News runs wild about a young MSU student named Theo Andlain, who claims to be a user of magic, survivor of the Sickness, and terrorist laying waste to Moscow life and property recently. His bold claims come on a private internet channel that has thus far been unable to lead to exact whereabouts. However he is not hiding. In fact, he calls for those of his kind to rally to his position - that he can save their lives, teach them their magic, and work wonders.

He, and those in his group thus far, won Moscow's attention this week when they coordinated public displays of their power, first on a city highway, at the airport, and finally directly in front of Custody police. Theo regrets the loss of life and property, but claims the extreme acts were necessary to win the attention he needed.

He says he will continue to organize terrorist acts until the government acknowledges the truth. Until then the entire Custody argues whether he is a villain or a hero.

PC's may encounter members of his group in play, and certainly encounter the results of their actions. The Atharim and Custody intelligence are certain to be hunting him down meanwhile.

Scroll article: Supernatural rattles Moscow, ends in violence

Scroll article: Fire tears through Moscow

<big>Fire tears through Moscow, local man claims responsibility
The Report, 2046

</big>

Today a man posted on a private internet channel claiming responsibility for the fiery vortex that surged down the Garden Ring road yesterday. He has been identified as Theo Andlain, twenty-three years old, originally of St. Petersburg and currently a student at MSU.

<table>
<thead><tr><th colspan="1">Theo Andlain</th></tr></thead>
<tr><th></th></tr>
</table>


In his statement, he claimed the vortex was a sign of coming plagues he would unleash upon Moscow for every day the government denies the existance of magic-users. According to Andlain, young people of his kind are killed or kidnapped on a daily basis although he does not directly blame the atrocities on the government. He says he can be the hope for those who are afraid of what they are.

As apparent proof of Andlain's allegations, the video shows a small vortex of fire whirl above one palm, a miniature of what tore through the streets of Moscow yesterday. He claimed to regret the deaths and injuries caused by his actions but was forced to make a profound statement in order to be taken seriously. He warned additional scenes will follow in the coming days.

Theo Andlain's whereabouts are unknown at this time. Custody Police say the threats are being taken seriously and any act of terrorism will be dealt with accordingly. The public is asked to provide any information that may lead to his arrest or capture.

Comments on magic go unacknowledged.

<big>The Report: Moscow
2046</big>




Three acts of the seeming supernatural weather rattled Moscow today, each ending in violence.

First, during the morning commute, a vortex of fire three-stories in height surged down the Garden Ring road over a kilometer causing innumerable traffic accidents that were the direct cause of no less than thirty-four deaths and hundreds of injuries.

Then, in mid-afternoon, a blinding cloud of dense fog suddenly materialized over the Moscow International Airport rendering the airport to a complete stand-still until the strange phenomenon lifted. A jet bound for Minsk was in mid-take off at the time, but despite the low altitude, crashed several miles away. Eight were killed and over ninety injured.

Finally, in the central district of Arbat less than two miles from the Kremlin, police pulled an unidentified man from a vehicle for routine search and seizure. Witness-provided video showed red lightning streaked from the man and struck each of the arresting officers who were subsequently found dead at the scene. The man in question is unaccounted for and is considered the primary suspect in these events.

In the wake of these tragedies, official Custody statement expressed grief and sorrow over the deaths and injuries of today. Such mysterious phenomena have occurred with greater frequency. The Kremlin has denied allegations of other-worldly interference such as what has been compared to footage from the Battle of Jeddah in Dominance V, but the public demands these broadly witnessed atrocities be addressed. Pressure upon the Kremlin has increased regarding the inexplicable events.

A recent New York Times article discussed what most regarded as a stunt undertaken by American politician Nicholas Trano as some unidentified branch of science that the public deemed magical. Regarding today's events Nicholas Trano was unavailable for comment.

Last night I dreamed I was Ascendancy in real life. I've dreamt I was various RP characters in the past, but I think this one was the greatest dream of my life. Asc has an awesome life! And is a terrifying hell of a channeler!

Am I the only one that dreams they're their chars?

Three days inside the sterile white walls under the scrutiny of doctors and shrinks and various other medical personnel. Aria felt like a guinea pig, it was even worse than the way the Atharim had treated her. And then one day she was blindfolded and taken out of the facility. The only bearings she had was that she was ascending up and the moment they left the sterile facility she had been kept in. The smells were different. The people she could feel were more and more the higher she went and when they finally removed the blindfold she was lost in the light.

Aria found herself blocks away from home, almost literally. Or what used to be her home. She was blocks away from Lucas. He was her first stop. Aria had two wallets now, both highly secretive in nature, their encryptions were different yet she was sure that with both of the devices a hacker could have fun. Not that she would do that again. That had proved devastating. Aria still wondered what happened to the girl and how she didn't know the girl was a godling. But she had died of the sickness.

Aria walked the few blocks to Dueling Dragons and found the shop near empty. Only Sergei sat at the desk, from the window he didn't look well. Aria tried to pull open the door and it was locked. She knocked on the pane glass to catch the man's attention. Something was wrong and Aria wasn't liking this one bit.

Anyone around these part have characters or NPCs that own telecommunications companies that may have assets in Africa? And if so, interested in a brief tie-in to the Sierra Leone thread? Jacques is planning to take control of the telecom towers in Sierra Leone temporarily (which will likely tun into weeks and months and possibly into more such towers in other countries over time).

He wasn't sure if it had counted as a second date, but it had been as disastrous as the first. A fire had run them out of a high end restaurant, but the night had gone well after that, at least as far as he could gather. The second had been far worse; she'd called him for lunch because she was uncomfortable about her fellow cafe patrons, and he had left at the drop of a hat when he'd received word of the attack at the market. Only to leave her to be witness to an attack by something that had very likely been in the cafe before he had even left, from what he could gather.

Luckily, one of his men had been there to keep things from getting out of hand, and the police response time in Moscow was among the best in the world. It was a matter of some self-conflict that he had been so unaware to the threat at hand, but he had to admit to himself that he had been distracted by the company he had been with.

She had missed the Christmas dinner at the British pub he had mentioned on their first date, but the place was never entirely quiet. Churchill's Pub was located in the basement of a strip of old storefronts, sunken even further below street level as it occupied a space that had been first built some two centuries prior, and while it's location hadn't changed much, the road outside had steadily been added to and repaired, until the few windows in the pub were found in deep wells along the sidewalk's edge.

The interior was rich woods and rough red brick, the tables of an open arrangement rather then the more secluded booths found in most restaurants; it was a communal hall more then a mere pub and restaurant, a place where people came to meet friends old or new, although there were a few secluded booths. The place smelled of rich pipe smoke and lager, the shelves behind the long oak bar were lined with a dizzying array of scotches and whiskeys and ports. And a selection of vodkas, of course. Twenty tap beers lined the bar itself; no bottles or cans were stored in the back or in gaudy coolers behind the bar.

Drayson was dressed much as he usually was, minus one feature. His tie hung from a hat rack next to the door; the barkeep at Churchill's frowned on the work-atmosphere suit-and-tied patrons brought. He stood at a table where two old men were apparently arguing over some past imagined slight between them, apparently involving a fishing trip and a woman on shore. The details were not often touched on in the argument, as both men had been having the same one for going on sixty years. Details didn't much matter to them anymore.

Besides the pair of old men, there was a scattering of other patrons, but so early in the day the brunt of the pub's regulars were still pretending it was too early in the day to drink. Drayson of course only held a cup of coffee, as he was among that group who felt that the crack of noon was too early to be tipping back your first pint.

Straight from the mouth of the creator!

http://www.tor.com/2015/06/24/wot-compan...1-excerpt/

The briefing was held in the courtyard of the Legion's headquarters in Sierra Leone. Dozens of Legionnaires had gathered, and were greatly outnumbered by the refugees-turned-aid workers that were still housed in the adjacent buildings the Legion had appropriated to house them all in the first day of the fighting. Most had been moved to more organized camps, and those few that remained were being trained in first aid, administration, cooking, and a myriad of other supporting skills needed to keep the city from floundering under the current atmosphere.

The briefing had was not voluntary. Most of the Legion's surviving soldiers in Freetown were present. What few vehicles at their disposal had been fueled and what little ammunition that had remained in the supply issued out before the briefing had been announced. Word had already begun to spread that Interi-President General Wallace-Johnson had demanded Jacques' presence. There was also rumours of a Legion supply convoy that had driven from Casablanca only a few hours from the city bringing the promise of reinforcements and much needed aid supplies.

Jacques emerged from the main building as Legionnaires were still filing out into the courtyard. The mood was tense and sullen. Memories of the Masiaka refinery and their cowardly withdrawal still fresh in everyone's minds. Most understood that had they fought there it would have meant death in the long run, but that was besides the point. That was the sort of politicking logic that saw most of them abandon their home countries and militaries of previous service. Do what was right, not what was economical.

He was shrugging into the heavy kevlar vest of the old FELIN 2 combat gear, his pistol strapped to his left thigh. Once the vest was strapped down, his white Kepi cap was produced from a pocket and neatly placed atop his head, the white neck cover protecting the back of his head and neck from the sun.

A pair of officers followed him out then jogged forward to join the gathered crowd as Jacques climbed onto the roof of one of the Legion's SUVs, where he waited in silence for a moment as the last stragglers joined the crowd and everyone fell silent.

“Many of you have questions. About Masiaka, about my decisions there. I gave the order to withdraw, to cede the refinery to the government troops. I will not explain that decision. I gave the order. I accept responsibility of the consequences.”
He would take the their blame for that. Having someone to hold the guilt for that decision would save many from placing it upon themselves. The responsibility of leadership was not without it's burdens.

“Now I have a request of you. I do not ask this of you lightly. And know that this is not an order. Should you choose, I shall do all in my power to see you returned to Morocco. Severance pay will be drawn, and you shall be returned to your countries of origin, or to wherever you choose as your next resident country.”
Jacques was unusually serious of tone; he was a gambler by reputation, and was taking a big risk with the offer. The Legionnaires gathered before him had joined a private security company. Good pay, risky employment, but they were not soldiers anymore.

“Legion Premiere is no more. The company has been folded, the private investors are seeking lawsuits over lost profits and stocks. The government of Morocco seeks the closing of our headquarters and the training camp at Arfoud. The Legion stands, and I have made a decision. Commandant Tuff and the senior officers have sided with me in this decision, and we have left any angry politicians in our wake in the past few days.”
He let the implication sink in on those gathered for a moment. He was creating his own personal army, and breaking laws to do it.

“The world suffers a lot. Not because the violence of bad people. But because of the silence of the good people. I am tired of being silent. I am tired of appeasing laws set by politicians. I am tired of protecting profit margins, rather then people. And I am tired of governments failing their countries. Wallace-Johnson ordered the slaughter of innocent people under the protection of his soldiers. Orders his soldiers carried out without hesitation. Katlego ordered the slaughter of children, orders his soldiers carried out without hesitation.”
The quote was of Napolean, something that seemed to surprise people whenever they learned it. He had ordered they abandon refugees, and they had hesitated. But they had obeyed out of trust. The deaths of those refugees was the catalyst that had sparked the will to fight back among the people of Freetown. That support was what he needed to take the city as bloodlessly as possible. The support of his Legionnaires was what would see that accomplished.

“Wallace-Johnson has called me to meet him. He expects that I shall bow my head to his rule, and promise you men to train his soldiers, to win him the country, and see the Temne people slaughtered. I have a different plan."
The order was that he go alone, but of course he would have an escort to the parliamentary building that the General had made his headquarters. That escort would include the Legion's ace in the hole, Jared Vanders, should the man choose to involve himself.

"It is folly for a man to pray to the gods for that which he has the power to obtain by himself. I have the support of the city police. The military garrison of the airport. City workers. They are poised to take control of key locations throughout the city, with your support. Wallace-Johnson's soldiers are cowards. They do not deserve the title. An organized resistance will see them surrender in short order, especially once I have cut the head from the snake.”


A signal was given through the HUD of his Landwarriors. Every Legionnaire gathered received a datapacket on their own Landwarriors, or their Wallets, or PDAs. Inside were instructions for those key locations, of whom they would work with in seeing those sites secured. Known patrol routes of Wallace-Johnson's soldiers. The Legion headquarters had been hard at work with the planning of Operation Rien N'Empêche.

“We are working on a very tight time line here, gentlemen. It is time a difference was made. Sierra Leone will be whole again.”

delete


Edited by Aria, Jun 22 2015, 04:10 PM.