A Thursday night. Not so far from the weekend to make his visit remarkable. At least, not by those in his inner circle. For the valet, doorman, coat check, teller, server and dealer...? Maksim was a familiar face. Almost as familiar as if he signed his bills Vasiliev rather than Marveet.

Maksim strolled through the casino floor like an arrow on target. He stopped part-way to respond to an email that inconveniently popped up. The reply was short. He relied on auto-grammar and auto-spelling to convert what emerged from his fingers into legibility. Then he continued on his way without interruption.

He came straight from the office wearing the same suit from the day’s work. The true blue suit slicked him with a fashion-forward look without sacrificing panache. The color was spectacular against the intense set of his gaze. He paired it with a crisp white shirt heavily starched, red polka-dot tie and matching pocket square. His hair was a mop of curls pushed back from his forehead about a hundred times throughout the course of the day. The fit was trendy and close to his form. He looked like money, and the reaction he earned from the casino staff made him feel like it too. There were hundreds of people milling about the common floor. Some were dressed up and some were casual, but there was a reason he strolled straight through the crowd. No need for Maksim to check in at the teller’s window. He deserved a better level of service and frankly, a better level of player.

He walked to the high-limit room and was greeted by the occupants inside through doors that were opened for him upon arrival. 

A short conversation with the host told him about some of the current games in progress. Due to his longevity and the fact he was married into the family, Maksim’s personal comp rate was significantly higher than probably most people in the room. Even before marrying Alina, his rebates kicked in at half a million, a hefty sum sooner than the average. Of course, easily plying 200-400-600 k a night into the casino made up for the rebates long term. Still, he appreciated the gesture. So the host graciously offered a suggestion of which game he might enjoy most. He thanked him for the information.

“I didn’t eat lunch today,” he told the host then delivered precise instructions for what he wanted for dinner. His usual drink was in hand before he reached the table.

The game he joined was already in progress, and he filled in the fifth seat. Two of the four faces he recognized with a nod. The others were soon to be introduced.

When Zef had gotten dressed to go Kallisti she hadn't been thinking sexy but more about practical and functional.  She was there after all to hunt a god.  But that hadn't seemed to bother Jaxen in the least.  But it was hardly attire for sex drugs and likely rock and roll.  Or some form of electronic beat thumbing music that was too loud to hear your self think.  But they were in the Red Light District.  And there were Atharim safe houses all over.  Because what better place to be a monster, but in a place where no one is going to miss a person living there?

She looked for the signs of a safe house that posed as a fashion store.  There were a few -- for occasions such as this where breaking and entering was part of  the case.  Zef nodded towards the store.  The windows were thick but you could see the dresses inside. "I need something a little more appropriate to wear." 

Zef didn't wait for Jaxen to offer, she pulled the lock pick set from her belt and started on the lock and was in with in a matter of seconds.  The alarm would trigger, but there was a special Atharim signal that would disarm it while still cutting the wires.  She'd only done it on one other occasion in another city for another makeshift trust issue.  But that had been a totally different hunt -- this was something else.

The store smelled musty like old books but the clothes were decent enough and she pulled down the dress from the window.  "Probably have enough time to change." 

She moved behind a stack but it barely covered his view -- modesty was not something she cared too much about as she pulled off her practical clothes in favor of the red dress that barely covered anything.  Almost the full breathe of her tattoo was visible, only a small portion of the back was obscured by the satiny fabric.  The oroborous tattoo was obvious for any Atharim on her left forearm, but it was mixed in perfect cohesion with the rest of the tattoos that formed the picture of the Atlantia clan from Atlantia to Zef herself.  The four winds inked just above her wrist and the birth of the huntress at the base of her back near her spine. 

Zef looked in the mirror and admired the dark ink against the red of the dress.  But the lines from her panties in the tight dress marred the beauty and they had to go.  She watched Jaxen from the mirror as she did the last of her accessories -- spinning up her hair in the long silver spikes she carried in her belt for just that purpose -- and also for killing monsters should the need arise.  They'd be her only weapons going into the Devil's Lair.

"Ready, darling?"  She slung her clothes in a bag she grabbed from behind the counter and waltzed out the door leaving the door open.  Someone would be by to clean up the mess like she'd never been there.  That was what the Atharim teams were for.

Two blocks down the road Zef tucked her things in yet another Atharim safe place and tagged it with a location beacon.  They'd be by to pick that up later too.  It was well hidden and she was free to go deep into the depths that only Jaxen knew the way. 

She dangled on his arm.  He was a handsome man -- a man of wealth and prominence even if it were a little tarnished.  But she liked this man.  Confident and smooth.  Too bad he was a fucking god.

But that didn't stop the fun.  The neon signs lead them through darker and darker places.  The music was loud enough to hear from a ways away.  It drew them down the tunnels and around dark corners, until it was there and they were let inside. 

The thrum of the music coursed through her body and there was a distinct sense of danger here.  Monsters would hunt here.  Best be on the look out.  Zef took the crowd of people as an advantage and wrapped both her arms around Jaxen's neck and she walked backwards deeper into the crowd leaning in to shout in his ear "Find us some fun."


[@"Jaxen Marveet"]

So I noticed that Thal and Asc were collecting their threads and putting them on the wiki and in order to facilite that now and in the future (and making future updates easier).  I made a WordPress short code for everyone to use that will list all the character threads a user has participated in.

You can dd it to any wiki page (or a blog post, or page or whatever inside of WordPress)

Right now it just lists everything in order.  I want to add the ability to exclude posts for NPCs or just cause it's not in there.  Posts are only from the IC boards.

Hey all - I know I’m super slow to post and also know I’ve been known to disappear. Just wanted to say I’m still here and this is still on my radar. I’m just working six days a week, so it’s sometimes hard to get here to post. 

Love y’all (even Jax)!!!

Just for general fyi, I have been adding some of the locations added in old threads:

Gracie's Gym (believe this one was CK's -- if there's any amendments or things to add let me know)

Devil's Lair (nightclub) -- the one Natalie got abducted in

Any other suggestions?

Greetings FA. We are currently settled in mid-2046 (I think). 

FAMILY

The Vasilievs are a prestigious crime family who maintain the veneer of respectability. Their boom to power and affluence was sped by the collapse of the Soviet Union, when organised crime in Russia reached a fever pitch of strength and influence due to an unstable government. In particular they are known for money laundering, money lending, gambling, fraud, drugs, and racketeering. Upon the birth of the ASU in 2023 the family was poised to open the city's first casino since such venues had been made illegal in 2009. Nebesa’s Gate is a lucrative and luxurious den of iniquity, and remains at the forefront of the gambling scene in Moscow.

These days the Vasilievs are rich, powerful, and prior to her death in 2046 they maintained a good relationship with Syndicate leader Yun Kao in order to facilitate their illegal interests.

It is rumoured but unproven that Sofia's father Konstantin ranks highly in the Russian mafia. He is believed to be the personal friend of Myshelov Arkadiy Tarasovich, the city’s Patron and arguably one of the most powerful men in the world next to the Ascendancy. Certainly the family knows to keep him on side, and the children have always been instructed to mind their manners around him. 

Sofia's mother is the current Privilege Valentin Sulteev's youngest niece. She has three brothers and a sister, all older. Her sister Alina is married to Scion Marveet's son, Maksim. 

At 26 Sofia is the youngest, and revels in her position as the overindulged baby of the family.

For more information on the crime families and other organised crime groups in DI, see here.
For more information on the other members of the Vasiliev family, see here.

BUSINESS

The Vasilievs own Nebesa’s Gate Casino, located on New Arbat Street in the heart of Moscow city. The casino consists of four game halls, a nightclub (Zaranitsa’s Dream), several restaurants including the 5* Elysian, a theatre, and a handful of bars, the most popular of which is known as Empyrean. 

For more information on Nebesa's Gate, see here.

SOFIA

Sofia is tall and slender, with sculpted cheekbones, a haughty gaze, and pouty lips. Though naturally brunette she maintains various shades of blonde, being a regular at the most luxurious salons in Moscow. Her commitment to self-care is exquisite, and appearance is important to her. She is generous with time and money, provided she likes the cause or the person – or if it simply benefits her or her family’s ambitions (the enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all). For those she favours life can be very good.

At her worst Sofia is vain, wrathful and short-tempered. She is easily provoked to jealousy, possessive of those she loves (or considers hers), and has a vindictive streak a mile long when her temper is roused. She can be incredibly loyal, but this is mostly reserved for close family. Of them she is protective, though sometimes even their favour wanes into petty squabbling. The resultant rivalries get spectacularly explosive, however there are some lines she won’t cross, and ultimately her loyalty to homefires always flares anew. She lavishes attention and gifts on her nieces and nephews. The children can do no wrong.

Sofia enjoys being desired and unattainable, and usually takes offence at being slighted, particularly in lieu of another. She is very good at holding a grudge. Her dislike of someone is usually righteous; she believes wholeheartedly they have done something to earn it. However, the targets of her vengeance might easily include innocents if the object of her wrath is untouchable. This might be due to their status, power, or even their standing and value to her own family. Either way Sofia is incapable of turning the other cheek. Someone has to pay. She is passionate, vociferous, and gets easily carried away. Sometimes her siblings reign her in; other times they are the match to her gasoline.

In fashion Sofia enjoys tailored suits, furs, and flashy jewellery. She drapes herself in luxury. Despite a party-girl reputation she rarely sleeps around. In fact she can be touchy about her virtue.

Concerning the family business she generally does not choose to get her hands dirty personally, though it’s less from squeamishness than it is a flex of power. She doesn’t have to; she makes others do it for her. When it comes to necessity though, she’s hard-nosed. At her core is an iron grit, able to withstand the most dire of storms. Given her often petty preoccupations this is sometimes met with surprise, for most assume her interests do not outstrip the socialite scene. Likewise, she has a sharp mind and a good business head.

When she makes a vow, she keeps it. Commitment and integrity have great value to her. She holds others by the same high standards, and makes enemies of those who wrong or betray her.

HISTORY

In the cut throat heart of Russia’s capital, family is everything. Sofia was a sweet and loving child, yet even as a little girl she had a vicious temper. Daddy’s Little Star often became Daddy’s Little Supernova. Her natural assertiveness got her into plenty of trouble at school, where girls were supposed to be demure and impeccably mannered. Which wasn’t to say Sofia lacked the grace, just that she was ruthless in securing what she wanted for herself, and was never prepared to turn the other cheek to an insult.

At home it was called leadership.

With three big brothers she could afford to be fearless. She still can. In those days she didn’t know what daddy did, or how important Uncle Sulteev was, but she knew what power felt like. It thrilled her. As she grew older she pushed the boundaries around her to discover exactly what she could get away with. She’s never learned how to lose, let alone to do it gracefully. She was both feared and loved by her peers, being the sort of bully who rarely ends up in trouble for it – owing in part to cunning, but also due to familial connections. No one wanted to risk upsetting the Vasilievs.

By her teens she began to integrate into the darker side of family life, realising that the plethora of kind uncles and aunties that dotted her rosy childhood memories were not exactly that. She grew up at the private poker tables among men and women who were titans of the mafia world. Sofia wanted to be one of them. She wanted to be greater than them.

When she grew Sick as a teenager she hid it. Rage at the unfairness saw her through. Her block is such that hatred fuels her gift. She can only channel to exact revenge, or in the heat of extreme negative emotion.

Her older sister enjoys their privileged lifestyle without ever dirtying her hands on the bloody money their empire is built on. In contrast Sofia never desired the protection her circumstances afforded her; she desires power in her own right. She interferes in the lives of her siblings on occasion, particularly Dima, who has a terrible habit of fixating on the wrong kinds of women. Her lifestyle is glamorous. She is often at the forefront of entertaining the important people the Vasilievs must keep sweet, and is intrinsic to the intelligence network that feeds her family’s work.

Sofia's wiki page can be found here.


PREVIOUS LIVES

In the 5th and 6th Ages she lived as the Greek goddess Hera.

Maksim had the misfortune to be the firstborn child of Scion and Irina Marveet. He was born, his parents were married, and they were subsequently divorced by the time Maksim was two years old. It was 2008, and Moscow was a very different place at the time. Scion was in his 30s, working tirelessly in a cut-throat industry. Irina a 25-year-old model. His father ruthlessly climbed the ladder in a steel industry heavily regulated by the Russian government. Scion himself was a child during the most tense times of Cold War USSR culture. He clawed and climbed his way from factory worker to positions of greater prosperity on the dangerous ladder that was post-Soviet Russia in the 90’s. By the time he was wealthy and powerful enough to attract the attention of someone like Irina, he was still fighting a daily battle to keep his power in his vice-like grip.

The formative years of Maksim’s life took place while the world changed around him - most notably in Moscow. Maksim was 15 years old when President Brandon reformed Russia into the ASU, a structure that ultimately propelled his father to even higher, albeit even more dangerous heights. Scion pulled young Maksim along behind him.

Scion had high hopes for a son nurtured through prosperity, wealth and atmosphere far friendlier to family life than the Cold War era that he survived. By the time Maksim was entering university, the CCD was a world-power and the Marveets were a force to be reckoned with in Moscow, but the bygone era of Cold War ruthlessness was fading to the previous generation. Therefore, it was a strange world that Maksim straddled with one foot on each side of the fence: the ruthless notoriety of the past looming from his father’s expectations and the optimistic prosperity of the future beckoning careless frivolity from his peers. Maksim was doomed to not quite fit in either.

Scion expected his son to follow neatly in his footsteps; he laid the path and all Maksim had to do was walk it. Pretty simple. It started well. Maksim was a good kid, generally smart and well-behaved. He wasn’t coddled. Spoiled perhaps, but not to the point of psychological damage many of his peers were. He was popular, fun, and affable. As a boy, his mother put him through traditional Russian ballet training, and Maksim was a natural with performing. He also played piano and violin, but of it all, he loved to sing the most. His vintage-style voice brought tears to the eyes of his audiences.

In university he scoffed at the more rigorous disciplines of study that might set him up nicely to someday take over Scion’s businesses. He had no natural talent for engineering or design. He was not interested in law or accounting, areas he considered mundane parts of the business. It took many years before he found a place he could be somewhat content. Sales.

Maksim was handsome, confident, and flashed a smile that melted hearts and scrawled signatures. He was a natural flirt that seemed to charm everyone he met. In fact, for the majority of his 20s, his family assumed he was gay. To their surprise, he had to officially ‘come out’ as straight to convince them otherwise.

Salesmanship and his sexuality aside, he legitimately tried to be the cut-throat closer that Scion required. He was one part of a scarily-effective team that wrapped up skyscrapers after all, but despite all his charm and connections, Maksim struggled to negotiate the basics. The contracts he did close (train tracks, automobiles) were marginally profitable in comparison to the more glamorous deals of city construction and Dominance infrastructure.

Then one day he flat messed up. In an effort to dial up the ruthlessness Scion constantly demanded, he made a bluff that got called. It was 2038, and the high-speed rail project announced by the CCD was a proof of concept that set up the eventual VacTrain intercontinental rail system. Altogether, it was going to be worth trillions, and Maksim’s mistake cost Scion the full market-share. When trillions were on the line, losing half was an astronomical amount of money. Instead, Scion’s steel was only going to supply the Custody-originating side of those tracks. Their North American competitors outbid them to build from the other direction.

Maksim was 30 at the time. A full grown man shaking with fear and begging forgiveness when Scion finally resorted to beating a spine into his son. He never really recovered from the confrontation, though he showed up for work the next day anyway.

Maksim passed the next few years trying to grow the spine he knew he was lacking. He had been a regular high-roller at Nebesa’s Gate for a long time. Alina Vasilieva was an off-again, on-again girlfriend who did not need convincing that he was straight. The first time he saw her was when he elbowed his way on stage, singing lounge-style throwbacks at Empyrean Bar. There was no way she mistook the handsome and rich Maksim for an employee, and when he returned night after night, he sang for her until she was his.

Their 2044 wedding was the biggest event in Moscow that year, hosting more than a thousand guests. Irina alone dropped $10 Million on just flowers. In keeping with appearances, Scion and Irina are publicly proud of their oldest son, who continues to work in sales at the company to this day. His own children have trust-funds to finance after all.

Maksim Marveet is worth about two billion dollars, but that fund is dwindling year after year, spent on family, play, lifestyle and his own ever-darkening gambling holes. The bulk of Scion’s estate will eventually pass to him, but he is poorly positioned to grow it when that time comes. Unless he hurries up and develops that spine, his childrens’ inheritance will be disappointing in comparison.

I always intended to make Jaxen's oldest brother have more of a presence. 

Behold. 

*Bows.



p.s. I hate all of you. Especially @"Thalia" right now. *frown

[The following are emails between various Atharim members. These have not been leaked or hacked. They not general knowledge except among the authors and recipients of them. They are here to give a window into the current state of the Atharim after the burning of Bacarrat Mansion, the disappearance of Armande Nicodemus, and the CCD proclamation that the Atharim are a terrorist organization.


With Ascendency]

Eddard Theiss
Master at Arms of the Atharim

Cardinal Valter Massimo
Apostle of the Sacred Ring

Eddard Theiss
Master at Arms of the Atharim