RE: The Opulent Quarrel [JOIN OUR IMPENDING DISASTER]
12-24-2015, 11:59 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-03-2016, 09:47 AM by Mirdini.)
Username: Mrrrdini
Biography:
Fabian van der Wiet scratched a final set of runes into the walls and scrambled back across the garage. The faint thumping of boots and metal outside grew louder by the second. No time no time.
His guards crouched behind their makeshift defenses, covering entry points with an assortment of heavy weaponry. Briers had even managed set up the .50 cal in the minute since the external cameras had gone dark. Security like that didn’t come cheap, but cooking up schedule I sorcerous narcotics had been a profitable line of work. Would still be, assuming he survived this mess. Shame about the security's security deposit.
He dove into the adjacent basement laboratory and took cover, remote incantations at the ready. One. Two. Thr-
A mighty THOOM sent dust cascading from the ceiling as breaching charges shattered the garage doors, followed shortly by countervailing hailstorms of gunfire. Fabian waited.
------------------------------------------------
The curse did have its perks.
While bullets wouldn’t have inconvenienced her before, there was something to be said for the light patter ping of hundreds of rounds pang ineffectively pulverizing themselves pting on her armor. It reminded her of the sharp caress of desert zephyrs, so long ago.
In the here and now, she settled into stance and levelled her pistol. Goons speckled the garage like whack-a-moles, heads and gun muzzles peeking out from behind cars, desks and milspec shields. Perk number two: apprehension slowly dawning across the faces of a dozen hardened criminals as their magazines ran dry.
Alex 'Hotshot' Alameda got to work.
Sixteen bullets and eleven point five tangos later, she turned to give the team the all-clear. Hell, at this rate she might as well do these missions sol-
Ensorcelled fire shot up across the perimeter of the garage, and Alex found herself immobilized.
”Well, this is new.”
”Is it really, though?” Fabian stepped out of the laboratory’s doorway, robes trailing carelessly through the flames.
”Word has gotten around about you, little Ifrit. Your overconfidence led you right to me! The ~Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation~ was sure to come knocking after that informant ‘finally’ flipped, and such a huge bust would obviously warrant their finest operatives...”
With the wizard testing her patience, Alex tested the magical bonds holding her - to no avail. ”Can you get to the…. rrgh… point?”
The wizard criminal, being a criminal wizard, ignored her in favor of his ongoing monologue.
”And once you arrived… well, here we are! Being bound should be nothing new for you, considering you’ve been stuck in that prison for centuries – or was it millennia? I’m just planning to add a few… new strictures to that confinement. And as your kin once served my ancestors in their illicit dealings, so will you serve me. I, Fabian van der Wiet, shall forge an empire, and you- you will destroy any that might threaten it!”
”an’ cue the maniacal laughter.”
”Eyyyy broooeeeer, licht eeeen vooor miiiij, goooooeeeed…”
Alex was growing nervous. Her team still hadn’t cracked the rapidly darkening room’s defenses, and as the incantation droned incessantly on she could feel the lines slowly slithering around her soul.
Her mouth rambled on as her mind raced for a solution. ”Or the ominous chanting. That’s fine too. To be expected, really. Are you sure about all this fire? Smoke inhalation is some bad shit for you humans, I’ve heard.”
The incantation continued uninterrupted. Fucking wizards. Only thing worse than a crime wizard was a scorned witch, which Alex didn’t need to be told twice considering the latter had bound her to this terrestrial tea kettle. Though to be fair to Aaliyah El-Hashem, she’d done it in a far more elegant manner than this hack’s dank sub-basement ambush.
Not that his methods weren’t proving effective. C4 might be less accurate than a shaped charge, but both’ll blow a hole in the wall when push comes to shove. Or a hole in her soul, as the case may be. This was a bad analogy.
Fabian’s chant came to a fevered crescendo, and the garage briefly descended into total darkness as even the sorcerous fire guttered out. When the lights flickered back on he was breathing heavily, fedora slightly akimbo.
”I’ve… done it…! Althyr… Almael, heed… my call!”
Alex did her best to resist. Alas, it wasn’t a very effective best. ”Yes, master?”
Fabian’s shit-eating grin could’ve cleaned a pigsty. ”Your first task: go slaughter your former comra-“
It also made a comparable mess of the garage wall as a .50 cal sniper round wiped it right off his face.
”My ‘former’ comrades can handle themselves, asshole.” Alex shook herself free of the rapidly fading enchantments, just in time to greet her team as they breached the garage.
”Thanks , Valentine. I don’t kno-“
”Maybe next time you let us breach with you, yes? You may be more bulletproof than we are, but magic is an entirely different game of ball. Especially for one such as you.”
Alex sighed. She probably deserved this lecture. She mostly wanted to spit fire at the wizard’s corpse.
She sat through the lecture.
Afterwards, Alex followed the team out for evac and debriefing, having collected the gear she’d dropped in her confrontation (and singed Fabian’s robes a bit for good measure). She’d accompanied Singh and his M107 halfway up the underground driveway when she felt a tug on her vest.
Moments later all that was left of her was single shell casing, slowly rolling back down into the darkness.
Name: Althyr Almael, but nowadays they’ll settle for Alex ‘Hotshot’ Alameda.
Gender: Flamin’, currently favoring female pronouns.
Species: Ifrit
Colour: Temperature Warning
Description:
A fire spirit, housed in a ~6’8’’ (~2m) tall humanoid shell composed of a nigh-indestructible carbon allotrope. Alex has a modicum of control over the exact form this shell takes, given time and energy to ‘shape’ it. She currently favors a well-muscled, androgynous build topped off by an imitation gas mask in place of a face. A constant, dim flame seems to flicker behind the eyeholes.
She wears regulation black FBMI SWAT gear (sans the superfluous helmet/armor plating), and is probably a bit too pleased about how she looks in it.
Alex communicates through the vague, mystical means most djinni employ, even if her voice is strictly centered on the shell she inhabits. Her speech registers in a low feminine range, coming quick and clipped. She’s picked up a light American accent in her most recent line of work.
As one might expect from an Ifrit, Alex tends to be overconfident, reckless and quick to act. She stops short of the outright arrogance typical of her kin, however, and makes a steadfast ally to those who earn her respect – though that may be easier said than done. A life spent travelling means she (usually) reacts to new people, places and situations with curiosity and open-mindedness rather than immediate hostility.
Items/Abilities:
Alex’s shell is (ludicrously) tougher than nails, able to resist gigapascals of pressure on a variety of tested measures. Despite Alex’s curiosity, any attempt to examine the material it’s made of has failed, seemingly due to the material itself changing to avoid scrutiny. Curses, man.
In addition to its durability, with sufficient concentration Alex can have her shell absorb infrared radiation in her vicinity. This has obvious physical effects on her surroundings–though the shell’s temperature strangely remains a constant 45°C—but also allows her to generate flames varying proportionately in size, heat and distance to the energy consumed.
Alex is a fire spirit, and would usually be found flitting about on desert winds tricking, intimidating and/or seducing mortals. Her (un)fortunate binding to the shell has grounded her, both literally and figuratively. Not only are her innate fire spirit powers significantly dimmed by it, but her personality is both less hostile and destructive than it would be if she was unbound.
Along with her magical capabilities, Alex has familiarized herself with a number of CQC and ranged combat protocols in her time working for the FBMI. She comes to the battle equipped with a holstered (FBMI Professional Model M1911) pistol, a M1014 shotgun slung across her back, and a frankly irresponsible load of explosives.
Biography:
Fabian van der Wiet scratched a final set of runes into the walls and scrambled back across the garage. The faint thumping of boots and metal outside grew louder by the second. No time no time.
His guards crouched behind their makeshift defenses, covering entry points with an assortment of heavy weaponry. Briers had even managed set up the .50 cal in the minute since the external cameras had gone dark. Security like that didn’t come cheap, but cooking up schedule I sorcerous narcotics had been a profitable line of work. Would still be, assuming he survived this mess. Shame about the security's security deposit.
He dove into the adjacent basement laboratory and took cover, remote incantations at the ready. One. Two. Thr-
A mighty THOOM sent dust cascading from the ceiling as breaching charges shattered the garage doors, followed shortly by countervailing hailstorms of gunfire. Fabian waited.
------------------------------------------------
The curse did have its perks.
While bullets wouldn’t have inconvenienced her before, there was something to be said for the light patter ping of hundreds of rounds pang ineffectively pulverizing themselves pting on her armor. It reminded her of the sharp caress of desert zephyrs, so long ago.
In the here and now, she settled into stance and levelled her pistol. Goons speckled the garage like whack-a-moles, heads and gun muzzles peeking out from behind cars, desks and milspec shields. Perk number two: apprehension slowly dawning across the faces of a dozen hardened criminals as their magazines ran dry.
Alex 'Hotshot' Alameda got to work.
Sixteen bullets and eleven point five tangos later, she turned to give the team the all-clear. Hell, at this rate she might as well do these missions sol-
Ensorcelled fire shot up across the perimeter of the garage, and Alex found herself immobilized.
”Well, this is new.”
”Is it really, though?” Fabian stepped out of the laboratory’s doorway, robes trailing carelessly through the flames.
”Word has gotten around about you, little Ifrit. Your overconfidence led you right to me! The ~Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation~ was sure to come knocking after that informant ‘finally’ flipped, and such a huge bust would obviously warrant their finest operatives...”
With the wizard testing her patience, Alex tested the magical bonds holding her - to no avail. ”Can you get to the…. rrgh… point?”
The wizard criminal, being a criminal wizard, ignored her in favor of his ongoing monologue.
”And once you arrived… well, here we are! Being bound should be nothing new for you, considering you’ve been stuck in that prison for centuries – or was it millennia? I’m just planning to add a few… new strictures to that confinement. And as your kin once served my ancestors in their illicit dealings, so will you serve me. I, Fabian van der Wiet, shall forge an empire, and you- you will destroy any that might threaten it!”
”an’ cue the maniacal laughter.”
”Eyyyy broooeeeer, licht eeeen vooor miiiij, goooooeeeed…”
Alex was growing nervous. Her team still hadn’t cracked the rapidly darkening room’s defenses, and as the incantation droned incessantly on she could feel the lines slowly slithering around her soul.
Her mouth rambled on as her mind raced for a solution. ”Or the ominous chanting. That’s fine too. To be expected, really. Are you sure about all this fire? Smoke inhalation is some bad shit for you humans, I’ve heard.”
The incantation continued uninterrupted. Fucking wizards. Only thing worse than a crime wizard was a scorned witch, which Alex didn’t need to be told twice considering the latter had bound her to this terrestrial tea kettle. Though to be fair to Aaliyah El-Hashem, she’d done it in a far more elegant manner than this hack’s dank sub-basement ambush.
Not that his methods weren’t proving effective. C4 might be less accurate than a shaped charge, but both’ll blow a hole in the wall when push comes to shove. Or a hole in her soul, as the case may be. This was a bad analogy.
Fabian’s chant came to a fevered crescendo, and the garage briefly descended into total darkness as even the sorcerous fire guttered out. When the lights flickered back on he was breathing heavily, fedora slightly akimbo.
”I’ve… done it…! Althyr… Almael, heed… my call!”
Alex did her best to resist. Alas, it wasn’t a very effective best. ”Yes, master?”
Fabian’s shit-eating grin could’ve cleaned a pigsty. ”Your first task: go slaughter your former comra-“
It also made a comparable mess of the garage wall as a .50 cal sniper round wiped it right off his face.
”My ‘former’ comrades can handle themselves, asshole.” Alex shook herself free of the rapidly fading enchantments, just in time to greet her team as they breached the garage.
”Thanks , Valentine. I don’t kno-“
”Maybe next time you let us breach with you, yes? You may be more bulletproof than we are, but magic is an entirely different game of ball. Especially for one such as you.”
Alex sighed. She probably deserved this lecture. She mostly wanted to spit fire at the wizard’s corpse.
She sat through the lecture.
Afterwards, Alex followed the team out for evac and debriefing, having collected the gear she’d dropped in her confrontation (and singed Fabian’s robes a bit for good measure). She’d accompanied Singh and his M107 halfway up the underground driveway when she felt a tug on her vest.
Moments later all that was left of her was single shell casing, slowly rolling back down into the darkness.
Name: Althyr Almael, but nowadays they’ll settle for Alex ‘Hotshot’ Alameda.
Gender: Flamin’, currently favoring female pronouns.
Species: Ifrit
Colour: Temperature Warning
Description:
A fire spirit, housed in a ~6’8’’ (~2m) tall humanoid shell composed of a nigh-indestructible carbon allotrope. Alex has a modicum of control over the exact form this shell takes, given time and energy to ‘shape’ it. She currently favors a well-muscled, androgynous build topped off by an imitation gas mask in place of a face. A constant, dim flame seems to flicker behind the eyeholes.
She wears regulation black FBMI SWAT gear (sans the superfluous helmet/armor plating), and is probably a bit too pleased about how she looks in it.
Alex communicates through the vague, mystical means most djinni employ, even if her voice is strictly centered on the shell she inhabits. Her speech registers in a low feminine range, coming quick and clipped. She’s picked up a light American accent in her most recent line of work.
As one might expect from an Ifrit, Alex tends to be overconfident, reckless and quick to act. She stops short of the outright arrogance typical of her kin, however, and makes a steadfast ally to those who earn her respect – though that may be easier said than done. A life spent travelling means she (usually) reacts to new people, places and situations with curiosity and open-mindedness rather than immediate hostility.
Items/Abilities:
Alex’s shell is (ludicrously) tougher than nails, able to resist gigapascals of pressure on a variety of tested measures. Despite Alex’s curiosity, any attempt to examine the material it’s made of has failed, seemingly due to the material itself changing to avoid scrutiny. Curses, man.
In addition to its durability, with sufficient concentration Alex can have her shell absorb infrared radiation in her vicinity. This has obvious physical effects on her surroundings–though the shell’s temperature strangely remains a constant 45°C—but also allows her to generate flames varying proportionately in size, heat and distance to the energy consumed.
Alex is a fire spirit, and would usually be found flitting about on desert winds tricking, intimidating and/or seducing mortals. Her (un)fortunate binding to the shell has grounded her, both literally and figuratively. Not only are her innate fire spirit powers significantly dimmed by it, but her personality is both less hostile and destructive than it would be if she was unbound.
Along with her magical capabilities, Alex has familiarized herself with a number of CQC and ranged combat protocols in her time working for the FBMI. She comes to the battle equipped with a holstered (FBMI Professional Model M1911) pistol, a M1014 shotgun slung across her back, and a frankly irresponsible load of explosives.