The Fallen World

[Grey]

@Grey, please edit this post to include the character/sign-up information.

 

[Dusky]

An Interview
​

• 
  Q: What is the worst thing you've ever done?
  
  
  A: Look... I'm only answering this because I'm compelled by an outside force. Introspective honesty with others is uncharacteristic of me. Got that? Great. It wasn't the cheating that was bad of me. It was the whole fucking relationship. I can't say I ever loved him, but I let him love me as it suited me. It was nice to be respected and it's not like I ever asked for it and - look. I didn't know he would kill himself.
  
• 
  Q: What is the worst thing you can imagine yourself doing?
  
  
  A: Well, violence is an emphatic no. Too much effort. But if I knew someone's weakness? Emotionally speaking? I might take advantage of it. Tease someone apart from their frayed patches. And maybe not for a good reason, either.
  
• 
  Q: What is the worst thing you can imagine someone else doing?
  
  
  A: Ignorance is a sin - of the fundamental variety, rather than biblical. The worst thing a person can do is turn away, in mind or in body, from what any part of them knows is there.
  
• 
  Q: What is the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to you?
  
  
  A: We're really getting to know each other, aren't we? He jumped. He landed. At my feet. I don't have any more to say about it.
  
• 
  Q: Strange things happen in every life - what have you forgotten?
  
  
  A: The hell's that mean? How am I supposed to tell you if I've forgotten? It's a moot point, regardless; I don't forget things. Ever. (She got so used to it she doesn't even register it anymore, the way the shadows move for her. Their dances are consigned to sub-consciousness.)
  

 
​

Inventory
​

Inventory: LEATHER JACKET


Cutting a Figure


A small act of rebellion – Fi Byrne, her grandmother, and Cael Byrne, her grandfather, ostensibly opposed all things vaguely reminiscent of Alanna Byrne, her mother. That this extended into the realm of clothing materials was, to Beth, silly. In a fit of brattiness, Beth purchased the jacket as Fi stormily looked on, donned it as Cael admonished her, and her grin never faltered. “You look like one of those kids now, Beth,” lamented her poor grandmother.


She had not planned for it to dissuade the more cowardly souls from approaching her – this was a pleasant surprise.


Inventory: NOTEBOOK


Curiosity Killed the Cat


Rosalyn watches the dark-haired girl rise from her peripherals. Silently, she pushes her chair out and stalks out of the door. Not a word to anyone. As the hinges bring the door swinging back shut, Rosalyn lets out a sigh and returns her attention to her work, squinting at the laptop screen.


She could at least-


“She could at least say something, you know?” says Priscilla, Rosalyn’s other roommate, mirroring her own thoughts exactly. Rosalyn turns to look at the voice and sees with surprise that she is fingering what appears to be Beth’s jealously guarded notebook.


“What’s going on in your head, Beth…?” mutters Priscilla, opening the pages.


Later, Rosalyn will wish she had told Priscilla to put Beth’s things away and mind her own business. She does not. She instead moves to sit next to Priscilla and peer over her shoulder.


The page falls open to – a leaf? Flitting through the notebook, it becomes apparent there are many leaves, collected and pressed tightly. Huh. Never thought her the sentimental sort. The pages themselves are full up, doodles and the odd equation punctuated by journal-style entries.



Jan 1
Out with the old in with the new
Why this feeling something broke?
And what?
I should continue studies.


Feb 3
Some days are more wrong than others.
Variation caused by proximity?
Variation czd by intensity?
Surging, travelling?
But what?

May 18
The answers do not exist.
It is a nameless feeling.
Not sure I can accept this.


“Uhh…” Rosalyn is about to suggest they simply put the journal back where they found it and avoid Beth for the duration of their remaining college careers when Priscilla turns the page again, greedy eyes scanning for more. This is a list. It does not appear to be written in any order except that by which Beth had thought of them – so, roughly categorical, if you have a critical eye.



Research:

ESP
Trajectories
Height of Farfax Condominium building
Falling Acceleration
Neurological action at death
Local rumor – try social media?
Malaise
Schizophrenia?
Emotional Dependence
W. H. Auden
Family history?
Weather
Recent trends
Prediction


Just as Rosalyn thinks she can’t take much more, a hand pulls the book from Priscilla’s lap. She looks up in surprise. Dark eyes framed by impossibly long eyelashes. Shock of tangled black hair. Reproach written on a deceptively soft face. But the lips do not move to scold. Beth simply takes the book without a word, sits at her desk, and begins to scribble in it with an old fountain pen.


Inventory: FOUNTAIN PEN


More to the Point


Just something about the way the ink is drawn from between her fingertips. Like it’s the black inside her coming out. Fountain pens do bleed more easily – but that’s exactly why she likes them.


Inventory: HAND SANITIZER


Cleanliness is Next to Godliness


And Beth always did think highly of herself. She didn’t always clean herself so frequently, though. Sometimes she still sees the explosion of red.


Inventory: SUNGLASSES


Hiding in Plain Sight


She’s good at keeping her thoughts to herself, but the sunglasses help, and they dissuade people from talking to her. Nobody knows if she’s looking at them, either.



Attributes


Primary: Mental


Secondary: Social


Tertiary: Physical


Intelligence


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Presence


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Strength


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Wits


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Manipulation


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Dexterity


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Resolve


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Composure


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Stamina


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Skills


Primary: Mental


Secondary: Physical


Tertiary: Social


Academics


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Athletics


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Animal Ken


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Computer


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Brawl


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Empathy


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Crafts


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Drive


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Expression


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Investigation


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Firearms


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Intimidation


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Occult


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Larceny


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Persuasion


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Politics


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Stealth


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Socialize


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Science


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Survival


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Streetwise


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Weaponry


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Subterfuge


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Merits


Common Sense


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Library: Occult


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Eye for the Strange


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Fast Reflexes


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[JayTee]

Name: Roland


Age: Mid 30s


Gender: Male


Occupation: Underworld Contractor.

Spoiler

Worst thing you've done: Murder, smuggling, blackmail, extortion. The list goes on. When you don't have anything except for a whole lotta capacity for violence and a willingness to commit shady deeds for cash, your job prospects are kinda limited.


Worst thing you can imagine yourself doing: See above.


Worst thing you can imagine someone else doing: No need to imagine. I've seen it. People are all kinds of crazy.


Most traumatic experience: Probably the first time you kill someone for cash. Changes you. Not for the better, not for the worst, but it changes you.


Worst thing you've forgotten: Time has... seizures, every so often. Things take far longer or far shorter than they should be, and occasionally I see things that have happened or might happen.






Attributes


Physical Primary: Str 2 / Dex 5 / Stam 2


Social Secondary: Pre 2 / Man 1 / Comp 3


Mental Tertiary: Int 2 / Wits 2 / Res 3


Skills


Physical (Primary)


Athletics 2


Brawl 1


Firearms 4 +1 Handguns, +1 At disadvantage


Larceny 2


Stealth 2 +1 In plain sight


Social (Secondary)


Empathy 1


Persuasion 3 ,+1 Friendly rapport, +1 Getting what I want


Streetwise 1 +1 Black Market


Subterfuge 2 +1 To your face, +1 Half truths


Mental (Tertiary)


Academics 2


Occult 2 +1 How to "handle" it.






Advantages


Willpower 6


Integrity 7


Health 7/7


Speed 12


Initiative 8


Defense 4


???


Gnosis 3


Wisdom 7


Mana 12/12


Fate 3


Time 2


Mind 1


Merits


Danger Sense 2


Resources 2


Professional Training 3 (Underworld Contractor)


Asset Skills (Double 9s): Firearms / Persuasion / Subterfuge)


Contacts 2: "Legitimate" businessmen.


Equipment


Smartphone


Wallet ($50 cash, assorted contacts cards, a fake ID, pre-paid debit cards)


Multitool


Handgun (Light Pistol stats)


Leather jacket. (concealed Kevlar Vest, 1/3 rating)

 

[Ozmic]

Thomas Maxwell Creed

​

“This is very simple, alright? It’s a demon. Yes, a real one. You didn’t look at the plans very hard when this place was built, did you? Course not. Some clever sod built the 13th floor in just the right configuration to conjure summat up, and now it wants you, among other things. If you don’t want it to get you, you will stand in that circle and be very still. I’ll take care of the rest.”



Age: 33

Occupation: Ex-professor/Bartender

Addictions: Alcohol, Nicotine, Painkillers, Research

Strengths: Intelligent, Lucky, Quick to Think, Quick to Act, Strong Willed, Resilient

Faults: Addicted, Confrontational, Untrustworthy, Paranoid, Substance Dependence

​

A brilliant mind is a horrible thing to waste.

The scene was a usual one. Weekly, if not nightly some weeks. This man, Thom, was once a well known and respected professor at the local college. He was a brilliant man, exceeding not only in his field, but in his relations with the students and other faculty. But one morning, he'd awoken a changed man and his life had quickly changed with him.


The world was a cruel place and Thom was finding that there was something wrong with it.


Not the usual wrongs that you'd think - politics, religious squabbling, a city in distress. No, there was something deeper and it dragged the man down, making him almost a shell of his former self.


Whatever it was, it lead Thomas Creed on the fast track to divorce, a life of heavy drinking, and a strained relationship with his children and ex wife. The more he drank and became reclusive, the less he saw of them and the greater the relationships crumbled.


Then, there was only dust.

No simple survival for me...

Cigarettes. What a dangerous vice. More-so if you're unlucky or not thinking straight.


They linked the apartment fire on 8th and State Street to him. Mark another one down for Creed. Like always though, he was a survivor for better or worse. Gifted and cursed with some kind've sick luck to be in just the right place. The timing, however, that's where he faltered.


He was the first out, then almost the last. Going back in to get his wedding ring, he stopped to help another couple get out safely. Quick to think and to act, he was able to get them out without anyone getting hurt. The landlord was thankful, not pressing any charges that would have landed him in jail.


Thankfully, his old Impala had a big enough backseat to keep what he was able to save. Doubled as a bed too, if one didn't mind back pain. But, he was strong one and resilient to a fault. Giving up never crossed his mind, not matter how bleak things got.


He'd get to the bottom of things. There was always tomorrow...

Riddle me this...

1) What's the worst thing you've ever done?


"Wow. Nothing like a hard hitting question to start off with..." he said with a smokey exhale, blue-grey smog floating toward the ceiling. He watched it for a second, the haze, then looked back down.


"Worst thing I've done? There have been a lot, especially lately, but I'd say leaving my life behind. Hell, leaving my daughters without a dad." He seemed to think about this for a minute, then waved a hand. "Let's move on."


2) What is the worst thing you can imagine yourself doing?


"Didn't I just answer that?" he said plainly with a chuckle, polishing off the last of a beer and adding to his collection of empty mugs. "Does leaving all this mess count?"


A smirk followed and a beat passed before he actually answered.


"There are thing I'd like to tell myself I'd do. Sometimes they worry me, especially after a couple of drinks. I've imagined the usual - going to my ex wife's house and taking the kids, smacking her boyfriend around to get him away from them, that kind of thing."


He sighed and shook his head.


"Just... that's not me. And honestly, he's a decent guy. Better to those kids than I've been since I left."


He sipped his beer thoughtfully and continued. "I think just going away for good would be the worst thing. Leaving everyone behind like my life before didn't exist." He frowned. "Honestly, it sounds pretty good sometimes... but I couldn't imagine hurting my daughters like that. I'm a bad father, but I'm not a monster."


3) What is the worst thing you can imagine someone else doing?


He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Honestly, after everything I've gone through, I can just imagine someone telling me it's all a mid-life crisis. Like I've just gone off the deep end and lost my mind."


He drank again, staring into the fuzz of his beer thoughtfully like a man half-possessed. "Yeah..."


4) What is the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to you?


"Watching my father die, then watching my daughter be born right after."


He chuckled at the expression that followed and continued.


"My father passed early of his own devices. Found out he was sick and wanted to go before it started getting bad. Save us all the grief. Fucking bastard..." he snapped and went quiet for a second before talking again, voice hoarse.


"Almost right after, Lill' was born." He smiled again, a bit sadly. "It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Lilly being born, I mean. But, in the back of my head, I just kept having the aching feeling that what if SHE was destined for the same fate later in life? And there was nothing I could do to stop it now that she was here."


Lighting another cigarette, he chuckled. "Maybe that's when all this started. The doubt that this was it."


5)Strange things happen in every life - what have you forgotten?


"Forgotten? That's a heck of a question to answer, pal. If I've forgotten it, that is."


He smiled, but got thinking as he finished the cigarette and scraped it out in the ashtray before him.


"Okay, here's one for you. Since I left my old life, there have been these reoccurring dreams. Hallways leading to places that shouldn't exist, or misrepresented memories. There just... I dunno. Something sinister about them that I can't always blame on being drunk when I go to sleep."


He shuddered, as if the air had gotten a few degrees colder.


"I'd just call them dreams but after my father passed, my mum had the same sorts of dreams. Only he was there. She said he kept saying that the door wasn't a door, it was The Gate. Fucking creepy, right?"


Shaking off whatever the memory had been, he huffed a laugh through his nostrils. "Guess booze really DOES effect your memory. I forgot all about it until now."


"LAST CALL BEFORE CLOSING TIME!" barked a voice from the other side of the bar.


"That's my cue. Be seeing you... but next time, no more questions, eh? Let's just drink and be merry."

 

[Ayl]

As above, so below. The view from Axis Mundi is infinite, you understand. Kill the god, and the river dies. Bind the river, and the god sickens. As moves one, so must the other. Realize, then, that I may push the right one to see your cancer return. Take your bulldozers away from this sacred place, or suffer.

Marcus Nicholas Kronner

General Info

Name: Kronner, Marcus Nicholas


Father's Name: Lionell


Gender: M


Age: 36


Birthdate: May, 15th


Occupation: Former: Police Detective, rank Seargent


Currently: Unemployed/Freelance Investigator


Bloodtype: A+

Strengths:

• Ambitious
  
• Brave
  
• Honorful
  
• Respectful
  

Weaknesses:

• Straightforward
  
• Unsocial
  
• Paranoic
  
• Impatient
  

There Was Once A Detective

Shit happens all the time. Whether it's a quick mug in a dark alleyway, away from the eyes of witnessess, when night's veil covers the horizon, or straight out bank robbing in mid daylight, or even in a simple 'cutback', Evil never sleeps.


But it shall triumph if no one rises to opose it. Balance must be kept, no matter the cost. Too much good is bad, but too much bad is also bad. Then, one might wonder which side is truly better. For Marcus, the answer is none. Only Balance is what matters. That was the reason he joined the Force.


Unlike many of his peers, he knew it was madness trying to change the world by yourself, from the beginning. He didn't become a detective to simply combat crime, but to keep the balance from tipping towards either Side. He was but a child when his mother, a federal agent, was murdered in cold blood. His father bailed on him before he was even born. A taste of both worlds. Bittersweet.


Bouncing from foster home to foster home, his behaviour being less than desirable, Marcus learned to take care of himself.Growing up, he'd seen and read enough to know the World was diseased. His badge gave him the power to do his part. Never the same place for long. His hard work paid off, and he discovered a corrupt politician. Same old story. In his youth, he dreamt of changing the world, but age made him weak. A lot of people were dying because of him, and he had to be stopped. Bullets proved effective.


Proof was circumstantial, not enough for time. But enough to destroy a reputation. Marcus was kicked out of the Police, for good. Now, he's on his own. He still have his old friends, and acts as a private investigator. He only takes cases he finds an interest in. That help him further his cause. Some refer to him as 'broken', or even 'murderer'. But he knows actions speak much louder than words, and he isn't short of those yet.

Private Interview

What is the worst thing I've ever done?


"There's no such thing. I never did anything wrong. Others may say otherwise, but they don't have what it takes to be me. To maintain order, to keep the Balance!" he said as he took another cigarette from the almost-empty pack. Lighting it up, he continued his train of thoughts. "But, if it really matters that much, I did kill people before. Two, actually. One was a gangster kid. Pulled his gun on me and shot, but missed. I didn't," he made a pause to exhale. "The other, was a senator. Bastard wanted to raze an entire neighborhood and didn't care who'd die in process, just so he could fatten his wallet. Wasn't the first time he'd do something so horrid. Someone had to stop him, for good. They never could prosecute, but I never denied it. Cost me my badge." he finished, letting ash fall into the ashtray.


What is the worst thing I can imagine myself doing?


"Going against my principles. Violating my code. Give either Side an advantage over the other through my actions. Disturbing the Peace. Even now, I strive to uphold it, even though I'm no longer a cop. But "cop" is just a title. It's one's actions that show you who that man is!"


What is the worst thing I can imagine someone else doing?


"Disturbing the Order. Stepping past his station. Everybody's got a place, and when someone denies that concept, they're commiting a terrible sin, and must be stopped.". Inhaling again, his lips formed a subtle smirk in the corner of his mouth. "I know, you would believe I've done so too. But I didn't go past my station. I've never lost sight of my boundaries, not one moment.".


What is the most traumatic thing that has every happened to me?


Putting out the cigarette, he answered again: "I keep the Balance, but I always tried to stick by the Good. You can imagine then how hard is it to shift sides. Do I regret it? No, he deserved it. But it was a totally different experience. Something I'll never forget.". Just as he was preparing to leave, grabbing his coat, he stopped to answer once more, before departing.


How I've changed? What did I forget?


"No one goes through Hell and comes back the same. I knew that when I started walking the path. Now, I don't trust anyone anymore. I'm my own counsel, and childhood naiveties have all but left me. Is that a good thing? Perhaps. It's what kept me alive, so it can't be that bad. But sometimes, I miss it. Being able to trust anyone, just like a kid. It was a good feeling, that of safety.". Letting out a sigh, he spoke for the last time: "Sorry, but I got a case. Hope you got what you needed.". With that, he turned away.

Equipment

1. Glock Pistol: Being the paranoic that he is, besides his work weapon, Marcus also had a spare pistol at his appartment, which he now carries around on his various jobs. The gun has no markings, making it impossible to trace.
   
2. Handcuffs: Sometimes, his jobs require he'd find some deadbeat and bring him to justice, case in which Marcus has found the use of handcuffs primordial.
   
3. Cellphone: While not a fan of them, as he knew how much these devices could hurt their owners, Marcus still considers it has its uses and carries it around just in case.
   
4. Smokes: These are of utmost importance, as they are the only ones that can calm Marcus in any situation. The familiar nicotine odour makes him able to focus on whatever enigma he's tackling.
   
5. A small Notebook: Marcus keeps everything noteworthy in there. Tracks of his jobs, important persons, phone numbers, even some of his most private thoughts, etc.
   

Stats

 

[Tronethiel]

2. “Once, we ruled in Atlantis. We sought to challenge the Divine, and so we were scourged from the earth. A blow so terrible it tore a great Abyss in reality and left our world Fallen. We who are so touched by God must control our hubris and understand that this is a gift given unto us. And it must be used accordingly.”


Tarot Signifiers: The Hierophant, The High Priestess


Mystery Card: Strength.


Keywords: Power & Command


Edward Price is a man of light, a voice for the people! In splendor, he rode the votes of his statesmen, and the support of more sinister entities, all the way to the U.S. Senate. His campaign? A centralized state capable of caring for the people as they deserve. Healthcare, necessities, guaranteed employment. A true paradise. Successful? Someone must've voted for him, right? He's senator now, anyway. Truth? Well, the truth is, despite concerning early campaign poll numbers, that various substantial and unexplained donations as well as last-minute support from several political, media, and religious personalities found Edward Price as the underdog victor of Senate elections in the state of New York.


Edward Price is man of shadow, a man in chains. Sometimes your accomplishments have nothing do with your abilities, your passion, or anything valuable about your person, really. Who can say if these things are even valuable? Resources, power, allegiance. These things are valuable. These things make the world go round. These things made Edward Price the man he is today. These things own Edward Price. Edward Price is owned by these things so that he may in turn own them. Too high a cost? Perhaps.


Edward price is a man with a wife. He used to be a man with a daughter. He is also the husband of a woman who thinks their daughter died in a friend's house fire. She did die, for all he knows, at least, but not in a house fire. The image of the charred corpse they drug from ashen ruins still wakes him some nights. He feels bad for the girl who burned in her place. It's hardly the worst thing he feels. Same build, close enough to be his daughter if she'd been burned alive. Not his daughter.


---


1. What is the worst thing you've ever done?


“I gave up Sarah, sweet Sarah. I told them I wanted to change the world. They told me they wanted to change mine. I like to believe that her sacrifice will make the world a better place. With each passing day, however, I realize more and more that her sacrifice is what's keeping the world just as it is.”


2. What is the worst thing you can imagine yourself doing?


“I've already done it. Sometimes I tell myself that following through makes it okay. The truth is that every time I tell myself that, it becomes far, far worse.”


3. What is the worst thing you can imagine someone else doing?


“I still have my wife...”


4. What is the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to your character?


“...”


5. Strange things happen in every life - what have you forgotten?


“Since my entrance into the lodge, it all seems like a dream. Irrelevant. Fake. Empty. Nothing worth remembering. You know...I do remember odd visitors when I was younger. I haven’t thought about them in years. They’d show up and my mother would immediately send my sister and I to our rooms. We were pretty well off. My dad was a House Representative. Like father like son, I guess. Anyway, we had so much stuff in our rooms we didn’t even think about what they were doing out there. It was usually silent though. You think they would’ve been talking, right? Hell, that makes me think of my sister. She died not long after the last visit. I remember being so upset because they wouldn’t let me see the body, just one last time, even as a kid. They said she got sick and went to the hospital. She never came back. They said the disease was too deadly so they had to cremate her. I guess I never really asked after that.”