webboysurf

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Edmund Silvaine

In Collaboration with @Obscene Symphony

---

Edmund exited the medical room as Sara was entering, fresh out of his armor and starting to truly feel the exhaustion and stiffness that was setting in from a physically intensive evening. There was a slight comfort to the sting, however. It reminded him of his time as a Church Knight, when his work made a clear difference. He had kept his oath this evening, but that is all he could say for his abilities. Not that anyone else seemed to do better. The other Templars seemed to be caught off-guard as well, though most seemed to handle themselves adequately. Though, now that he thought about it, Sir Jacinthe was absent... along with his Scion. He hadn't seen either on the train, nor walking into the castle. He had nearly blocked out Lucas’ cry from earlier in the night. He had been fearless and well-skilled in magic. Guess neither were great defenses against bullets.

2 casualties at least, if they were lucky. This was bad.

Edmund pulled out his flip-phone, an indestructible little brick of plastic and internal electronics. He quickly scrolled through his miniscule list of contacts, before settling on a suitable name. He lifted the phone to his ear, waiting until he heard the line connect. Without waiting for a formal acknowledgement on the other end, he spoke in a hushed tone. "I need the duffel bag under my bed brought to Veradis Castle. Soldiers will meet you, they'll get the bag to me."

There was silence on the other end, before a confused voice on the other end responded. "Uhh... right. Ok."

"Keep the penthouse locked down. Maya is safe. I'll update the team when I have more info." He lowered the phone, ended the call, and quickly made his way to the nearest attendant. "An SUV from the city will be coming towards the Castle. Woman inside will have a bag for Sir Edmund Silvaine. Please pass that on to whoever is running point on security, and please ensure the bag makes it to my quarters. It's going to be a long night." With a swift nod, he turned to head off in the direction of Ballroom A.

Edmund was somewhat delayed in his arrival to Ballroom A. Upon entering, he didn’t much acknowledge the other Templars. An attendant stood at the door, holding open a box with several of the armor crystals. Edmund’s hand rested in his coat pocket, and the rifle remained slung over his shoulder. He shook his head. ”Not happening. Not yet.” He kept his fist closed around his armor crystal, hidden from view, and attempted to walk into the ballroom.

The attendant, a young woman wearing something resembling a Templar’s dress uniform, frowned. “Sir Edmund, I’m afraid I must insist,” she replied earnestly, stepping in his path and holding the box out to him for a second time.

Edmund’s stare was cold, the scowl returning in full force. ”You can insist all you like. I will do what I must to uphold my oath.” He quickly moved one leg forward, hooking it just past the attendant, and stepping forward yet again.

“Sir Edmund,” the attendant repeated, catching the larger man’s arm as he passed. She fixed him with a strong-willed stare. “Your oath is not endangered by submitting your crystal for data logging. I assure you it will be returned at the end of the meeting.”

Edmund stopped for a moment as he was held in place, silent and unmoving. His eyes were screwed shut for the moment, the swirl of fear and anger reaching a near boil in his throat. No amount of attempted prayers or recitations were quelling the waves of emotion overwhelming him. He turned his head to the attendant, opening his eyes while clenching his teeth. He hissed,”Tell that to Ulysse.” Muscling through the pain in his shoulders and back, Edmund shook off the grab with a quick turn of the torso and entered the ballroom.

“Sir Edmund, I would have thought you outgrew bickering with squires when you ceased to be one,” a chilly voice sounded from the side of the ballroom, where Dame Irina emerged suddenly from a well-concealed servants’ door. Edmund ignored her misplaced comment, instead simply turning his attention to Irina. She barely glanced up from the tablet in her hand, tapping a few more things before handing it off to another squire, who disappeared behind the closing door. The attendant with the box, apparently a Church squire, snapped to attention, only to be waved off by Irina. The young woman made for the same door, now only visible as a recessed panel in the wall, and received a few murmured orders from Irina before she, too, disappeared.

“We’ll deal with this later,” Irina continued, “For now, there are more important matters to attend to.” She made her way to the front of the ballroom, heels clicking as she gestured flippantly with one hand. It was a familiar signal, especially to those more recently out of Templar training: a signal to form up.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Edmund Silvaine

---

Edmund operated on auto-pilot on his way to Stern Hill. He didn't question when soldiers waved for him to walk into a wall, nor why there was a bullet train behind it. He didn't even bother to question where the train would possibly be taking them. All he knew was that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and the soreness and pain was beginning to catch up to him. Edmund slumped Maya down in a seat on the train, unslung the rifle, and collapsed into a chair next to his Scion. The armored knight remained stoic and silent as always, taking the moment of quiet calm to inspect the rifle he had looted. He didn't even bother to check how many Scions and Templars had made it onto the train when it began racing off. He just focused on what he could actively work with while remaining within leaping distance of his Scion. He checked the number of bullets he had, looked it over and over again to check for any kind of serial number or insignia. The gun in his hands just seemed to give rise to more questions than answers. He had clocked several dozens of these rifles at the party at the very least, and all signs were pointing towards a mass-custom order. But the lack of insignia... it was unlikely any company in the Estoran Federation could have fulfilled an order like this. Even if the job was piecemeal, cobbled together from various rifle parts... something would have a company logo on it. Whoever these people were, it was clear they had connections outside of the Federation. But something in his gut was telling him that Salome had been upfront... these people weren't associated with Kaudus, at least not primarily. This was just the beginning of something larger.

That very though sent shivers down Edmund's spine.

When the train stopped, he didn't take much time to acknowledge his surroundings. He instead opted to quickly scoop Maya up into his arms in a princess carry after slinging the rifle back over his shoulder. As much as every fiber of Edmund's mortal shell desired rest and ice, he trekked on slowly and methodically. His mind focused more on watching his step and keeping track of his breathing, which was becoming more labored with occasional hissing as it was clear just how poorly his initial landing from the ceiling fall had gone. He pushed through with no vocal protest nonetheless, stopping only as he stood before a collection of servants.

“Greetings, holy ones. I am Duchess Patricia Bachmeier. I will be personally overseeing your stay here with us in the Rose Wing. I have been instructed by Archbishop Elijah to have all Scions looked after as Dame Irina has summoned the Templars to Ballroom A. If there are any injuries, the medical team is located on the first door on my right-handside. If it would please you, the Scions have been invited to Her Highness’ Snuggery where she eagerly waits to host you. Of course, if you are weary and wish to retire, we are happy to lead you to your rooms per the Archbishop’s order. Whatever your wish, you need only ask and we will provide to the best of our ability.”

After taking a moment to decipher which direction was the Duchess' right-hand side, he carried Maya towards the room where the medical team was waiting. The debriefing session could wait a moment.

Her Holiness had a boo boo.

---

@Obscene Symphony

City In Flames: A Night City Story

James "8 Track" Walker

James "8 Track" Walker

Age: 34 years old
Gender: Male
Faction: None

Appearance:
James Walker stands at around 6' even, and is of an average build. He is almost always seen wearing construction or utility pants with several pockets filled with various components and scrap that can be used to cobble something together quick. He often manually dyes his hair, most recently choosing a sort of bluish purple. He keeps his beard long, but well trimmed. He sticks simple while at work, often opting for a simple plain-colored flannel or just a sleeveless tank top. When out on the streets or at various nightclubs after work, Walker can be seen sporting custom-smelted rings and a pair of cyberglasses. He almost always keeps his Ticon tucked into the back of his waistband, no matter what. Most of Walker's cyberware is somewhat hard to spot to the untrained eye, though his arms and hands have clear signs of military-grade cyberware upgrades. Walker's most noticeable cyberware feature are the 8 shard sockets (4 on each side) embedded in his neck behind his beard. It is the source of his street handle, 8 Track.

Cyberware:

• Projectile Launch System (Right Arm)
• All-in-One Tech Hand and integrated Tech Scanner (Left Hand)
• Ballistic Coprocessor (Right Hand)
• Kiroshi "Doomsayer" Optics
• Biomonitor
• Subdermal Armor (Moderate, covering Torso/Arms)
• Fortified Ankles
• 8 shard sockets, 6 are full of various user manuals and schematics

Equipment:

• Modified Militech Ticon (integrated suppressor, extended magazine, custom type 2080 red dot scope)
• Modified Militech Crusher (collapsible stock, Reverse-Engineered Kanetsugu scope, armor piercing rounds)
• Hand-Built Militech M-179 Achilles (Custom Thermal/infrared Scope)
• Titanium-Core Crowbar
• Polarized Cyberglasses with integrated anti-flash technology
• Kang Tao portable Gas Mask
• Fragmentation and EMP grenades, along with a handful of remote detonation charges stored in a box labelled "Vanilla BDs" in his van.
• Modified Villefort Columbus V340-F Freight (Armor plating, Bulletproof tires, Back-Mounted Manually-Operated Machine Gun, Improved Suspension, small shielded smuggler's storage space)
• Walker owns a Quadra Type 66 Avenger and a Brennan Apollo that he will use on occasion, or loan out for a price.

Biography:

James Walker was born a drifter of sorts, a nomad of the Jode Nation while they were on the decline. His family had a long history of traveling and road work, transporting supplies around the fractured remains of the United States following a series of environmental disasters that left the heartland barren. James Walker was the youngest of three sons, but was easily singled out as an expert with a wrench in his early teens. He spent plenty of time fixing vehicles for the family at large. By the time he was 18, he was tuning up the clan's vehicles professionally. He learned quick how to use salvage and spare parts to upgrade clan vehicles to deal with the growing dangers of traversing the roads.

After four years, war broke out between the NUSA and the Free States. Seeing the writing on the wall as tanks and convoys rolled through the country, James felt like he wasn't seeing his full potential fixing up cars for the clan. He already knew how to fire a gun and had a decent head on his shoulders. He enlisted with the Northern California militia, and was quickly scouted after some aptitude tests to serve as an armorer/mechanic. In an effort to expedite his training, James Walker was made into a new man. On top of the standard cyberware enhancements given to most recruits, he was given something extra-special to bring him up to speed: 8 shard slots embedded in his neck, filled with manuals and schematics to aid in his work. With a lot of drugs to keep him from going into cyberpsychosis from the shock, James began to pick up skills and experience that would change the trajectory of his life.

James Walker was one of the lucky few who was on the backlines for the Battle of Ridgecrest, and managed to walk away with no serious injuries. NUSA and Militech were ruthless, and the constant escalation of weaponry in the Unification War kept Sgt Walker busy. He developed an addiction to nicotine and caffeine pills to keep himself awake at all hours, fixing up Panzers and various other vehicles and weapons to keep NorCal in the fight. He was forced to keep up with combat drills, but managed to avoid most combat due to his vital support role. The blood, sweat, and tears of hundreds of thousands of people managed to keep the war going on long enough to see an end to the conflict. Myers signed the Unification Treaty, Night City became independent, and the veterans of the unification war were the ones who were left sidelined. Those who were injured got fixed up just enough to keep suffering, but those who were still in good condition were left with a fistful of eddies and whatever they could snag on their way out of the proverbial door. Walker wasn't able to walk away with much else but the cyberware in his body, and two vital shards containing weapon schematics that were not confidential enough to warrant sending a repo man.

In the interim, the Jode Nation was fractured, weak, and had been one of the first bought out by Biotechnica. Having been screwed once by working for a larger organization, James Walker cut his losses. The first year away from the clan was hard. He ventured out to Night City with barely any connections, settling out in Santo Domingo and picking up contract work for smaller shops in the area. He eventually managed to secure a job working at Gun O'Rama in Rancho Coronado, not far from where he lived. He used his business connection and some free time to get some more working knowledge of the firearms he was selling professionally. He spent several late nights tearing apart Overtures and Copperheads to understand how they worked inside and out.

What kept Walker from getting complacent were edgerunners. Solos would swarm in from time to time, looking for some serious gear before a big job. They preferred their guns a certain way: serial numbers filed off and with heavy modifications. Of course, Gun O'Rama prided itself on selling guns factory fresh. So, Walker would often take a smoke break and meet Solos in the alley out back, where he would offer heavily modified weaponry for a slight markup. Of course, some edgerunners had a fun habit of trying to trade various guns they had picked up off the corpses of some poor gangers they flatlined for store credit. Luckily, the blood was usually easy to wash off.

Word travelled back to James Walker's manager, and his stint at the Gun O'Rama was over. Luckily, Walker had made some decent connections with some local fixers and edgerunner crews. He would meet with clients at the El Coyote Cojo for preliminary meetings to talk shop and specs, and Walker began modifying guns to order for a time. He was able to make some decent eddies for a while, and even began taking on orders working on upgrading cars for edgerunners looking to get a little more speed and power for when conflicts were taken to the highways. Eventually, Walker had managed to save up enough eddies to buy an abandoned repair shop in Arroyo three years ago... around when things began to go south for Arasaka.

Walker has a working relationship with what remains of the 6th street gang, but has no formal loyalty to them. His clientele is much more expansive, and he has had to hire on temporary techs just starting out in the business. For the most part, Walker provides custom modifications to various weapons and vehicles as a premium service for well-paying edgerunners and gangers from around Night City... especially those wanting to steer clear of Corp influence or control. Of course, Walker has begun to have dreams and aspirations for himself. He seeks to move out of the local Megatower and into a nice apartment in the City's Center, and possibly own a Rayfield himself. He's fallen hard for the charm of Night City and the pipe dream of being a true edgerunner and Night City legend. He loves his workshop, nicknamed the Devastation Depot... but he loves the thrill and eddies that come from running gigs on the side even more.

City In Flames: A Night City Story

James "8 Track" Walker

James "8 Track" Walker

Age: 34 years old
Gender: Male
Faction: None

Appearance:
James Walker stands at around 6' even, and is of an average build. He is almost always seen wearing construction or utility pants with several pockets filled with various components and scrap that can be used to cobble something together quick. He often manually dyes his hair, most recently choosing a sort of bluish purple. He keeps his beard long, but well trimmed. He sticks simple while at work, often opting for a simple plain-colored flannel or just a sleeveless tank top. When out on the streets or at various nightclubs after work, Walker can be seen sporting custom-smelted rings and a pair of cyberglasses. He almost always keeps his Ticon tucked into the back of his waistband, no matter what. Most of Walker's cyberware is somewhat hard to spot to the untrained eye, though his arms and hands have clear signs of military-grade cyberware upgrades. Walker's most noticeable cyberware feature are the 8 shard sockets (4 on each side) embedded in his neck behind his beard. It is the source of his street handle, 8 Track.

Cyberware:

• Projectile Launch System (Right Arm)
• All-in-One Tech Hand and integrated Tech Scanner (Left Hand)
• Ballistic Coprocessor (Right Hand)
• Kiroshi "Doomsayer" Optics
• Biomonitor
• Subdermal Armor (Moderate, covering Torso/Arms)
• Fortified Ankles
• 8 shard sockets, 6 are full of various user manuals and schematics

Equipment:

• Modified Militech Ticon (integrated suppressor, extended magazine, custom type 2080 red dot scope)
• Modified Militech Crusher (collapsible stock, Reverse-Engineered Kanetsugu scope, armor piercing rounds)
• Hand-Built Militech M-179 Achilles (Custom Thermal/infrared Scope)
• Titanium-Core Crowbar
• Polarized Cyberglasses with integrated anti-flash technology
• Kang Tao portable Gas Mask
• Fragmentation and EMP grenades, along with a handful of remote detonation charges stored in a box labelled "Vanilla BDs" in his van.
• Modified Villefort Columbus V340-F Freight (Armor plating, Bulletproof tires, Back-Mounted Manually-Operated Machine Gun, Improved Suspension, small shielded smuggler's storage space)
• Walker owns a Quadra Type 66 Avenger and a Brennan Apollo that he will use on occasion, or loan out for a price.

Biography:

James Walker was born a drifter of sorts, a nomad of the Jode Nation while they were on the decline. His family had a long history of traveling and road work, transporting supplies around the fractured remains of the United States following a series of environmental disasters that left the heartland barren. James Walker was the youngest of three sons, but was easily singled out as an expert with a wrench in his early teens. He spent plenty of time fixing vehicles for the family at large. By the time he was 18, he was tuning up the clan's vehicles professionally. He learned quick how to use salvage and spare parts to upgrade clan vehicles to deal with the growing dangers of traversing the roads.

After four years, war broke out between the NUSA and the Free States. Seeing the writing on the wall as tanks and convoys rolled through the country, James felt like he wasn't seeing his full potential fixing up cars for the clan. He already knew how to fire a gun and had a decent head on his shoulders. He enlisted with the Northern California militia, and was quickly scouted after some aptitude tests to serve as an armorer/mechanic. In an effort to expedite his training, James Walker was made into a new man. On top of the standard cyberware enhancements given to most recruits, he was given something extra-special to bring him up to speed: 8 shard slots embedded in his neck, filled with manuals and schematics to aid in his work. With a lot of drugs to keep him from going into cyberpsychosis from the shock, James began to pick up skills and experience that would change the trajectory of his life.

James Walker was one of the lucky few who was on the backlines for the Battle of Ridgecrest, and managed to walk away with no serious injuries. NUSA and Militech were ruthless, and the constant escalation of weaponry in the Unification War kept Sgt Walker busy. He developed an addiction to nicotine and caffeine pills to keep himself awake at all hours, fixing up Panzers and various other vehicles and weapons to keep NorCal in the fight. He was forced to keep up with combat drills, but managed to avoid most combat due to his vital support role. The blood, sweat, and tears of hundreds of thousands of people managed to keep the war going on long enough to see an end to the conflict. Myers signed the Unification Treaty, Night City became independent, and the veterans of the unification war were the ones who were left sidelined. Those who were injured got fixed up just enough to keep suffering, but those who were still in good condition were left with a fistful of eddies and whatever they could snag on their way out of the proverbial door. Walker wasn't able to walk away with much else but the cyberware in his body, and two vital shards containing weapon schematics that were not confidential enough to warrant sending a repo man.

In the interim, the Jode Nation was fractured, weak, and had been one of the first bought out by Biotechnica. Having been screwed once by working for a larger organization, James Walker cut his losses. The first year away from the clan was hard. He ventured out to Night City with barely any connections, settling out in Santo Domingo and picking up contract work for smaller shops in the area. He eventually managed to secure a job working at Gun O'Rama in Rancho Coronado, not far from where he lived. He used his business connection and some free time to get some more working knowledge of the firearms he was selling professionally. He spent several late nights tearing apart Overtures and Copperheads to understand how they worked inside and out.

What kept Walker from getting complacent were edgerunners. Solos would swarm in from time to time, looking for some serious gear before a big job. They preferred their guns a certain way: serial numbers filed off and with heavy modifications. Of course, Gun O'Rama prided itself on selling guns factory fresh. So, Walker would often take a smoke break and meet Solos in the alley out back, where he would offer heavily modified weaponry for a slight markup. Of course, some edgerunners had a fun habit of trying to trade various guns they had picked up off the corpses of some poor gangers they flatlined for store credit. Luckily, the blood was usually easy to wash off.

Word travelled back to James Walker's manager, and his stint at the Gun O'Rama was over. Luckily, Walker had made some decent connections with some local fixers and edgerunner crews. He would meet with clients at the El Coyote Cojo for preliminary meetings to talk shop and specs, and Walker began modifying guns to order for a time. He was able to make some decent eddies for a while, and even began taking on orders working on upgrading cars for edgerunners looking to get a little more speed and power for when conflicts were taken to the highways. Eventually, Walker had managed to save up enough eddies to buy an abandoned repair shop in Arroyo three years ago... around when things began to go south for Arasaka.

Walker has a working relationship with what remains of the 6th street gang, but has no formal loyalty to them. His clientele is much more expansive, and he has had to hire on temporary techs just starting out in the business. For the most part, Walker provides custom modifications to various weapons and vehicles as a premium service for well-paying edgerunners and gangers from around Night City... especially those wanting to steer clear of Corp influence or control. Of course, Walker has begun to have dreams and aspirations for himself. He seeks to move out of the local Megatower and into a nice apartment in the City's Center, and possibly own a Rayfield himself. He's fallen hard for the charm of Night City and the pipe dream of being a true edgerunner and Night City legend. He loves his workshop, nicknamed the Devastation Depot... but he loves the thrill and eddies that come from running gigs on the side even more.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Edmund Silvaine

---

“Okay.”

Maya loosened her grip on the chandelier above, and the descent started off slow and gentle. Edmund's cloak seemed to billow around her, catching on currents of air. The symbol on the back of the Templar's hand glowed strong for the moment, but he watched in fear as the glow began to diminish. He looked up at Maya in horror for that moment, as a gunshot ricocheted off his shoulder and sent him stumbling a step forward. Turns out armor and a glowing symbol on his hand had made him the target of one of the reinforcement soldiers who had burst into the ballroom. Maya's descent began to speed up, as his focus grew divided. He had blown through a vast amount of the mana he had access to scrambling for control over his own descent, and that costly miscalculation was coming back to bite him. He heard another bullet whiz past his head, and simply closed his eyes. He muttered the same words that carried him through every grueling battle he had suffered in the frozen wilderness of Rodion. "mecum dea est, mortuus non sum."

Fifteen feet overhead, as Maya's descent grew more rapid, the weightlessness sensation once again returned as the speed was slowed. Edmund's sigil glowed weakly, but steadily. She lowered several feet over the span of a few seconds, as two more bullets came at Edmund. One connected with his lower back. Sweat dripped from his brow underneath his helmet as he strained to keep Maya floating just a little longer, readying his right arm. in place to catch her. At this point, Edmund shifted Maya's center of gravity slightly, tipping her feet more sideways. As Maya was seven feet above Edmund's head, the sigil grew dormant. She fell the last few feet, but her Templar was ready. He lifted his left hand to help catch her, and moved back his left leg. As she fell into his arms, his left leg buckled. The extra strain had forced Edmund to one knee, holding Maya in both his arms. He looked at her briefly, stifling his grunt of pain at catching her weight. He would much prefer another bullet than to deal with Maya's wrath to that reaction.

To his luck, another bullet did come, grazing across the side of his armor. This grunt was not stifled, but his grip around Maya tightened as he pulled her closer to him. "Keep the cloak wrapped tight, your holiness." With that, Edmund shakily lifted himself to his feet, turned his gaze towards the shattered open windows, and charged towards them as fast as his legs would carry him.

---

@Obscene Symphony

Star Wars Chapter 0: KNIGHTFALL

Keldabe Space Port // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector
^{Mentioning @Chev}

---

"We'll add them to the database, and make sure we catch them on their way offworld." The Mandalorian Clone gave a slight salute, before taking the data-drive back into the security office of the space-port. Crossfire was left standing in a marginally populated segment of the space-port near the entrance, looking up to see a few straggling ships still seeming to funnel tourists in... but at this point, most of the travel seemed to be planetside already. Crossfire had been busy, his digital ticket-book filling up with violations and transgressions as more and more drunk foreigners seemed to be forgetting all sense of laws and decency... not that the locals were particularly better about staying out of trouble. Though, not even a stickler for rules like Crossfire was dumb enough to go citing every bar fight and street brawl... those were just part of the festivities. He set his scanners on thefts, but this was growing stale. Crossfire turned to his nearby speeder, ready to head back to the heart of the festivities.

{"Crossfire... are you still at the spaceport?"}

The Commando stopped, his Captain's voice coming in over his comms. "Yes, sir."

{"Clan Keldau reached out... our long range scanners are picking up a distress beacon travelling through hyperspace towards Mandalorian space. It's not one of ours... and Keldau doesn't want to cause a scene by sending a cruiser to investigate and cause a stir in front of the Corellians and Imperials."}

"What are your orders?"

{"I'm sending you the coordinates. Intercept the ship, board it, and investigate. Report back whatever you find."}

Crossfire smirked underneath his helmet, returning to his speeder and mounting it swiftly as he switched it on. "Order received, sir. Crossfire, rolling out."

---

Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector
^{Interacting with @Sep}

---

"I'm afraid we might have to postpone the tour of the cruiser. There's some form of state-function party going on that I'm expected to attend. Are you attending?"

Ro Nuul looked towards the setting sun himself, nodding softly as Koren mentioned the festivities. "I will most likely be attending, yes." He heard a slight beeping sound coming from a pocket in his robe, politely bowing a little as he reached towards it. "Pardon me... a moment."

Ro Nuul reached in and fetched a small pocket data-pad, quickly looking over the message he had been sent. He sighed, nodding slowly, before turning back to Koren. "My apologies... but yes, I do intend to attend the festivities. Unfortunately, it appears those aristocratic colleagues of mine will not take no for an answer... I have been selected by a number of them to manage a charitable organization. It is not as thrilling nor as important as being nobility, but it seems it comes with its own responsibilities and obligations." Hidden beneath the goggles and breathing apparatus was an inkling of a sly grin, which was then followed by a more formal nod of his head. The Jedi master reached out a hand towards Koren Omi-Ren for a handshake. "I do hope my politics have not bored you, Prince Omi-Ren. And I do hope to catch you at the festivities. If not... the datapad I have given you should have my contact details. I am always willing to do what I can to aid a fellow survivor."

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Edmund Silvaine

---

Edmund felt his feet lifting off the ground, his left fist tightening hard around his gun as his own symbol glowed. His feet fell firmly on the ceiling once again, with Maya seeming to follow a moment later. The sound of crashing and snapping below were a solid enough indication that the radius of Maya's focus grew smaller. That was fine, he could work with that. As he drew in a breath to comment, Maya cut him off. He recognized the small tone of fear lingering in her voice. She was shook up, and Edmund didn't have to be a genius to put the pieces together as to where her mind kept drifting to. She had known danger once. Edmund's fear had been tempered with years worth of close calls. They were going to have to do a lot more than this to make him afraid. Hell, the second he heard the thundering echo of gunshots mixed with the sounds of impacted plaster nearby, he sprung even closer to Maya. He was hunched between Maya and the gunmen below, exposing to them his armored back. He looked briefly at his revolver, tilting it slightly to get a better view of the chamber. Two bullets... he'd have to keep that in mind.

“Your cape! It’s bulletproof right? Give it to me!” Edmund nodded, channeling a fraction of mana to summon the cape from his armor. He lifted his right hand and unclipped it from his shoulders, draping it over Maya and re-clipping it around her neck in a swift motion to keep her whole body enveloped. In the meantime, Maya proceeded to get in a shouting match with Sara, ending it with an incredulous cry, “That bear-fucking bitch is crazy if she thinks I'm going back down there!”

Edmund simply nodded at Maya, who had crawled under a chandelier, and turned to quickly observe the situation. It took him a moment to reorient his view. Another grappling line had been fired, which Edmund was quickly able to sever the line of once again with a swift cut of his knife... though he knew he would have to find a more permanent solution to their current predicament. He didn't have the broad magical strength to punch a hole through this ceiling and simply escape, and Maya was in no state of mind to undergo something that risky without getting them both killed. The windows were a potential option for egress... the goal was to get out, not stick around and fight against an unknown number of assailants. As much as he would certainly enjoy severing the lives of those that dared to strike against the goddess' chosen... the words of this so called Salome were still ringing in his ear. She had practically laid out their goal: cause panic, start another war. But here, right now... this was something more. A show of force? Kidnapping another Scion seemed to be the aim of the footsoldiers. Given the time between Theo's disappearance and his supposed death... there was value in taking the Scions alive. They wanted more Scions. He needed to get Maya out ASAP.

Those were the thoughts racing through his head as he caught a slight familiar blue glow in the chaos, followed shortly by a much larger red glow from the floor. Edmund spun around, watching in horror as red lights began glowing from throughout the room. He barely had time to process what they were, or what they meant, when his stomach was suddenly heaved up to his chest. Maya's gravity was gone, and so was his. He fell up, spinning over himself ass over tea kettle. The ground above was approaching swiftly. Edmund tightened his left fist once again, praying to the goddess Incepta for some assistance. Luckily, she answered.

While ten feet in the air, Edmund's decent slowed to a near crawl for a moment. He eyed two gunmen nearby, who turned and trained their guns above once again. Edmund looked up, seeing Maya desperately clinging to the chandelier above. Without even questioning it, Edmund's fist glowed. He shifted his gravity diagonally in a straight line towards them, his feet naturally turning towards their direction. He planted a foot onto each of the soldier's shoulders and kicked off of them, sending them careening back as they pull the triggers of their guns. In that moment after impact, Edmund's sigil went dormant as he slid a half a foot on his back, lifting his head to look down his body towards the two soldiers as they were standing up once again only a few feet away. At this point, Edmund's caution was thrown to the wind. The second they were back on their feet, the Templar of Gravity fired two shots. A spray of blood shot out from one of their heads, while the other fell back and gasped for breath as their armor caught the bullet. A loud pang could be heard from Edmund's revolver as the cylinder was automatically ejected. Edmund groaned, holstering his revolver. He lifted his legs and rolled on to his upper back. With a swift motion, he pushed off with his hands as he kipped up to his feet. He unsheathed his knife, walked over to the stunned guard on the ground, and slid the blade over the soldier's throat.

“Take your Scions and evacuate immediately by any means necessary. Rendezvous with the royal family and go West; the army is staged on Stern Hill, and you will be there when I arrive.”

Edmund didn't care to wait for the gurgling to stop to confirm the kill, grabbing the soldier's rifle and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He removed an extra magazine and sword from the soldier's belt and slotted them into his own, looking up towards Maya's location. He looked towards the shattered windows, then back up towards Maya. He held up his hand in the direction of his Scion, the sigil on his hand glowing purple as he focused all he could on lightening the force of gravity on her and her alone. He shouted up towards her, "Maya... we are leaving. Now."

---

@Obscene Symphony

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Edmund Silvaine

In Collaboration with @Hero

---

"I wish someone had told me that a long time ago,"

The lights flickered as Edmund finished wiping the blood off his hand. His gaze turned back towards the servant, as he watched her pull off her white gloves. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her pull out black gloves and begin putting them on. When the lights flickered, the hairs on the back of his neck stuck straight up. Something was wrong here. In the flickering light, the gloves began to glow. Edmund reached under his coat, hand resting firmly on the grip of his revolver. "Whatever you're about to do... I'd recommend against it."

"Unfortunately, I don't answer to you or your Goddess," She told him. Raising one hand, she snapped her fingers, and the lights finally gave out and plunged the room into darkness. "It must feel good to wield power given to you on a whim. Not everyone is as fortunate as you are."

Edmund quickly drew his revolver with his left hand and pointed it at the spot he had last seen the stranger, though he hesitated. In the dark, and surrounded by all these people... firing off a shot in the dark was a recipe for disaster. In that moment in time, as tensions were high, Edmund instead stared directly at that spot she had stood to let his eyes adjust to the dark. More importantly, in the panic, he focused on his other senses. He still felt her presence close by. That was a good start. "You didn't do much research, if you think I was given a blessing on a whim." Edmund reached his right hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out the fist-sized crystal and slamming it into his chest, pouring in just enough mana to let the armor begin to melt and form around his body. At this point, without endangering lives... the only thing he could do is take proverbial shots in the dark. His voice rang with a metallic hollowness from inside his helmet. "Who are you? Kaudian? Come to take more Scions like you took Theodore? Or are you here for the Royal Family...?"

"You're more clever than you appear, Edmund Silvaine," She chuckled. "Estora will be crowning a new king after this year is done, but that will be a consequence of his poor health. Of course, no one will believe as much after tonight, and instead they will be pinning the blame on Kaudus and reigniting the flames of war once again." Her gloves glowed all at once, covering her body entirely in a light blue glow. As it faded, her silhouette changed. "I am Salome, daughter of Termina. And I will liberate Gaia from the false Goddess."

At that moment, the sound of shattering glass surrounded him, as soldiers stormed in. Edmund, though, stood motionless for a moment. Through no coercion of magic or force, his body felt like it weighed ten times its normal amount. Thoughts even felt forced and painful. Surely this was just another devotee of that crackpot cult he had read about in the paper... but the sincerity in her voice and the gravity with which she spoke shook him to his core. She spoke about her beliefs the same way he spoke of his... as of late, she seemed to speak with more conviction. While his muscles and mind desperately struggled to catch up, the screams and cries of the crowd felt distant to him. He felt like he was on the verge of drifting back into the same nightmare that stirred him from his slumber this morning.

“Edmuuuund!!”

Edmund was jolted into a state of lucidity, as if waking from a dream. His eyes immediately tracked up towards the location of the sound, until his eyes caught a few of Maya on the ceiling. It was hard to tell precisely what was happening... but two soldiers were clinging to the ceiling with her while a grappling hook seemed to be fired up towards her direction. He clutched the revolver close and immediately sprung into action, running towards the nearest wall. Just as he was about to run into it, he cut into a diagonal line and kicked off the ground. His holy symbol glowed through the armor on his left hand, the purple seeming to pulse along the fringes of his armor. He felt the pull of Gaia's gravity shift slightly as his feet landed on the wall, never breaking his full sprint. He ran in a diagonal line up the wall, the direction of his gravity shifting with each step from below him to above him. As he was about three quarters of the way towards the ceiling, Edmund kicked off the wall and rolled as he landed on the ceiling.

The moment Edmund felt steady with his new personal gravity, standing upside down on the ceiling of the ballroom, he sprang up and raised his revolver. He had the foresight to adjust his eyes to the dark, and hardly got a good look at the burst of light Rosemary had created. The chandeliers obscured his vision a bit, but he saw a much darker figure clinging to the ceiling and beginning to stir. Edmund broke into a run, getting within a few feet of the soldier. He stopped, lifted his revolver, and fired two shots into the back of his head. When the figure's head slammed back into the ceiling and stopped moving, Edmund turned his sight to the line of the grappling hook and Maya. He didn't have enough time to assess her situation, other than making the quick observation she wasn't moving much. As he stepped close to the now dead soldier, he felt his personal gravity seem to increase in scale. Maya, without much surprise, was keeping this area firmly rooted to the ceiling. He dismissed his personalized gravity, relying on Maya to keep him rooted to the ceiling for now.

Edmund recognized the faint mechanical whirring sound as the grappling hook's line seemed to be drawn taut. He appreciated the company. Another soldier was speeding towards Maya, and Edmund leaned over to reach towards his ankle. With a small glow from his sigil, the metal armor shifted to reveal his pant leg, and Edmund rolled it up to pull out the combat dagger strapped to his ankle. He walked over to the grappling line and cut it. The soldier, about two thirds of the way towards them at this point, seemed to float in the air for a moment. Edmund's sigil glowed as he motioned his revolver to the soldier, and the tiniest nudge of gravity sealed this soldier's fate. He plummeted the ten feet to the ceiling, unable to shift or catch himself in time before falling face first at Edmund's feet. With an uncomfortable professionalism, Edmund aimed at the upper back of the soldier at his feet and fired two shots. He proceeded to sheathe his dagger into a hilt that formed on the hip of his armor.

Edmund's eyes turned finally to Maya, after assessing that the three armored assailants in the immediate vicinity were all dead or incapacitated. One look at the way she was kneeling, and the slight twist of the ankle, gave him the information he needed. He knelt down next to his Scion, helmet hiding his calculating stare as he met Maya face to face. "Can you keep us up here a little longer? I need to find you a way out." He reached towards his chest, another miniscule exertion of mana opening a hole in the armor for Edmund to reach into another shoulder holster under his coat. He unclipped a small handgun, Maya's sidearm, from its holster and held the grip in her direction. "I was hoping you wouldn't need this tonight... but I'm going to need your help to get you out of here, Maya."

---

@Obscene Symphony

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Edmund Silvaine

---

There was a distinct comfort in the warm feeling Edmund felt as he pressed the crystal against his chest, and the metallic armor shifted and wrapped around his torso and spread across his limbs. It always felt soothing and reassuring, whenever he found a need to wear the armor. It's coloration was traditional, with the slight addition of a purple trim to further distinguish his role as the Templar of Gravity. He watched as Dame Sonia tapped her crystal again, shifting the armor into its formal presentation with crown and cape alike. Edmund lifted his hand almost instinctively to follow, but hesitated a moment. For an uncomfortable pause, his now-gloved hand hovered over the crystal. His mind swirled with immediate doubt, and a reminder of his hatred of pageantry. He hated having to wear the armor in its formal form... it felt at once idolatrous and demeaning.

His gaze shifted briefly to Maya, and then Theobald, as he looked about the room. He let out a soft exhale, before tapping the crystal once more. A cape emerged from his shoulders, and his helmet sprouted the protrusions of a crown-like adornment. This whole ceremony was not about him, and he was not going to let his own desires and comforts cause trouble for those he was here to serve. It was best to not cause a scene, and do as he was told. He was nothing if not obedient.

---

The moment Edmund took a step out of the limousine near Gile Manor, there was a rush of murmurs and confusion. The discordant flashes and clicks of cameras snapping pictures were frequent when Edmund was out with Maya, but it felt oppressive now... perhaps because he could tell they were looking at him this time. Edmund Silvaine, in all his brooding glory, was dressed in a three-piece black suit with a deep purple trim and embroidering. His unbuttoned black frock coat obscured his purple paisley satin vest, with his high-collar black dress shirt poking out from underneath to cover his neck and accentuated his freshly shaven face. His hair was even neatly combed and parted for perhaps the first time in his entire life. He wasn't the most beautiful or attractive man at this ball, not by a long shot. But given his reputation for always looking at least somewhat gruff, it was a surprise to see the Templar of Gravity look like he fit in with the higher class elites. Edmund had even gone so far as to hide his weaponry, opting instead for a heavy metal cane and to conceal his revolver within an underarm holster under his coat.

The stares and sudden interest other guests at the party showed towards him were deeply troubling. Maya had been begging him to dress fashionably for years, but he relented saying that he would allow himself to dress nicely just this once. His outfit was not nearly as expensive or opulent as what Maya would wear to a party, but to know the amount of mouths that could be fed just from the money spent on the itchy fabric he was draped in made him feel a little sick to his stomach. He did his best to outright ignore the lingering stares, following Maya into the party once she stepped out of the limo.

Once inside the manor, and surrounded by gaudy displays of wealth, opulence, and everything his birth family would have held dear... Edmund felt his mood sour even further. He did what he always did at these sorts of events: wander lazily around the perimeter, keeping an ear out for hushed conversation while always making sure to keep an eye tracked on Maya at all times. Despite his personal discomfort, such a large number of high profile individuals eased his general worries about Maya's safety. Besides... with all the Templars gathered together in one place, chances were high at least one of them could act in time should something unthinkable happen. And even Hollyhock was doing her part to check all the food for poison.

Though, it was the sound of glass shattering that sent the hairs on the back of his head on edge as he instinctively reached into his coat, hand grasping around the grip of his revolver. He quickly looked over, silently scolding himself for getting so worked up over a mere accident. Caralynn Laurent had stormed into a servant, knocking over a number of drinks. "Have you no shame? Not even an apology for bumping into me?!" The servant quickly began picking up shards of broken glass and placing them on her tray while others looked on. Edmund took one last glance around the room before quickly closing the distance to the mess, kneeling down, and helping to pick up the pieces.

While picking up a few nasty shards of glass carefully, doing his best to avoid cutting himself in the process, he spoke softly. "Don't let them get to you... and don't apologize for someone else's mistake. Won't make anyone happier." His words were more tender than even he was used to. He got careless, lost in his words, and felt the sudden sting of exposed tissue and blood on his finger. It didn't sting as much as it did when he was a child, so he ignored it for a moment and finished cleaning up the glass. When he finally stood up, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and quickly wrapped it around his finger, the bloodstains blending into the dark fabric as he gave the servant a soft smile and turned away, his scowl returning as he briefly glanced towards Caralynn before scanning the room for Maya again.

---

@Hero

Star Wars Chapter 0: KNIGHTFALL

Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector
^{Interacting with @Sep}

---

"How about a viewing of a Hapan cruiser? We can say you're doing important diplomatic work. It will only cost you one favour. "

"A sparring match."

Some of the color in Ro Nuul's cheeks flushed in an instant, and he turned his gaze away towards Koren's guards. He was taken aback by the suggestion, though unsurprised. Spars and duels were commonplace among many of the Jedi even before the fall of the temple. It was a way of testing one's limits and weaknesses, so that they may become known before a more fatal encounter. And yet here, in this moment, Koren's proposition had fallen upon the worst subject he could have chosen. The Kel Dor looked back to Koren for a moment, and he silently weighed his options. Ultimately, some vows were not worth breaking: no matter the cost. "While a closer inspection of the fabled Hapan technology is an enticing offer, Prince Consort... I fear that specific favor is one I cannot offer personally."

"The last time I ignited my saber was nearly twenty years ago, and when the Jedi Orders fractured and I spent time living among the common folk of Mandalore... I made a personal vow to never activate this saber unless it is in the defense or protection of another life. So it stands, I believe you would find my dueling to be inadequate even if I were to spar with you, Prince Omi-Ren. But perhaps I could make for you a counter-offer."

Ro Nuul reached into the folds of his robe, and removed a small datapad, typing and cycling through the database until he came across the desired file. He opened it, and handed a small file on Solace's professional background with the Enclaves over to Koren. "Miravera Alleron... though I would recommend just referring to her as 'Solace.' If you are looking for true entertainment, my friend... I can put you in touch with our esteemed dueling diplomat. She would also be a most illuminating connection to have if your queen desires an alliance with any of the prominent galactic factions." Ro Nuul gave a slight formal bow. "I hope I have not offended you in my refusal, and that my proposed... alternate would be to your satisfaction."