Derald was relieved that Sunny and him shares the same sentiment about the DoM, Perhaps this common ground is enough for the young gangster to almost trust him.
As soon as Derald was invited to the agency’s group chat through Cipher. He quickly starts tapping his phone and immediately changes his nickname to xxHYDRAxx. This is his gamer tag from his youth. The self-loathing mafioso did have some normalcy in his free time aside from committing juvenile crimes during his childhood like playing video games and such.
He lights up another smoke as he analyzes their team’s first case. This is the third cigar he has taken ever since he arrived here, but hey, who’s counting? It’s his health.
“This is our first client? not gonna lie.. Mrs. Fatma is fine as hell, call me Ceasar cause i think i found my Cleopatra. ” He released a long whistle while looking at the picture.
After hearing Leonardo's brief on her case. His down-bad mood quickly dissipate as Derald's face went somber.
“So that’s her story, huh? Having her child curse like that is just plain despicable, I should know,” He mumbles the last part and clenches his fist. A relatable predicament for the dropout mage.
“In any case, demons don’t just pop out of nowhere; they need a pact, a ritual to be summoned and tethered to this world. Or at least that’s what I know from the movies.” He said in theory.
“I can volunteer to do a quick sweep where her son went prior to his possession last week. checking whether there's a change in Evan's daily routine.” He contributed to the other magus sleuths.
Derald lights a smoke and flicks its ash against an astray. He was all ears about the introductions of the others. Quite an interesting background they have; he felt that he was in the presence of accomplished mages who were really into that occult stuff.
A legitimate relative of D’ famous Animusphere, huh? I thought it was just a code name or something when I first applied and moved to this side of the States. I never thought I would ever meet one of the founding mages of astronomy. His story checks out since he’s British. He mumbled and thought to himself while looking at his new boss.
“Right, before I divulge any information about myself, are you sure you all won’t narc? I wouldn’t want to get in trouble with the local authorities. I feel like that broad gentleman over there has some law enforcement background written all over him.” Derald said, addressing Sunny.
“As much as I hate redundancy, allow me formally reintroduce myself for the sake of building trust with the people I’m working with. My name is Derald. I’m a dropout clocktower student and a mediocre mage at best. I find myself on a different path and pursue my career as an underground entrepreneur,” The young mafioso said, coughing out smoke and waving his hand.
“My magecraft is mostly based on poison and deception; it is inferior compared to other elite mages, but nevertheless, it gets the job done without the fancy stuff. You can use me as an informant and off the books task like spying and such.” He said
“Also, I can provide networks, information, and supplies if you need any, just hook me up ..on one condition: you didn’t hear it from me. “Derald winked.
“So this is the place, kinda reminds me of the back alley deals back in Manhattan, the kind where you can hear a muffled gunshot fired whenever a negotiation has gone south, hopefully this side of the neighborhood isn’t like that.” Derald sighed and looked at the well hidden alleyway where the agency was supposed to be.
“Que sera sera, I guess.” Derald adjusted his scarf and lit a cigarette as he entered the establishment. He skims the area and notices the not-so-ordinary people around it. So far, the way the toxicologist sees it, there’s a weird girl, another weirder girl in a funeral motif, an old reservist, and a boy whom he swears is a part of a mob (he can’t just prove it yet), and a classy chick who he assumes they came here for the same reason as he does.
He takes the last puff of his cigar before flicking it away, respecting the no-smoking policy of the cafe.
“Sorry, I’m a bit late, had to take care of some business. Cleaning up other people’s messes can be a drag.” Derald shifted his eyes averting others, reminiscing about the gang-related task he did this morning by his other employer.
“The name’s Derald, if anyone would care.” He bashfully introduce himself, scratching his neck.
“Just warm water with honey for me. got a frog in my throat.” He said hoarsely, signaling the friendly bartender.
The sickly young practitioner sits by the empty couch and minds his own business. Hopefully, this motley crew won’t mind him coughing every now and then.
Name : Derald Smith Age : 23 Date of Birth : Jan 19,1997 Address : Warehouse no.50, Tidewatch docks (clinic)/ 12f 203 West wing Pearlwind Hotel(condo unit)
C U R R I C U L L U M V I T A E
Education
2011-2013 2nd year student, Clocktower(dropout) Rank: Frame
Work/Organizational Experience
Personal Toxicologist(unlicense) 2016 -present
Independent Product Distributor (Smuggler) - Derald has a criminal network backing and funding him.
---
S K I L L S & O T H E R R E S O U R C E S
Magic Circuit Quantity: D-
Magic Circuit Quality: D
Magic Circuit Switch: A viper’s hiss
Element: Earth
Magecraft:
General Magecraft - All that rudimentary magic they teach at the Clocktower.
Magical Workshop (Backalley Clinic) - Located in the small county of Millahaven, this secret base under his makeshift clinic is where Derald hone and practices his craft.
Pharmacy - Derald is a man who firmly believes in modern medicine.
Item 1
Rags of Nothingness
Derald wears a scarf that conceals his true identity and his presence. Its unnatural scent of dirt and second-hand cigarette smoke dulls the senses of any human to a degree, making him almost unrecognizable to those who rely on those senses alone.
Item 2
Animal Tranquilizer/ Syringe needles/Basic Poison
This functions like a normal hypodermic needle, injecting fluids into one’s skin. Combined with his rudimentary reinforcement magic, Derald can use these needles as a projectile weapon just like an executor can throw their black keys.
Item 3
Cigarette.
Derald is a chain smoker, like a real chugger of this stuff, causing him to have a weak constitution due to years of substance abuse. This curse/blessing serves as a double-edged sword to him. On one hand, he is resistant to poisoning and other mental interference curses. On the other hand, he is pretty much susceptible to other harmful causes of magecraft and natural mortal wounds.
The toxin in his body helps calm his circuits, nerves, and brain, allowing him to stay focused.
Item 4
Fake ID Badge
Derald carries a flip badge that changes its description and image depending on his narrative to those people around him. A simple curse that distorts his image and status with the help of this license and a little sway of his words. Kind of like a reverse innocent monster attribute, this helps Derald blend in with the normal folks as your friendly neighborhood practitioner without being labeled as a part of a notorious gang/occult member due to his appearance.
---
C O V E R L E T T E R
Dear Leonardo Fidano, Head of the Sidereal Agency,
“Sigh I know this sounds desperate but I’m gonna keep it short. I’m Derald Smith, Real name, not my real last name.”
“I’m an ambitious wannabe medical personel who happens to be a mage who’s down on his luck, looking for some employment.”
“I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘mage’ but rather an individual who uses ‘magic’ as a tool to meet one’s end.”
“I’ve done some dirty work in the past and can’t say I’m proud of it. day by day I atone for my sins by helping the locals as an independent pharmacist — yeah, let's go with that.."
“tho i’ve seen some medical conditions that way above what medical science can’t cure. Perhaps some mystics are involved. The supernatural and such..”
“I’m good at spying and other tacky on-field stuff… due to my past experience.”
“So here’s to a new beginning. I look forward to working with the Sidereal agency. Hope you don’t mind the coughing.”
Sincerly, Derald.
---
“The last head of the hydra - I really hate that name” - Despite his lack of magecraft. Derald was chosen to bear the 500-year old crest of the Blightmore family. An elite generation of poisoner assassins and mages dating back to ancient Celtic times, when Druids cultivated the land and harvested yew trees as the main source of their deadly substance. Whether from poisoning unsuspecting monarchies from drinking their fancy cups to manufacturing cyanide pills that ended the Third Reich, you can be sure that Derald’s family has some minor involvement in these world-changing events without leaving a trace of their existence.
He is the last of his lineage ever since a curse was placed on the day he was born. This generational curse is said to trigger in the year 1990(s) where their magecraft would wither out and produce an offspring with subpar magic to carry that burden.
Derald is a pragmatic individual who comes from a long lineage of mages that owes a huge debt to one of the family heads of a powerful crime syndicate in America.
He was taken by one of the <redacted> zealots at the young age of 8. Forcing him to do some low-tier mob stuff, spying on the rival mob families as a harmless street child, or whatever disguise they opt for in their mission. He learns underhanded tactics under their wing, like smuggling out illegal drugs on the streets, and engages in other gang-related violence at a very young age.
Due to his abnormal tolerance to poison and his family’s loyalty to the <redacted> family, their head Lady <redacted> takes a liking to him and decides to nurture young Derald under her tutelage, serving as a personal food taster and their personal medic .She sees him as a wounded animal and a valuable asset . A pet project that could be useful in the future. So much so that he got enrolled at the Clock tower due to the <> influence, but sadly, that didn’t last long, and he only finished in 2 years at this prestigious school, earning the rank of frame.
He is under a binding contract with the <> mobsters and was given more leeway than most members. His task was to investigate and to do some research about the mystics involved in the Millhaven region, and scout the land for a potential base of operations.
He can identify most poisons just by tasting a small dose of them without getting poisoned himself.
He is a cinephile.
His favorite movie is The Princess Bride and Robin Hood, man in tights(which is the greatest adaptation of this character up to date)
Name : Derald Smith Age : 23 Date of Birth : Jan 19,1997 Address : Warehouse no.50, Tidewatch docks (clinic)/ 12f 203 West wing Pearlwind Hotel(condo unit)
C U R R I C U L L U M V I T A E
Education
2011-2013 2nd year student, Clocktower(dropout) Rank: Frame
Work/Organizational Experience
Personal Toxicologist(unlicense) 2016 -present
Independent Product Distributor (Smuggler) - Derald has a criminal network backing and funding him.
---
S K I L L S & O T H E R R E S O U R C E S
Magic Circuit Quantity: D-
Magic Circuit Quality: D
Magic Circuit Switch: A viper’s hiss
Element: Earth
Magecraft:
General Magecraft - All that rudimentary magic they teach at the Clocktower.
Magical Workshop (Backalley Clinic) - Located in the small county of Millahaven, this secret base under his makeshift clinic is where Derald hone and practices his craft.
Pharmacy - Derald is a man who firmly believes in modern medicine.
Item 1
Rags of Nothingness
Derald wears a scarf that conceals his true identity and his presence. Its unnatural scent of dirt and second-hand cigarette smoke dulls the senses of any human to a degree, making him almost unrecognizable to those who rely on those senses alone.
Item 2
Animal Tranquilizer/ Syringe needles/Basic Poison
This functions like a normal hypodermic needle, injecting fluids into one’s skin. Combined with his rudimentary reinforcement magic, Derald can use these needles as a projectile weapon just like an executor can throw their black keys.
Item 3
Cigarette.
Derald is a chain smoker, like a real chugger of this stuff, causing him to have a weak constitution due to years of substance abuse. This curse/blessing serves as a double-edged sword to him. On one hand, he is resistant to poisoning and other mental interference curses. On the other hand, he is pretty much susceptible to other harmful causes of magecraft and natural mortal wounds.
The toxin in his body helps calm his circuits, nerves, and brain, allowing him to stay focused.
Item 4
Fake ID Badge
Derald carries a flip badge that changes its description and image depending on his narrative to those people around him. A simple curse that distorts his image and status with the help of this license and a little sway of his words. Kind of like a reverse innocent monster attribute, this helps Derald blend in with the normal folks as your friendly neighborhood practitioner without being labeled as a part of a notorious gang/occult member due to his appearance.
---
C O V E R L E T T E R
Dear Leonardo Fidano, Head of the Sidereal Agency,
“Sigh I know this sounds desperate but I’m gonna keep it short. I’m Derald Smith, Real name, not my real last name.”
“I’m an ambitious wannabe medical personel who happens to be a mage who’s down on his luck, looking for some employment.”
“I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘mage’ but rather an individual who uses ‘magic’ as a tool to meet one’s end.”
“I’ve done some dirty work in the past and can’t say I’m proud of it. day by day I atone for my sins by helping the locals as an independent pharmacist — yeah, let's go with that.."
“tho i’ve seen some medical conditions that way above what medical science can’t cure. Perhaps some mystics are involved. The supernatural and such..”
“I’m good at spying and other tacky on-field stuff… due to my past experience.”
“So here’s to a new beginning. I look forward to working with the Sidereal agency. Hope you don’t mind the coughing.”
Sincerly, Derald.
---
“The last head of the hydra - I really hate that name” - Despite his lack of magecraft. Derald was chosen to bear the 500-year old crest of the Blightmore family. An elite generation of poisoner assassins and mages dating back to ancient Celtic times, when Druids cultivated the land and harvested yew trees as the main source of their deadly substance. Whether from poisoning unsuspecting monarchies from drinking their fancy cups to manufacturing cyanide pills that ended the Third Reich, you can be sure that Derald’s family has some minor involvement in these world-changing events without leaving a trace of their existence.
He is the last of his lineage ever since a curse was placed on the day he was born. This generational curse is said to trigger in the year 1990(s) where their magecraft would wither out and produce an offspring with subpar magic to carry that burden.
Derald is a pragmatic individual who comes from a long lineage of mages that owes a huge debt to one of the family heads of a powerful crime syndicate in America.
He was taken by one of the <redacted> zealots at the young age of 8. Forcing him to do some low-tier mob stuff, spying on the rival mob families as a harmless street child, or whatever disguise they opt for in their mission. He learns underhanded tactics under their wing, like smuggling out illegal drugs on the streets, and engages in other gang-related violence at a very young age.
Due to his abnormal tolerance to poison and his family’s loyalty to the <redacted> family, their head Lady <redacted> takes a liking to him and decides to nurture young Derald under her tutelage, serving as a personal food taster and their personal medic .She sees him as a wounded animal and a valuable asset . A pet project that could be useful in the future. So much so that he got enrolled at the Clock tower due to the <> influence, but sadly, that didn’t last long, and he only finished in 2 years at this prestigious school, earning the rank of frame.
He is under a binding contract with the <> mobsters and was given more leeway than most members. His task was to investigate and to do some research about the mystics involved in the Millhaven region, and scout the land for a potential base of operations.
He can identify most poisons just by tasting a small dose of them without getting poisoned himself.
He is a cinephile.
His favorite movie is The Princess Bride and Robin Hood, man in tights(which is the greatest adaptation of this character up to date)
Triss releases Damian from her clutches as soon as the four mysterious ladies arrive. Her smile quickly vanishes as the atmosphere shifted in a much more serious tone.
Judging by their face value alone, they appear to be somewhat unfriendly and don’t vibe with the rest of the reavers. The type of mean girls who walk into the classroom and cause nothing but trouble.
Their eyes pierce like daggers. Their features are like predators. Their presence is well known, as most staff members are immediately intimidated just by looking at them.
The dwarven warrior never got that impression or felt the same way about them. Sure, they meant business, but to her, they are just a bunch of beastfolk with some slick fashion sense. A fellow idol formed a group, perhaps?
Her years fighting in the arena fortified her resolve to never get intimidated or freeze in the face of danger. Her bravery shines along with her immortal flame rune engraved on her chest, which negates negative emotions such as the fear of the unknown.
In any case, within this span of numerous introductions and mysterious guests popping out of nowhere, Triss realized two crucial things. One: That she is hungry and Two: that Red-scale belua seems to be in a foul mood about something.
“You there, old lunch maiden. Git behind me, as someone who spends most of her life fighting in the ring, I know ill intent when I see one. That scaly lassie over there seems to be eying someone." Triss warned Bellum.
"If trouble starts to break out, I will not let these foreign ladies harm ya without sampling yor delicious meal inside muh belly after a long flight gettin' here.” Thinking with her stomach, Triss steps in front of the cowering staff, protecting what she thinks is the most important person in the room, which is the resident cook.
The only reason why a warrior is alive is to fight and the reason why the warrior fights is to win. -Miyamoto Mussashi
The stage is set.
A lone samurai is led into a trap and is now facing four ninjas of a murderous cult. The tension and the urge to kill is palpable around them.
Katana presses her thumb against the back of her hilt, itching to unsheath her man-slaying sword.
She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She analyzes her opponents, visualizing them in this dark environment, Opening her mind's eye to the possibilities and capabilities of each weapon the shadowy fiends are wielding.
It's quite obvious she is at a disadvantage here. She has to conserve her energy with each motion she delivers and strike with efficiency.
Be swift, Be efficient, and be like water. Yup, that's the game plan here.
Without warning, Katana rushes through their formation and into the fray.
The nimble samurai chose not to play defensively, despite being outnumbered, which surprised the assassins, thinking she's either brave or have a death wish.
'I dictate the flow of this fight!' She yelled at the back of her mind.
She delivers a skull-crushing high knee to one of the thugs as her opening, rocking his brains out.
Katana then drew her second sword and started slicing the air around them. The sound of steel clashing echoes through as one of the ninjas parries her blow with a sword of their own.
A sequence of collisions takes place as three ninjas jump on her at the same time with their bladed weapons. The rhythm of combat increases, exchanging blows for blows in a fast-paced setting.
Within this entanglement of fist, foot, and steel, Katana saw her first victim amongst the four assassins.
She parries his blow and riposte, delivering a quick spartan kick to the gut that staggers him.
She then followed it up with a blur of two deadly slashes with her twin blades. One to his torso. The other was a clean cut to the neck.
SCHWINGGGGG!!!!! SCHWINGGGGG!!!!!
In the blink of an eye, Katana beheads him, painting the pavement red as the head plops to the ground.
"One"
The samurai steps back, preparing for another strike. She remains silent and focused. Her expression stays the same -- a joyless killing machine.
The other ninjas looked at each other and began to disengage. They realize how cracked and lethal this lady is in close combat. They proceeded tightly holding their weapons as they grew wary and stayed out of Katana's striking range.
They encircle their prey and go in different directions, flanking her from all sides. Playing a deadly game of tag with Katana being 'it'.
Katana took a steadying breath, maintaining her composure as she sensed the shift in the fight's tempo. It doesn't matter where they strike, I'll kill them all. She thought to herself.
The battle continues as one of her opponents releases a flurry of sharp projectiles that slice through the air, aiming at the heroine.
The swordswoman drew her sword in an arc motion as she powered through the barrage of knives and started twirling her dual swords like a fan.
CLANK!! CLANK!! CLANK!! CLANK!! CLANK!! CLANK!!
Her blade sings as she deflects most of the thrown steel stars.
Katana takes multiple decisive steps and advances, bridging the gap between her and her mark.
LEAP! ROLL! SWING! TURN! SWING! FEINT! THRUST!
Within this sequence of her deadly dance, Katana got the second ninja on the ropes and skewered him, lifting him a few inches off the ground.
She then forcefully rips the sword out of the ninja's body, twisting her own, and takes a full swing at the incoming third ninja who'd tried to attack her from the back, slashing the poor bastard in half.
"Two."
"Three."
Both bodies hit the floor as Katana makes quick work of them.
The fourth ninja took advantage of the moment, as a chain suddenly flew in and coiled around Katana's neck.
She gasped intensively as she could feel the metal rope constricting her throat.
Katana had no choice but to drop her swords to the ground and use both hands to relieve the pressure of strangulation.
"Get over here!" Said the ninja, reeling her leashed prey with his chain.
In a moment of clarity, Katana chose to abandon her resistance and boldly decided to confront him directly.
She swiftly turns and runs in his direction. She slides down between the footman's legs, causing his chain to wrap against his limbs, and flips him over with a forceful yank, falling flat on his back.
Katana draws her kunai and mounts him. A pair of dead cold eyes looked down at him as the manslayer slit his throat.
"Four" She heavily pants and rolls beside the lying dead assassin, waiting for her battle adrenaline to subside.
It was a messy finish, but it is done.
The wounded warrior stands up and picks up her Soultaker on the ground, limping away from the carnage she has caused. Katana grunts and takes one last look at the scene with her bloodshot eyes before disappearing into the dark.
Four trained assassins are dead that night. Only one lives to see another day.
Somewhere at a Chinese restaurant, A meeting of a crime syndicate like no other takes place. They rented the whole place and discussed the situation last night. Unknownst to Katana, her fight is being recorded during that bloody night.
Five members are present at a long dining table, bickering and arguing on the topic with an old-battle-hardened Asian man silently sitting at the end of it.
"Four of my best men are dead! Such a waste of resources!"
"Heh, that's what you get sending children to clean up your loose ends! You should kill that mobster the last time he was in New York!"
"It's not the student's fault they achieve failure, but the teaching and product of their mentor's incompetence"
"Shut up you hag! I will not be lectured by you!"
"Tsk, if only I had been aware and escorted them in that mission, I would have that swordswoman’s head and serve it on a platter at this very table."
"I doubt it, I've seen that cursed blade can do during ancient times, your immortality means nothing if you get killed by it"
"Enough!" The leader of the cult raised his voice. Silence followed as he commanded authority amongst his five lieutenants.
"Can't you see? It's fate! this is the prophecy of the beast! And we found her -- An efficient and ruthless killer in the modern era. A worthy candidate to corrupt. She could be the vessel to our success...Our black sky." He smirked, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"Put a bounty on her, alert all the clan but do it discretely. This new regime is so busy looking at superpowered threats from the sky that they don't even bother noticing the gaping abyss hidden from below."
Another clan takes interest in the wandering ronin! This time devil worshipping ninjas from the past. The consequences of disrupting the underground scene are piling up against the sword-wielding heroine.
issue 1.02: The vagabond and the murderous shadows
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ It is the dead of night.
Somewhere at a cheap California motel, A fleet-footed samurai creeps through under the cover of darkness over the roof of the establishment. Only the swift breeze followed through her movements as she bypassed the guards without being traced and went straight into her target's balcony.
A cartel gang member is about to have an untimely visit from the Grim Reaper herself in his sleep.
A silent shadow that wields death in her hands and harvests the souls of those she has slain.
Tonight, Katana's target was a Mexican mobster who is said to be the mover and shaker of the substance known as Snake oil in California. A powerful drug that can incapacitate any meta-human/mutant.
Katana's suspicion only grew stronger since she watched that video of a crazed theorist's podcast. She had a hunch that the snake oil may be connected to it and is the same chemical used to gas the metahumans in one of Lord's concentration camps.
Perhaps this mobster can provide more info on this topic, once he is on the other side of her soultaker. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Like a cat, Katana's footsteps were almost non-existent. She silently opens the sliding window pane and grabs the hilt of her soultaker, slowly approaching the slumbering mobster in his bed.
Just as she is about to assassinate the poor man in the dark, she realizes something is amiss. His blanket emits a foul smell of rusted iron, and its texture is quite soaked.
The stench of death is familiar to her. She immediately pulled off the sheet only to find the mobster was already dead, drowning in his own blood.
She frowned, realizing that someone had reached her target before she could.
Katana examines the lifeless body. The cuts the crime lord obtained were no ordinary slices. They were precise, and surgical, Only damaging the important parts of the body's organs. This was a quick death by the blade and was no doing of an amateur hitman.
Their motive must be silencing this man, taking his secrets to the grave.
FWOOOOPPMH!!!
Just when Katana was about to leave the room, An arrow flew through the window and went straight to her. A ninja wielding a crossbow is standing outside missed his shot as Katana barely deflected by an inch with a flick of her sword.
Panicked. The suspect quickly flee after that failed attempt.
Katana took a deep breath and started sprinting through the motel hallways, in pursuit of the trained assassin. Hoping to find answers on why the attempt on her life?
Both of them are agile and limber as the chase continues, doing flips and parkours all over the place, maneuvering around the tight spaces of the motel.
Tatsu Toro ended up in an empty parking lot where the chase ended. From there, she sees a lone white van as other four members dressed like the one who tried to kill her steps out.
Judging by their red-themed ninja garb, I'd say they're a part of a clan. Which makes them dangerous. I've met these type before. They hunt in packs and spelled nothing but trouble. Katana thought to herself.
"Who are you?" She asked.
The four masked men remained silent, drawing their bladed weapons as their answer. Their eyes are filled with killing intent as they continue to glare at her. Clearly, The wandering ronin has stumbled upon something that conflicts with their interest and has something to do with the dead mobster.
"Fine, then you shall die nameless by my swords" The Bladerunner draws her two blades.
A DEADLY SHOWDOWN IS ABOUT TO BEGIN: ITS KATANA VS THE HAND!
slushiousCup
RPM
xVampire3go
k4tsukibakug0
Eddie Brock
Natty
Ezekiel
