Finally finished a long semester of various stuffs and things and have time to RP here again.

Is back, and my characters available. Hit me up.

http://www.dragonmount.com/forums/topic/...rjs-notes/

Taim was originally Demandred in Lord of Chaos and Demandred killed Asmodean.

Victor Shcherbakov, one of the top researchers under Dr. Flynn himself, a man who's most notable contribution to society is the first cure to the common cold. While the cure itself had side affects it is still used widely around the world. The reasons for Dr. Shcherbakov's dismissal from VaiaPlus has been rumored to connected to unethical research on humans during several of the sickness and cancer trials.

Many believe Shcherbakov was let go in order to preserve Dr. Flynn's unblemished records. Shcherbakov's secretary claimed that Flynn had full knowledge of all trials and experiments Shcherbakov was doing. She has also been let go with Shcherbakov. VaiaPlus expect the lawsuit in her defense to crop up soon.

Dorian was finishing up the last bits of paperwork on Volodin. Dead by unknown assailant. Autopsy showed he was dead before the fire, but they couldn't get exact cause of death. The building had once been part of the mob family he worked for and likely they were the cause of his death. Taking out a threat. However the bomb itself left many questions. The signature was wrong for the Moscovian crime family and it left more questions than answers. Case officially closed in terms of the monster squad.

Dorian doubted anyone would look into it further since he was a known mobster and had attacked a fellow cop. Case closed.

There was very little cover up work needed and for that Dorian was grateful, Martin had at least been conscientious of the fact. Though he heard rumblings from those lower than Martin that he wasn't happy about something. Martin was never happy unless he actually got the kill. He grumbled a lot when someone else took out his mark. Those who worked with him knew better than to try. Dorian was sure his knew team would either learn it too, or they would soon be walking their own paths.

A small chirp from his wallet alerted Dorian to an incoming call. He fished his wallet from the rear pants pocket of his slacks and saw it was from Cruz. He answered quickly, "I'm on my way home, what's up?"


A voice chattered over the electronic line. At first he couldn't understand but he heard Cruz barely audible on the other side. "Dad. I need you to come get me."

"Cruz, where are you?"
Dorian could hear the distress in his own voice. Something was wrong with his son, and that was never a good thing.

Cruz barely got out, "University."

Dorian sighed and pulled out the tracking software he had placed on his son's phone when he was a teenager. He hadn't used it in forever, Cruz was a grown man. But he'd find him. "I'm coming. I'll be there soon.


[[ Feel free to jump in. I do have a plan but I won't post till next week so if you might jump in PM me and let me know so I don't move on. ]]

So as I sat through a three hour lecture on how to fill out a student's course file, many thoughts occurred to me. None related to the topic of the lecture of course, but one stood out enough for me to bother writing it down.

Channeling and cameras.

Can Channelers see Weaves through a video camera? I would assume not, but what is everyone's thoughts on this?

Then, related to this thought. Should a Channeler not be able to see Weaves through a video camera. When a Channeler learns a new weave, it becomes ingrained into them to only be able to do it one way. So say in regards to 'throwing' a fireball. If they learn to execute the Weave with a physical throwing motion, that's the only way they can do it from then on (generally).

Does that hold true to being able to see the Weaves as well? As in, if a Channeler is blinded, can they construct a Weave? And if a Channeler is wearing, say, night-vision goggles, would they be able to see their Weaves, or even be able to construct a Weave at all?

If a Channeler is wearing 'modern' powered armour suits which exist in some of the in-setting militaries, would they be able to Channel while wearing a helmet which displays everything on an in-helmet screen, filtered through various cameras fixed to the outside of the helmet?

Aria hadn't left immediately after leaving Nox at the warehouse ruins. It felt odd being without his caustic humor. But she had to do this and he couldn't stop her. If she fell into the darkness then the world would eventually take her out. She'd be on Atharim radar - she already was.

She fought the darkness, the depths of the despair that tugged at her as she looked into the man, Lei Hou - a high end banker that was highly vocal about some of Ascendancy's policies. She didn't need to employ the use of the Atharim resources to get any information on him. He was that high profile.

But Aria did use the Atharim to find his last known location. And after she prepared herself for the journey - a new wardrobe was the top of the list of things to do as well as re-equipping her standard issue items. She was thankful that she had at least one sword, but the new dagger was lost to the rubble and likely confiscated upon it's retrieval if it survived the heat of an Atharim made bomb. They left nothing to chance. She doubted much could survive that explosion.

Flying was not her favorite thing to do. But she booked her plane, and it was relatively painless but still uncomfortable as she flew with a bunch of strangers and no place to go to escape their bombardment of emotions. Thankfully no fearful children or overly anxious persons were on the plane. And thankfully there were no dark thoughts lingering in their thoughts. Aria drowned out the noise with her headset and loud music and before she knew it they were preparing to land.

Everything was going smoothly. Sadly she wasn't getting paid to kill this man, so everything was coming out of what little she saved on her Atharim stipined. She would have to hunt a monster while in China. There had to be something easy to find and give her reason to cross the border of the CCD other than because this is what Lei Hou was. Some Atharim reason anyway.

Aria was grateful for her limited Chinese, very limited but she could mangle her way through finding a shabby little place to stay at. But she was directed to a place much finer than first appearances. English might be the CCD's official language, but here in China, you spoke what the natives did and were lucky if they spoke English.

Inside the little shabby place that wasn't so as bad as it looked from the outside, Aria took a small room that could barely be considered a closet but it would do. Her stomach rumbled and Aria found herself outside her rundown looking room at a tiny little hole in the wall restaurant that the hostel owner claimed was the best food around. Aria could only hope that it passed as edible.

The day was shitty. The afternoon wasn't any better, but Nox was actually looking forward to going hunting. It wasn't a typical hunt. And it wasn't with his typical partner. It hurt that Aria had just left with all the shit that had just happened. Nox tried not to dwell on it. But she had been right not to ask him to come. She was going to assassinate a man because of an order. And then she was going to hunt down Giordano. He should stop her. He knew that. But neither of these kills were about him. You did what your bosses tell you to do. And Atharim law already had Giordano marked for death. Why not his own daughter to kill him. But it still hurt. He was a pile of sorrow and pain.

HQ had been easy enough to find a place to bunk down with. He hadn't' explained what had happened and as soon as he got things situated in his head, he'd find a new place to stay. Or maybe he'd go back to the States for a while. Home sounded real good about now. Not that he had a place to go home to there either. But it was what he was used to.

8PM rolled around and Nox walked his way back to the Red Light District and waited outside what had been his former home. It was still cordoned off and the keep out signs were now plastered everywhere. Eventually they could sift through things.

Nox waited for Ivan to show up. He wasn't exactly friend, but he wasn't exactly foe either. Nox wasn't sure how he was going to do as a so-called teacher, but he could help where he he thought he could. He was hardly an expert on anything.

In the darkness Nox heard a scratching and then soft footstep coming his direction. Nox embraced the power and the world grew clear. The dim light gave way to clarity and he saw the mangy little puppy padding his way towards him. Nox grinned helplessly. The little guy was only slightly worse for wear, his tail was singed and his coat was a dusty grey from all the dirt that had been scattered in the area. "Well look at you. Aren't you a survivor."
The pup yipped at him and jumped up against his leg. Nox knelt down and scratched the little guy's neck. "You need a name if I'm going to keep you."


Nox thought about it. The little guy popped into his live in the middle of a shit storm and survived it with him. He was tough little puppy. "You like Nova."
A nuclear explosion in the sky could only out do the shit storm he'd bee living through. The little guy yipped and licked at Nox and he grinned. He doubted the dog understood what he said but it at least gave him some sense of hope.

Nox stood up and Nova danced around his feet. "I don't have anything to eat right now and we got things to do. You might as well come along and learn what it is we do."

Connor and Ayden didn't say much as they walked away from Nox and Aria. Connor knew Ayden was angry- and in truth he understood it. The Atharim. The familiar anger wanted to well up- anger and loss. If it wasn't for the Atharim, Hayden might have had help, might have survived. Instead, they had created the conditions that directly led to Hayden lying in a bed, writhing in agony until he died. They would have killed him with as little thought as squashing a bug.

He tamped down the anger. He knew where that led to. And Nox was not like the rest. Nor was Aria, despite everything. The magnitude of everything seemed to wash over him. Aurora's death. Ayden and Aria's fight. Nox's pain.

In truth, he was tired. Just so very tired. He just wanted to have peace for a little while. And he wanted Ayden to be at peace. It had been a mistake to inject themselves into their search. It brought too many things up. Ayden was his responsibility now. Her needs came first.

The air was cool but not freezing as they walked through the gentrified neighborhood. Naked trees stood near sidewalks and buildings, the grass beneath them mostly dead with the fading remnants of packed snow-ice- all that was left of the winter. Shops lined the street, the tinkling of bells when doors were open or closed. Despite it not being winter anymore, he felt cold and the smells of pastries and coffee appealed to him.

He stopped, smiling softly at Ayden. "You want to get something to eat? Some coffee?"

The up-armoured Legion SUV departed the Legion HQ, housed in the former Moroccan embassy without much fanfare. Legionnaires were slowly making their way throughout the city, many on foot due to a severe lack of working vehicles, but for the moment at least their sudden flurry of movement seemed to go unnoticed by Wallace-Johnson's soldiers.

The ride was quiet; Jacques' escort consisted of only three Legionnaires. Vanders of course, Lesław, and Bartoš. Lesław was Polish, albeit of rather slight build at first glance and with a list of driving qualifications the length of his somewhat gangly arms. Bartoš, Slovakian, sat shotgun to Lesław with a Benelli shotgun across his lap, the barrel pressed to the door at his side, ready to be lifted to the window, or brought to bear through the door once opened. One finger tapped against the trigger guard, while his other hand held a shell ready to be slipped into the breach once the first round was fired.

The two men in the front seats watched the road ahead intensely, with Lesław watching the traffic around them and Bartoš eyeing the crowds and rooftops as they drove towards the Parliamentary buildings that had been re-purposed into Interim President General Wallace-Johnson's command center.

Jacques' attention was split in a dozen directions, through the HUD of his Landwarrior glasses. Live updates of the movement of the various squads throughout Freetown, an update on the relief convoy's progress towards the city. Position of a Chinese merchant freighter that was scant kilometers off the country's territorial waters on it's way to Morocco. Legal demands by slighted former investors were brushed aside, as well as a 'formal request' for Jacques Danjou to present himself to Moroccan police headquarters in Casablanca in regards to suggestions of bribery,fraud, embezzlement, and a list of other white-collared crimes.

They passed through a series of checkpoints manned by Wallace-Johnson's troops and their 'militia.' The usual scum drawn to the opportunity for personal power and gain, for chances to exact revenge on those that they felt had wronged the in some way. Neighbor turned on neighbor, jilted lovers, jealous fools. The crimes committed under the 'leadership' of Wallace-Johnson were myriad and terrible, and would surely go unnoticed by the world at large. It was Africa, after all.

The final checkpoints around the Parliament included a pair of Rooikat Mk2 IFVs, lines of concertina wire dividing the new government's command center and the public at large.

The intel the Legion had gathered had indicated no more then a platoon-strength guard for the Parliament, but the vehicle-flanked final checkpoint was manned by twenty uniformed soldiers and another two dozen militia. There was limited resistance to the Legion vehicle getting through the checkpoint, but the guards were less then subtle in their comportment. They knew who Jacques was and that their General had summoned him.

The vehicle was waved to a stop in front of the Parliamentary building scant moments after the sharp bark of rifle fire. Two men in suits, some of the few remaining members of the elected parliament, waited to meet them. The two men were studiously ignoring a firing squad was busy loading the bodies of five men into the back of a waiting truck. The men were stripped to their underwear, but still wore undershirts identical to those worn as part of the Sierra Leonean military's uniforms.

The Legion SUV came to a stop, and Jacques stared silently out the bullet proof glass at the firing squad and the bodies they were loading into the truck. It took a moment before one of the bodies were carried to the truck and he could get a look at the dead man's face, and he nodded tiredly.

"Legionnaire Vanders. Lesław. Bartoš. Take the vehicle back to HQ. Commandant Tuff will have further orders. Prepare for follow-on tasks."

Ekene had told her about a basement in seldom use, which seemed as close to privacy as she was likely to find. A flash of ginger streaked down the stairs ahead of her, lost quickly to the gloom clinging in every corner. A light swung overhead, but only highlighted old equipment and filing cabinets. The dust swirled a pattern of recent use, but the room was empty now. Natalie closed the door softly behind her.

The state of the place made her skin itch; it was a dismal sanctuary, except that the solitude was precious for what she intended. Now alone, her eyes stung for a moment before she compartmentalised the feeling, smoothing the expression from her face. A deep breath of dank air, and she turned away from dwelling on the fresh bruises of the past. She could change none of it. But she could be better prepared.

She sat against the stone wall, placed the unlit candle on the floor in front of her, frowning at it. Alvis' old warnings circled like wary predators; the advice that had likely saved her life, but also trapped her now. She'd deliberated this before, but not since leaving England. The answer then had been simple.

If she'd had control, would things at the refinery have gone differently?

Silence permeated, but for the tumbling of the kitten in the shadows. The light in the back of her mind was dim, like a sheet of glass separated her from its warmth. It was joinless, unmarred, impenetrable as it had always been, yet she knew the door existed. And she just had to find it.