. Her cloak pulled around to cover her so only her face had to bear the worst of the cold this night. She would have been fine making the trek in silence but her companions were quick to break into conversation. They each had their musings of exchanging bits of themselves. Most were uninteresting topics to her aside from the novelty of just how each person acted. Ayla's infectious positivity was drawing the others to her like moths to a flame. It made sense, being a moth herself, but it was intriguing to watch from afar... even though Ysilla's mood drifted to jealousy. Those moths could find their own flame.

Speaking of the others, they mostly left Ysilla alone. Her sister was obvious but the others, at least Ysilla suspected, were disarmed by the fact she never liked to talk. She'd even let questions asked of her go by unanswered if she counted them as the "small talk" sort. It wasn't out of malice but rather there was nothing interesting or revealing about a person in small talk. It was another border put in place to protect people from revealing who they truly were. A waste of time. That's what made Ayla more appealing to her. The girl loved to talk, putting others at ease, and it apparently never bothered the little lioness that Ysilla didn't talk back. Might have even enhanced their relationship in a way, but that was Ysilla's belief rather than a fact.

So when she offered nothing in response to the Snakewood suggestion, they understood each other, at least Ysilla hoped. Her smile was the bridge she created to express her interest. Snakewood could be used as a medium for a puppet although the pattern would be utilized with a snake. The only wooden snake puppets she knew of were the ones constructed out of many segmented pieces allowing the figure to slither. The issue was that the segments were spaced out with nothingness in between them, like a snake's skeletal structure. That was the only way it could move, though maybe you could...

"Sand Wyrm!"

Sand Wyrm?

That wasn't good judging from the tone shift from the jovial mood earlier. Some of them knew this was bad. Ysilla's mind went to planning escape for a moment before Ayla brought her attention in. Dança-Alsahra A game? Curious time to be-oh. It made sense. A character in a play might often make a connection to something that they are familiar with if it helps them in a given situation.

Instructions on what to do next came. Bigger was something she could do. The school of Magnetic magic had been her mainstay for years now. She practiced on always sensing and maintaining her creations around her. She naturally had a sense, like a magnetic pull, where her puppets were and could relate that to actual magnetic objects. At this stage, Ysilla's range was about fifty meters to sense magnetic objects and buried in the sand she could feel all sorts of natural or lost material that fit the description. Necessary because Ysilla believed Ayla didn't just want size but weight, too. While Kaspar drew sand, Ysilla drew all the objects buried around them. Remnants of weaponry and armor, buried stones, and all others she could find buried around them were pulled from the sand and offered to their enlarging tuning fork.

When her part was done, Ysilla stifled her breathing and did her best to remain upright but keeping her cloak closed, her legs wobbled in weakness from the draw threatening to give out. It was her natural reaction when exerting herself, like the first thing to go would be her sense of balance.

She did her part, however, and now it was to them. Watching carefully as Ayla's plan was enacted before being left to stand perfectly still amid her weak knees...

O R I F L A M M E

I heed Thine call and rejoice,
For I have known nothing else

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Conflict was such a prominent feature in stories that you would be scarce to find a performance without one taking shape in some form. Physical conflict was an easy way to display the narrative device but it was not a limited method by any means. Ysilla understood that and while those stories had their charm, she loved stories that didn't feature physical conflict, stories such has Hassum's Climb and Last Flower in Yu's Garden. The former dealing with Hassum making one last offering at the top of a holy mountain. He wasn't dying but moving on with his life, setting out for a new land and moving past the hinted at trauma. The latter was more solemn with a drought killing all but one flower in a garden. Yu was willing to do whatever she could to preserve that last flower. Not once did they have to physically fight and end a life. It was more about cherishing it.

Although physical conflict was not her in her palette, she nevertheless familiarized herself with the act though she distanced herself as best as she could. She isolated herself and remained a distance away from her walk while the others did their performances. She did hers, stalling for a time as Hoopoe carried Khamsei around one of the Halassa. The porcelain jester's continious laugh egging the rabid beast to an even further madness, she mused. The creatures jaw snapped in the air missing the pair of puppets flying around. This one was 'hers', she continued to entertain the idea of companions' stories beginning here with this test.

She could give her puppets half a mind, leading the creature away as she glanced over at the others. They were all succeeding or in the process of doing so in their own unique way that melded with their character. A study for later because she did not want to tarry long.

Turning her full attention back to her Halassa. She finally gave the creature it was so hoping for. Hoopoe swooped towards the snapping jaw, releasing the laughing puppet to dive bomb towards the creature's mouth. In the enraged state, it thought nothing of snapping its mouth around the small figure that presented itself. It was almost swallowed nearly whole save for the left wrist of Khamsei which was caught by the jaw of the snapping turtle. Ysilla winced at the sudden strain her body felt as she maintained the thin repulsive field around her puppet. It might have been more prudent to let Khamsei lose his hand to punish him for his foolishness of throwing his arms up in excitement but he couldn't be fully blamed. Not yet, anyway.

The Halassa opened its jaw again and lifted its head, plunging Khamsei down its throat. Even though Ysilla couldn't see her puppet anymore, she could sense where it was like a magnetic pull towards her creation. She didn't wait long after the swallow before Ysilla concentrated, her hands twisting and fingers curling around an imaginary orb in between her hands. It was a way for her to concentrate as the magnetic field around Khamsei intensified, and the puppet inside reached out stopping himself in the Halassa's throat. If the creature felt this agitation, it made no sign of it as it pursued Hoopoe who continued to drone around it.

The field around Khamsei continued to grow in strength but the Halassa would feel no change until Ysilla believed she had enough magnetic strength stored. The magnetic charge based around the Halassa's neck would be given the opposite charge of Khamsei's and him, bearing such incredible magnetic charge, would repulse the flesh around himself. The end result was near instantaneous and messy.

The Halassa's neck exploded in a violent decapitation, showering blood in the nearby area and sending the head flying. Khamsei pulled Hoopoe towards him through the shower but both were protected from the mess as drops of the creature's blood hit and illuminated the thin layer of magnetic repulsion both had. The puppets collided but the Ysilla dropped the intensity of her channeled magnetic field so the two, after crashing together quickly spun out of their impact and back to Hoopoe carrying Khamsei back, this time returning to Ysilla.

Ysilla lifted her hat and threw open her cloak as Khamsei was released to fall into a cling on the creator's waist while Hoopoe came to roost on her head. Both were quickly concealed as Ysilla replaced her hat and closed her cloak after Khamsei crawled around to her back once more.

The puppeteer would return to her now congregating party to the offer of coffee by her sister. Quietly refusing the offer with a lifted hand, she tucked herself in her cloak again. Though she showed no sign of it, she was quietly lamenting the waste of life aberration could cause. Such a shame that it had to be this way but it was better a creature than the more valuable life of a sentient being like her companions...

Oh well, the Writer may favor Tragedy now but in time, Ysilla may be able to deny even that.

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Tick,
Tock

The freshman dormitory had been enveloped in silence for the past hour aside from the subtle hymns of a ticking clock. It was a silence born from the intense focus required for the task. Under the light of an oil lamp and zoom of a few magnifying glasses, Ysilla worked on just one part of her craft. A drop of golden paint nestled on the end of the tiniest brush you might have ever seen. Delicately she worked to apply that drop across the raised ridge on the wooden carving of a lion's mane half-painted mane, denoting a single hair in that mane.

It was a level of commitment that was unnecessary but a self-exam of her abilities, nonetheless. The truth of it was, wood was not the best material to carve a lion puppet out of. It would only ever be life-like, not alive. The hair she just painted would never flow in the wind like that of a proud lion catching a breeze on a windy day. Aside from that, it was far too small to represent something proud being no larger than a common housecat. Yet it, along with the many other figures that sat in this room, watching their creator work on a new addition, were all prized for the lessons learned in their creation.

The eyes of animals, monsters, and even people were all simulated in Ysilla's dormitory. All given the same amount of care as this lion but only a handful were ever given more. Two of such acclaim, hung onto her, a passive extension of her unconscious will. They were kept close because they were far more than mere figures but tools to be used by should the need arise. That need was coming and she was ready the moment it arrived. She hardly went out anyway.

---

She was one of a small number to arrive. Her presence came without sound, quietly but respectfully bowing the Paradigm as she separated herself the concentration of others, preferring to maintain a silent vigil over this sudden meeting. She sat, one hand layered over the other and listened to each as they talked. Details of what they were called her for and exchanges between the others were as equally important to her. How were they reacting and acting? It was curiosity of hers, not that she didn't react or act. Quite the contrary, she loved to do so when the moment was right but she could never break her more monotone expressions without it seeming too forced. It was her way and very much unlike her sister.

Ysilla accepted her sister's offer of coffee just as wordlessly as it was offered. There weren't too many words exchanged between the pair these days. Ysilla never was a conversationalist but there was little she had to say to her twin sister. Little she wanted to hear from her as well. With a focused stare, she'd watch her sister offer others coffee silently wondering what she has been up to lately.

It wasn't a very occupying thought as Jocasta took that attention as she politely refused a cup. Such a curious character to be present at this meeting. Sure wizards and witches didn't need strong constitutions but there was something disarming about seeing one in a wheelchair. She was such a small figure and yet as the meeting went on, she had such strong opinions despite her frailness and even timidness in her voice. Many plays would feature a character with such fragility. An apparent shortcoming that was made up for by a strong and noble heart and yet...

Zamira

Ysilla had been sitting near motionless, except to take the occasional drink of coffee, this entire meeting. At the mispronunciation of her sister's name, however, she tilted her head, expression bending into one of a mild ponder. It was a note far beyond the usual noble heart character. Her sister didn't even have a difficult name for non-native speakers to pronounce and yet here it was, passing the lips of someone that in the very next breath applied an extensive curtesy. Was it deliberate? Ysilla pondered for an answer, believing that it was but she tried to rationalize that belief by looking at who Jocasta was as a whole. Passive aggressive to make up for unintimidating appearance? An intriguing personality quirk.

There was little else in the meeting from that point on. They were given a blessing and a portal to go on their way.

Emerging out into the sandy dark terrain of a desert night, Ysilla pulled her cloak closed in front of her, a subtle display of the cold bothering her. She made no sound of the discomfort as Jocasta announced the alert of incoming danger and being in the back, witnessed Ayla's struggle with the cold or fright. Delicate would be more suited to the lithe and small character falling onto the sand. The thought slipped into Ysilla's mind to help her up and even offer her place inside her cloak if it was truly the cold. They could be warmer huddled together but it wasn't the practicality that made Ysilla want to ask. She yearned for the Torragonese to be close to her. When the moment came to ask, her throat dried and she did not speak, letting the moment get away.

Regret was quick to follow as she watched her friend jump to her feet and move headlong into the encroaching Halassa.

Oh right.

Stepping forward, Ysilla made no urgent movements as she stood next to Jocasta. Watching the approaching beasts, she finally spoke. "Five encounters five." The towering Virangish would turn her head down at her sitting companion. "One for each of our party to trial against." She held the other's gaze, unmoving as if searching for something but her tone was as stern as it could be. This was not an observation but a demand. They were tasked with something dangerous and one that could be a liability wasn't worth having tag along. "Agreed?" She cocked her head ever so slightly to the side, towards the beasts.

If Jocasta say anything other than stating her agreement, Ysilla would turn and walk away. Without stopping a step, she'd fling her cloak open, allowing the cold to kiss her along her silk outfit underneath. One hand would reach behind her back, the magnetic magic already being channeled to make the black and gold clothed figure, Khamsei scamper out onto her arm. Her other hand pulled her hat from her head, revealing the nesting pearlescent lavender bird, Hoopoe.

She'd lift Hoopoe out in front of her, the jester shaking his head with a monotone laugh. "Haaahaaahaa." He rose to his feet, reaching up. Hoopoe rose to her feet and stretched her wings with caw. The bird then leapt from the top of Ysilla's head, her feet dangling for Khamsei to grab them and the pair took off into the air. Khamsei's laugh hollered across the dunes as the pair approached the Halassa.

Hoopoe flapped her wings but something about how she flew seemed uncanny, like a bird caught in a wind. She was merely being pushed along by Ysilla's will. She watched the pair and almost passively, she made them move but even made moves ever so slightly. Like Khamsei's legs kicking wildly in the air like he was having a grand time, with his head turning to gaze at the landscape.

His laughs, distant, but still audible as the pair came swooping in towards the head of one of the Halassa.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

There are various other, minor sorcerers, witches, wizards, magi, etc. for you to pull from within Marvel and DC. Ones that others will not likely use or care about, so you'd be free to reinvent them for your purposes. That way you keep your story beats and don't restrict other potential Doc Strange players to what you've established.

@Retired

Anyone fun for me to read up on?

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I would say that for characters like Dr. Fate and Dr. Strange, you might seek alternative plans. Those guys both tend to be pretty important cornerstones of the universe, and relegating them to side characters or supporting cast might be more detrimental than intended. It's a little like me saying that my supporting cast includes Daredevil or The Punisher. There's actually precedent for both characters to be Spider-Man related, and one even debuted under his banner, but they're too big for me to just use without applying for one of them as a second.

@Master Bruce

That's a lot more work when I am mainly just interested in playing Cindy. I wanted her to have no strings to anything going on and showing how that could be horribly depressing. Like if Spider-Man managed drop Peter Parker and just became Spider-Man. It is just crime fighting and that sounds awful. And yet it is something that I think that is thought of for the Spider-Man storyline. So I wanna show the opposite. There is Silk but she is slipping more into wanting to be Cindy Moon and progress on how she grapples that. She'd be in a perfect spot where she wants to help Strange with things. Easy and fun "mission" material for me to write.

I did watch the recent Doctor Strange movie and while I was playing around with the idea of having Cindy being tapped by Strange help him with some trippy magical encounters, it was secondary. So the plan was always to hardly touch him.

If that is still detrimental, I guess I can make Strange as my second character but I wouldn't do anything more with him. It would be a waste especially considering someone might join that wants to play him after seeing the movie.

It sounds like less fun for me but I could have Cindy just self-rescue and drop Strange out entirely. I lose a lot of fun ideas I have in mind.

I'll make him if you think it is vital, I guess.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Hey so I have an idea for Cindy.

Going with her bunker backstory. She gets bit as a child, powers discovered by Ezekiel Sims. Ezekiel believes Morlun is hunting her and stuffs her into a bunker for a few years. It isn't until Doctor Strange discovers her claiming there isn't a Morlun that he knows of so he takes her to the Sanctum Sanctorum until he can find out why someone put her down there.

I'll play a little into Doctor Strange but not a lot. It gives Cindy a lot more to do since she'll not only be adapting to life as a 'normal' kid but she can also jump into spider stuff with Strange's help.

@Master Bruce It affects Spider-Man's story potentially in the future with an Ezekiel Sims and maybe a Morlun. However, that is all very distant and I don't think would affect anything you have planned. Could be something to collab on in the future.

And for anyone else, if you wanted to play as Doctor Strange, the slot is still open. He'll just come with this caveat of having Cindy to watch out for.

If that's fine, I'll go ahead and finish what I have written out.