Eagle Time

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Name: Torilyr Uniar

Date of Birth: Sometime during the last years of the 19th century

Place of Birth: Vane-Larin, a fae city sequestered in a rift in the Appalachians.

Place of Residence: Most of the time, Torilyr travels around the various fae realms seeking information. He has just enough wealth to be allowed to poke around various places of learning, at least for a time, which has contributed to his current cache of secrets.

He has a small home, however, in Arcatorq, a fae city with its entrances located in the mountains of Wyoming. It is a sizeable backwater town, founded fairly recently by fae standards. Torilyr isn't the only resident who rarely returns home.

Appearance: Torilyr is a tall fae with a harsh face and long, black hair. Owns a set of ceremonial mages' robes, but mostly goes around in hardy clothes suited to travelling around between pocket dimensions and delving into forgotten places.

Personality: Torilyr is driven and determined to a slightly frightening degree. He's focused on acquiring power to achieve the dreams of his people and, even moreso, himself – claiming this world, and breaking the grip the humans have on it, no matter the cost. He wants to be the greatest mage in history. He seeks ancient magical secrets, and will stop at nothing to achieve ultimate power.

Powers, Skills, and/or Resources: As of right now, he's a skilled fae mage. His fae magic skills include magical illusions, concealment and glamour, as well as magic granting preternatural strength, speed or reflexes.

His power is soon to massively increase in a new way, as he acquires the Old Magic of his ancestors and embraces it at its rawest and darkest. The powers he gain will be tied to the magical alterations that will turn his soul into a magical conduit, capable of granting him the powers of ideal shapeshifting – making him capable of transmuting his flesh into durable living metal, effectively shapeshifting his wounds closed to rapidly heal, and transforming into monstrous and deadly forms at will – as well as blasting things with energy, levitating and flying, throwing people around, warping the land around him and playing with the souls of those who allow themselves to become ensnared.

By telling him their real names freely or accepting a gift from him, for example, victims may unwittingly giving him power over them. He could steal their names and memories, potentially replace them with fake names and memories tied to the loss of their real name, as well as alter their physical forms, give them commands they cannot disobey in his presence... things that could coerce them into serving him, or which could be used to grant them gifts and ensure their loyalty. The power he has over them fades after a year and a day, though the actual effects such as false memories or transformation remain until broken or reversed.

As he grows in power, the very earth at his feet will become tainted and twisted wherever he steps. With effort, he can gradually turn the land around him blighted, twisting and fortifying it with spikes and dark clouds, potentially twisting it further to fill with ash and magma flows as he gains more power. In this cursed land, his powers are more potent, and his foes' magic will be more capricious and chaotic. He will also be able to gain a burst of power, to suddenly change a swathe of land or wield as a sudden burst of energy in combat, by siphoning life energy from someone whose soul he has power over nearby.

Biography: Torilyr is a North American fae, and a firm follower in the destiny of reclamation that consumes their political thought. He was born to a minor aristocratic family of mages, and was raised by his aunt Thintiel, the matriarch of the family. His parents were scarce visitors in his youth, as they were travelling warriors who had dedicated their lives as a couple to the eternal war of the fae against all who stood between them and their destined future. He followed in his ancestors' footsteps in studying fae magic. His early years learning under his first master, Erym, led to him taking an interest in history and magical theory. Over time he gained an impressive understanding of magical secrets, and a desire to take that knowledge out in the eternal quest to secure an empire for the North American fae.

His second master and primary mentor, Melthryth, nurtured this quest. Her own life story features dead parents resulting in an eternal enmity with vampires, and so she dedicated herself to their ruination. She encouraged her student Torilyr to go forth and seek powerful artefacts to use as weapons against the enemies of the fae, vampires first and foremost, while refusing to spare any time herself on searching that could instead be spent vampire hunting. With her guidance and tuition, Torilyr learned to be an accomplished and knowledgable mage, though he never managed to master sword-magic as his teacher had.

Over the years, Torilyr got through with a mix of family money, taking on his own students and soliciting investments in his research – and research he did, hunting ancient secrets and any trace of the Old Magic. Over time, he became dedicated to this ambition, viewing it as the only path that could bring him the power he so desires. It has become a driving force, a source of iron determination, and an overriding goal in his life. And the eternal wars of the fae have left their mark on him – though he never had a frontline role in the conflicts, the harsh ideals of fae life have hardened his heart.

He was far from the only one. Searching for ancient secrets may not be the most crowded field in fae society, but enough fellow scholars and magi walk the world looking for cracks into fragments of the old world that they rub shoulders and create rivalries. In his petty discoveries to date, Torilyr made a couple of foes, but his rival emerged in Taiaroth, a fellow student of Melthryth who likewise had been drawn into the field by her exhortations. Taiaroth and Torilyr earned each others' grudging respect for their knowledge and magical skill, but it did not soften the competition between them. Taiaroth wanted to be the one to make that big breakthrough, and he competed with Torilyr at every turn. Torilyr, of course, competed just as bitterly – they fought over patrons and leads, and when the big one came up, they both raced off to be the first to bring it back.

Now, with the strongest lead he's ever had, accompanied by an apprentice and a fellow wanderer, he has trekked into a forgotten shard of the old world, racing against his rival for an ancient relic – one that could finally have his research bear fruit, and unlock the secrets of the Old Magic...

Friends, Family, Acquiantances, Rivals, Enemies, and anybody else:
Melthryth Vilthim – Torilyr's second master and most respected teacher. Her teachings allowed him to reach the heights he has today. She is a master of fae magic, coupling illusions and trickery with being an incredibly skilled, magically-enhanced swordswoman. She doesn't teach so much any more, having dedicated herself to a one-woman crusade against the vampires. The fact that this hasn't killed her yet is a testament to her skill.

Erym-Kuliol – Torilyr's first master and a highly knowledgable scholar of advanced age. Less of a practical mage and more of a man of learning, Erym hasn't spoken to Torilyr in a long time, but Torilyr still remembers him fondly. He recently retired.

Taiaroth – Torilyr's rival in the hunt for ancient magic. He also found clues that led to the current discovery, and at this point Torilyr can't recall who exactly stole which parts of the research from whom. It's to the point where any reasonable person would basically consider finding this place a joint effort.

Thintiel Uniar – Torilyr's aunt and primary parental figure. She's a harsh woman, a petty aristocrat, and a retired enchanter-mage who used to create magically armoured cloaks for the army of Vane-Larin. From a young age, she was focused on toughening him up to be the best mage he could be and achieve great things for the family. She would have preferred Torilyr to be a proper warrior-mage or enchanter, and disapproves of his obsession with “petty archaeology”.

Myelnen Uniar – Torilyr's mother. Fae warrior-mage, part of a fighting couple with her husband. As the youngest amongst her siblings, she is yet to retire. She visited sparingly in Torilyr's youth and, to this day, is in contact with him infrequently at best. He doesn't even know where she is. Kinder and less harsh than her sister Thintiel, but her tendency to distance herself from her son is obvious.

Alciran – Torilyr's father. Soldier, part of a fighting couple with his wife. Wasn't really involved in Torilyr's upbringing, and instead sends his son encouraging letters about how proud of him he is from time to time. This is pretty much the only contact Torilyr has with him these days.

Extended family members: Torilyr had more family members: an uncle, an aunt, and several cousins.
Name: William de Raynes

Aliases: High Priest of the Vrellfytch Congregation, The Worldly Extension of Vrellfytch

Date of Birth: April 19th, 1994 (missing since Ragnarok)

Place of Birth: A tiny city from the midwestern US from before Armageddon that no longer exists, so who cares.

Place of Residence: New Orleans!

Appearance: William has changed. He stands at a tall 6'6", and has large and evident muscles. His face is sculpted and sharp, all angles from his jaw to his nose. He has scruffy, shaggy red-blonde hair, dark brown eyes that could be a warm maroon, and a easy smile. However, his skin appears to be covered in almost completely healed scars, from all sorts of wounds ranging from cuts to holes to torn up skin. In addition, there is a massive, jagged scar hidden by his clothing. It stretches from the bottoms of his shoulders to the top of his pelvis, a vicious, blood red X of healed scar tissue that criss-crosses over the entirety of his front. Despite these wounds, however, William stands tall and strong, as though the scars covering his form didn't even exist. He doesn't even look a day over 21. William's clothing typically consists of 'street clothes', things like dark colored t-shirts, jeans or shorts, and simple sandals. There is, however, an article of clothing he has that stands out. William wears a worn, custom made navy blue cloak. There are clasps sewn into the inside of the cloak so that it can be closed up from the inside, hiding William's body and arms. In addition there are four sheathes, all filled with custom ceremonial daggers, and a handful of hidden pockets.

Personality: Outwardly, William is a nice person. He is patient and likes to chat. He's the kind of person you want to sit down with in a coffee shop to catch up with if you haven't seen each other in a few months. He seems serene, almost, as if he's come to terms with the awfulness in his life and has become all the better for it.

There's a reason for these traits, however. Being linked to an unknowable conscious from another dimension that cannot be understood has skewed William's sense of time, which is where his patience comes from. He wholly desires to bring others under the fold of Vrellfytch, causing his enjoyment of talking. And he has found his purpose in serving Vrellfytch, thus prompting his serenity. In addition, it is not as if the old William is completely gone. He is still a strange blend of masochistic and sadistic, with a sickening fascination for causing and receiving pain. He still strongly values personal strength, and he still has his moments of hotheaded ruthlessness. This leads to moments of intense violence from the man, who reacts with little more than a serene smile.

William is different now, and yet he's still the same in the end.

Powers, Skills, and/or Resources:

Biography: And it is through him that Vrellfytch shall inherit the Earth.

Friends, Family, Acquiantances, Rivals, Enemies, and anybody else:
Name: Sam Houston Russell
Aliases: Blackstar, Armory, Quickdraw, Spur, "Lonestar2" (REALLY DISLIKES BEING CALLED THAT ONE)
Date of Birth: May 16th, 2024.
Place of Birth: Eagle Pass, TX.
Place of Residence: Humble Hope Trailer Park, just south outside the walls of Megacity Houston.

Appearance: Sam is slightly taller than average, with black hair and naturally tan skin, and often dresses in trendy Textro fashion, which includes long-sleeved plaid shirts, bolo ties, faux-leather belts (with a fancy buckle), jeans (colors other than blue are more popular among the youth), and cowboy boots. His bolo tie clasp and belt buckle are silver with stars of polished jet set into them. He sports a black cowboy hat and is clean shaven, having just stopped sporting a poorly-considered mustache. 


Advanced Proficiency Gun - Sam can instantly master the use of any fire arm or projectile weapon he lays his hands on. He knows how to aim, reload, and fire it almost by instinct.

Super Accuracy - Sam is uncannily accurate. This extends to thrown objects. Many a dart-throwing contest ended in heated arguments between him and his brother.

Dudetime- When attacked, time seems to slow down for Sam, allowing him to think through his reactions or get out of the way.

Enhanced Reflexes - Honestly, mostly an extension of the above.

Dad Money - Gene is well, well off. He and Sam are on good terms, so Sam sometimes gets him to help a little with rent, or groceries. He won't buy weapons or 'business' related supplies for Sam, wanting to stay off the Megacorps' radar for now. Sam tries to remain self-sufficient.

Guns Guns Guns - Sam has built up a personal armory of kinetic, laser, and various other fire arms and explosives, which he keeps in a secure locker in his trailer. The locker is so well armored that it would probably be the only possession of his to survive if the park ever deconstructs his trailer.

Trailer Central: Sam's trailer, which is located in Humble Hope. Humble Hope is, like most modern trailer parks, a large skeletal steel structure with spaces that loading elevators can install 3D-Printed trailers that are rented out to tenants. If anyone misses a payment or disappears, the trailer is uninstalled and lowered into a deconstruction machine, which is actually capable of deconstructing any non-living, non-human matter. As such, your possessions are destroyed as well, so the company doesn't have to worry about selling them. They normally loot the trailers before hand, anyways, might as well get something out of your tenants.

Friends, Family, Acquiantances, Rivals, Enemies, and anybody else:
Emily's Compound, Switzerland
July 31st, 2050

Emily's compound sat on the highest ground around, with a winding road leading up to it. Walled off with a twenty foot fence, and guarded by a giant metal gate, it was quite secure against outside threats.

The inside, however, was quite inviting. Set up to look like a resort, there were countless hotel rooms, a giant swimming pool, a large hot tub, a bar, a big restaurant, and a spa. The architecture was all bright, colorful, and very modern, with numerous flashing screens showing beautiful scenes of nature. Landing pads were set up off to the side where dropships could land.

This was also apparently where the reclusive inventor Max Volts lived, though nobody had seen him in years.

Each hotel room came equipped with a king-sized bed, a huge TV, a well-stocked kitchen, a bathroom with an extravagantly-sized tub and shower, and a button that could call "Room Service".

Desmond and Theraea were getting set up in their rooms when one of Emily's stealth dropships landed on the landing pad outside. Finally, the party could get started.

The hatch of the stealth ship opened, revealing a person in pitch-black full-plate armor, all sharp points and dark elegance. They stood at perhaps six feet, though there was a suggestion of an inch or so of heel in those full metal boots, out of which coils of darkness gusted and pooled around their heels. The figure's helmet pointed vaguely out towards the resort, and it announced in a gravelly voice; "WE HAVE ARRIVED. THE GATHERING SHALL COMMENCE ONCE ALL HAVE ASSEMBLED. DEPART THIS VESSEL."
It was around then that a figure appeared out of fucking nowhere! That figure being a very tall humanoid moth-owl-being, wearing a big cloak and a colorful scarf, who'd just noticed that someone was arriving and teleported out to meet them! New friends are exciting! She regarded the edgy-as-all-hell figure with two big, unblinking pitch-black eyes, and raised one of her four arms in something like a wave. She was about 50 feet away, because teleporting right up in someone's face is rude as hell.
The Knight remained motionless.

The Shadowy Archeress inside the ship received a text message on her eyeball. <Em check it out Dragonfly 4: Moth>

She kept waving. That's how you show people that you're friendly!
As 'the Dark Knight' stepped off the dropship, another woman followed behind. She was around the same height as the Dark Knight, wearing black plate armor with a dark hood over her head. A mask covered her face, and a bow plus a quiver of arrows were on her back.

"Lady Nightstalker has arrived! Now the party can TRULY start!" she shouted, waving to Theraea. "HELLO! YOU MUST BE THE BLUE MOTH'S SUCCESSOR!"

The Red Reaper stepped down the cargo ramp and made a beeline to get away from the two idiots. He stood at perhaps 5'10", was muscular in build despite his age, and wore heavy red and black armor. He had his skull mask on, and carried a duffel bag full of guns.

Behind him came Umeko. She was of Japanese descent, and had black hair, dark eyes, and a tanned complexion. She stood at around 5'6", and had a tough look about her, though that didn't stop her from appearing friendly and approachable.

Then an unknown Caucasian woman in woodland fatigues. She had gray hair, hazel eyes, and was probably in her late fifties, though she still moved well and appeared to be in excellent shape. She was around 5'5", and carried an assault rifle on her back and a pistol in a chest holster.

Finally there came Watchwoman, dressed in her dark armor and her red motorcycle helmet. She moved a bit more rigidly, having been retired and out of the game for a few years now. Still, she carried her shield on her arm and her weapons (mainly stun weapons) in their various holsters. She too was of average height, and waved with friendly energy to Theraea. Despite her age, she wasn't going to miss this.

Suddenly, Emily materialized from the ground. She was around six feet tall in this avatar, and wore a burgundy suit with a tie depicting various smiling dogs.

"Glad you could make it," she said to them, offering a bow. "I am Emily."

And then she gave them all hugs.

Even the Red Reaper.

"Okay, your rooms all have your names on them..." she told them, pointing each of their rooms out despite that. "Feel free to drop your stuff off. If you need clothes or anything, just press the room service button."

The Red Reaper, Watchwoman, the unknown old woman, and Umeko all went to their rooms to check them out. And all except the Red Reaper waved to the still-waving Theraea as they walked past.

Lady Nightstalker stayed with the Dark Knight.
Theraea stopped waving at this point! She instead started walking toward the two people with edgy names who hadn't already left.

"Hi!" she called, in a weirdly reverberating and ethereal voice that didn't involve any... mouth movements, or visible mouth in any way. "Who's the blue moth?"
The Dark Knight appeared to scrutinize the moth...and then turned to address Lady Nightstalker. They delivered, in a grave intonation, truly world-shattering news. "MILADY. THIS MOTH APPEARS WHITE AND BROWN. NOT BLUE."
"How embarrassing..." Lady Nightstalker said, looking back to Theraea. "GREETINGS, WHITE AND BROWN MOTH."
Theraea got close enough to them to not need to talk in bold text! Her voice was no less weird and ethereal up close, but it wasn't quite the same as a God Voice.

"Um, I'm not really a moth, exactly, but... anyway, hi! I'm Theraea! Seventeenth spire, Ibuarska clan! I guess you're all here for the meeting?"
<Oh, this is something we've not seen before...how interesting!> Was the message 'Lady Nightstalker' received in private. Aloud, the Dark Knight looked between the Moth and the Archer, gave a small nod....and began introductions. Which she made up on the spot.




"Nice to meet you, Darkest Night Striker of the Forgotten Histories Sealed with Shadow Rain-Swept Battlements in Twilight Unseen! And Milady Nightstalker the Unbroken Thread of Fate Which Bound the Second Moon-Killer Trueshot the Fifth!"

Huh, most humans had way shorter names. That's neat!

"Yeah, I'm here to help deal with the 'Capitalists'. And especially to make sure they're not messing with any interdimensional technology or magic that they really shouldn't have. I mean, even if they aren't, it'd still be a lot easier to operate here without them."

She squinted at the Dark Knight, who, to her eyes, looked a little bit like the sun, dimensional-sight-wise.

"...I guess you'd know about that kind of stuff, though? Dimensional travel, not, um, capitalists exploiting it."
"WE WALK THE PATHS OF NIGHT." Spoke the Dark Knight. To the archer: <I suppose they must be from some pocket dimension...? Interesting. Shall we get it a bit drunk?>

Lady Nightstalker nodded at the Dark Knight!
Theraea nodded eagerly! New friends! Fortunately, she didn't have too much of a concept of "edgy", so she didn't find anything about this laughable or even tiresome.

"Okay, okay, okay, sounds great! What were you thinking?"
The Dark Knight slowly...and dramatically....pointed to the poolside bar. And froze like that for a good ten seconds.
Theraea glanced to the bar, then back to the Dark Knight, then just... stared for the rest of the ten seconds. She was starting to get a little concerned by the time she stopped posing.

"...Yeah! That works. Let's get some... drinks? That looks like a drinks kind of place, I think."

To the bar!
They went to the poolside bar where Emily materialized in a traditional bartender's outfit.

"What'll it be?" asked Emily.
"Coffee sounds good! Maybe... two coffees."
"Right away!"

Two cups of coffee were suddenly elevated to sit on the surface of the bar counter, lifted by the nanites the entire compound was built from. Cream and sugar were also provided on the side in case Theraea wanted any.

"Two coffees, gourmet!" Emily smiled.

At that, one of Emily's stealth dropships came in and landed on a nearby landing pad! The ramp lowered.

Oh yeah, I should probably describe her, huh? She's about 6'7" or so. The armor she wears is a dark tealish blue, mostly cloth and leather but with some metal plates keenly placed over vital bits. The hood draped over her head, the mask wrapped 'round her mouth, and the domino mask which sits atop her nose are all a slightly darker shade of the same color. A bright streak of red hair hangs past them. A long, broad claymore is strapped across her back, and at her waist she wears a dark black-and-white tartan, hanging down a fair bit past her knees. You can't see it through the mask, but she's got the biggest, dumbest grin on right now, god DAMN is she excited.

She strides in, trying way too hard to be cool, and takes a seat by the moth and the edgelord. "Guid eenin! Nice t'be seein ya! We just havin' coffee, or are we gettin' all pie-eyed?"