((Continued from Taking out the trash))

Natalia came in to her apartment building late. The men at the door paid no mind. Ayden was dead tired. But worry and guilt weighed her down even more.

She made her way to her room. The wig and contacts and the remaining equipment, Ayden looked down at the case she carried, somewhere along the line she'd put her sniper rifle back in. She didn't remember doing it. The night played out over and over in her head, but she didn't remember putting it away.

The exhaustion weighed on Ayden. As she returned to the comforts of her self, the same pajama's she'd met Connor in and a blanket on her couch. She waited, patiently for any notion that Connor was home.

Exhaustion overrode worry and guilt, Ayden closed her eyes for only a second. Sleep took her away quickly...


Edited by Ayden, Jun 6 2014, 04:53 AM.

<big>Mass combat </big>



Introduction


Role playing games encompass a spectrum of competition that spans from highly combative, statistic based outcomes to fully collaborative team fiction. The former relies on character sheets, equipment lists, dice and random chance. The latter involves highly collaborative plot and outcome development where tense scenes are worked out off-screen between two writers. Together, collaborative writers intend to craft a story that is a surprise to other readers.

Forum based RPG's, such as The First Age, lies somewhere between those two extremes, but we lean more closely to collaborative-fiction than combative table-top gaming. However, there comes a time when data needs to be incorporated into the hierarchy of the site in order to maintain a sense of order when combat arises. Examples include channeler strength and experience levels as a viable gauge of dueling outcomes. While these are gray-areas in and of themselves, because creativity of the writer themselves must be taken into consideration, definitions allow us to grasp and utilize a rules-based magic system. From quantification and certainty comes the freedom to write stories out of what might otherwise be a mechanical role of the dice.

As there needs to be clear definitions among individual characters, there also needs to be a continuance of such rules that we can extrapolate into large-scale combat.

As the site and story of The First Age continues to grow, we are therefore going to implement our own version of "Campaign Sheets" to be used as reference for future large-scale warfare. These sheets will be relevant to anyone that writes on behalf of- or commands- a nation's armed forces, mercenary group, or otherwise establishes their own military following.

When your character comes into control of a group of armed forces, you will need to submit a filled out Forces Campaign Sheet. As Game Master, Ascendancy will monitor and approve these sheets and discern what information on them would be considered Common Knowledge, and therefore is allowed to be shared with the rest of the players, in- and out-of-character (OOC). Likewise, Ascendancy will discern what information is kept a strategic secret and withhold it from other players, OOC. As tactical and strategic information becomes shared In Character (IC, ie, in story), such information will likewise be updated for the rest of the site to see.

There may come a time that your character expands their power, influence, and armies beyond what the original Campaign Sheet lists. The only way this may occur is to parallel this expansion with posts made IC that describes how and why the character manages to implement substantial increases in their authority. Just as we require posts showing your character's use of the One Power as a basis to justify an expansion in their strength and experience, we will likewise require similar threads that justify the character (or nation's) growth in armed forces.


Play Report


If your forces engage in battle with those of another nation's or mercenary's armed forces, you'll be required to submit a Play Report that documents the outcome of the battle including a description costs in terms of personnel, life, and money.

<small>(Examples of a completed Campaign Sheet and Play Report are in following posts.)</small>

Potential strength in the Power only


About:

You need not have read the Wheel of Time books to play a channeler so long as you have a grasp of our magic system, but names which appear in parentheses alongside the following level are best estimates of strengths of famous characters from the books.  This information is meant to provide context and examples.

Updated scale:

This is an update to the 21-level One Power scale classically used across WoT groups to gauge strength in the One Power.  Due to new information revealed by Robert Jordan's notes, an updated scale has been released.  What follows is an adaptation of that scale PC's in The First Age.

The stronger the channeler, the higher on the scale they are.  In brackets you will find estimates of strength from famous characters in the books; additional information is meant to provide context and examples. If levels are indicated as full, contact Ascendancy to acquire permission to use that level.





Level 42 (Lews Therin; Rand; Ishamael  (highest male level))
The Ascendancy


Level 41 (Demandred, Aginor)
Men - Level full
Alric Xavier Ranier
Michael Vellas
Tan Li
Bastian Völsung


Level 40 (Sammael, Balthamael, Logain, Taim)
Men - Level full
Marcus Dubois
Nolan Trace
Manix Lir (deceased)
Elend Braithwait


Level 39 (Be’lal, Rhavin)
Men - Level full
Joseph Sinclair
Damien Oakland
Ryker Petrović
Aiden Finnegan


Level 38 (Lanfear (highest female level))
Men - Level full
Giovanni Cavelli
Elias Donovan
Sören Lindgren
Jared Vanders
Women - Level full
Rowan Finnegan
Nhysa
Sofia Vesilieva
Edurne Ferrón Arriaga


Level 37 (Graendal, Asmodean)
Men
Jaxen Marveet
Yuri Obrechennyy
Aleksandr Vasilievich Petrova
Women
Nadia Sokolov
Oriena Rusayev


Level 36 (Nynaeve, Semirhage) 
Men
Jensen James
Nazariy Moroz
Women
Zoya Bocharov
Meera Alam


Level 35 (Mesaana)
Men
Cain Belasis
Leon Corlinson
Kaelan Müller
Women
Tehya Alisdelisgi
Katya Alokhin
Melany Alvarez Tai Terrones


Level 34 (Moghedien)
Men
Sámiel Pekelniak
Women
Claire Novak
Zhenya Disir
Roza Vas
Irihapeti te Rakena-Williams


Level 33
Men
Allan Rikovi

Level 32
Men
Vladimir Perov, (deceased before reaching full potential)
Women
Katchina Makawee
Danika Zayed

Level 31
Men
Carolyne Weber (Transgender)
Idris kidani
Women
Victoria Wolff
Morven Kinnaird
Evelyn Avalon


Level 30 (Egwene, Elayne, Aviendha)
Men
Nox Durante
Alexander Knight
Jet Terrone
Women - Level full
Aeva Morgan
Natalie Northbrook-Grey
Ayden Hayes


Level 29
Men
Ivan Sarkozy
Gideon Marquis
Women
Spectra Lin
Emily Shale


Level 28 (Cadsuane)
Men
Panteni Saladin
Matías Amengual
Women
Annika Mikhalka
Anna Rodriguez


Level 27
Men
Jay Carpenter
Andrew Koehler
Women
Nesrin Aziz
Casey Bennett

Level 26 (Elaida, Moiraine – Minimum level to use the Chodean Kal)
Men
Tony Soloyov
Quillon Hawke
Theron Finnegan
Women
Aurora Durante (deceased before reaching full potential)
Kemala

Level 25
Men
Deveny Sándor (Ezekiel)
Women
Cadence Mathis

Level 24


Level 23
Men
Mikhail Sergeyev
Daniil Myshelovich Tarasovich

Level 22
Dane Gregory


Level 21 (Average Asha'man strength)
Men
Sebastian Volodin, (decreased before reaching full potential)
Women
Serena Morrigan


Level 20
Men
Cruz Vega
Women
Ilesha Fisher
Rachel Shale

Level 19
Thalia Milton
Katya
Colette Moreau


Level 18 (Verin – Minimum level to Travel – Necessary to become Master)
Daiyu Sòng
Helena Asquith


Level 17


Level 16 (Average Aes Sedai strength)


Level 15
Eliot Lagueux

Level 14


Level 13


Level 12 (Minimum level to become Expert)
Seraphis Arden

Level 11


Level 10
Men
Pyotr Grigory
Women
Liv Sokolov


Level 9 (Average strength of all male channelers on planet)


Level 8


Level 7


Level 6 (Average strength of all female channelers on planet.)


Level 5 (Diagian – Minimum level to become Aes Sedai –Minimum level to become Adept)


Level 4


Level 3


Level 2


Level 1

About six feet tall, Akantha could see the immigrant males in the eyes, though most preferred not to return her gaze. Reptilian and with a vertical slit for a pupil, the Naga’s eyes were found to be rather unsettling to most humans. Her skin too, scaled in beautiful shades of brown, seemed to upset them. The older generations, used to these reactions, took to hiding their features; at first disguised amidst the lepers and their bandages; then, as time went on, through similarly concealing garb.

She wore dark shirts and trousers; made of a comfortable material that easy to move in. For the time being, in the safety of the deeper levels of the underground tunnels, Akantha could walk about without the need of using her hood and scarf to veil her face. A face that, for the moment, found itself glowering at nothing in particular.

Another day had passed without Sato’s return. She needed to do something. Why were their scouts not returning? Sato worried her. He was, dependable. Whenever he left the safety of their small colony, he always returned as promised… when promised. If something ha---


A human child nearly ran into her. He came to an abrupt stop, panting, with eyes wide and uneasy just before bumping onto her legs. Small pointed chin tilted as far up as his neck would allow, he stared at her and gulped as her eyes narrowed. Of course, none of the immigrants truly feared them, having lived together so long, but many stepped lightly around her. The small, scaleless creature was lucky she managed to spot him and stopped in time.

She’d seen him before, of course, always being chased by two more of his kind. Looking past him, Akantha immediately saw the following pair. One stopped some distance from her and the boy, pulling his companion to an abrupt halt next to him. It wasn’t difficult to decipher what was going on, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

The small ruffian that had nearly ran her over shifted uneasily in his feet and glanced back behind him. He must have been twelve years old, or at least she guessed as much. It was difficult to tell how old the humans were, sometimes. They matured much faster than the Naga, growing like weeds and wilting just as rapidly.

Disheveled curly hair, scraped, and dirt smudges on pale skin gave her the impression he’d been rolling around on the tunnel grounds… and not due to any sort of odd human game. The other two boys seemed winded, but not as worse for wear as their apparent prey. The leader of the two possessed a strange orange tint to his hair while his face was covered with an odd splattering of light brown flecks. His friend was perhaps the skinniest boy she’d seen in the entire miserable human group, with a long nose that seemed as pointy as his chin.

Her thin forked tongue darted out to taste the air while her eyes remained on the other boys. Oh, there was fear in the air alright, and she had the feeling it had nothing to do with her. With a grumble, the Naga reached out for the boy in front of her with a clawed hand and set him aside. She had no time to deal with childish concerns, but she was irritable, and something tugged at her.

Lips drawn, poisonous fangs revealed, Akantha hissed at the two in front of her. “Looking for sssomething?”
The hiss and low sibilant sounds and rasp of her voice made the children take a step back. The boy in her grasp flinched, causing her to squeeze his shoulder a slight bit harder.

“n-n-no… nothing, nothing. We… ah… just going home.”

“Then go.”


The boys turned and ran. From her side, she could hear a small sigh and feel the boy relax slightly.

“Now you… go to your parentsss. There are worse things than bullies in these tunnelsss”


For a moment, she watched as the human child ran and turned down a different tunnel in the opposite direction than the other two. One of these days she’d have to ask the creature why it was that he was always running away from them.

Right then, however, what she meant to do was to gather her things and advice the elders of her departure. Sato had not returned, but she would find him. Her mind was made.
Edited by Akantha, Jun 5 2014, 12:42 AM.

Name: Akantha
Gender: Female
Age: 40
Race: Naga
Clan: Evakiri
Colony: Moscow


Appearance:

Sleek and dangerous Akantha is about six and a half feet long while in snake form. An Indian Cobra, the soft to darker brown scales and hooded ribs can both mesmerize and intimidate. As a humanoid, she is slender and as tall as most human males, retaining her scaly skin and reptilian eyes. While the extent of the human appearance among her kind ranges from the most minimal to the more reptilian like, she seems to favor more human features. However, like the rest of her people, her fangs and forked tongue are very much that of the snake's.

Personality:

Around her kind, Akantha is calm and relaxed. She does, however, hold very culture-centric notions. Her main concern is to ensure the safety and well being of her clan. To her, the Naga come first. Cautious around humans, she views them with a measure of distrust and dislikes the amount of dependency her people have towards them. This makes her seem distant and a tad bit too serious. However, she understand the benefits of the exchange, even if she is reluctant to follow through with it.

Biography:

Raised with the premise that the clan came first, Akantha had always viewed the humans with mild distrust and perhaps, even a seed of fear. As a result, she had always treated them with a certain amount of distance, reluctantly ensuring their safety if it meant the well-being of her kind.

Safety in exchange for food; it was an arrangement that had benefited both sides in equal measures.

In some ways, the humans were as much the outcasts as she was. Immigrants hiding underground, they lived with them, receiving protection from criminals in exchange for food and supplies. Thanks to this arrangement, her people no longer had to risk venturing to the surface and being discovered by more unsavory characters.

She could live with that exchange.

If Akantha could have had it her way, however, they would have left the Moscow underground some long years past. Unfortunately, reality was against her. They weren’t a large group, but they had some that were too young or too old to risk a journey that could expose them; and where would they go in any case? Like it or not, as some humans said, they were safest with the devil they knew than the one they did not.

Of late, things seemed to have become a bit more difficult for her people. The tunnels had grown more dangerous and causing more trouble than in the past. A few, like her friend Sato, had ventured out in search for answers. None of which had returned.

Three weeks had passed since Sato had left, days since he had been expected to have returned. Despite herself, unease crept under her scales and refused to be displaced.

Age: 32
Origin: Sora, Italy
Occupation: CCD Psychological Profiler

Powers: Sentient

Psychological Description: There are two sides to Alex. She enjoys her work, she is very professional and almost always has that intellectual vibe about her. But Alex knows how to let her hair down and have fun. Alex is very family oriented despite the lack of having a family of her own. Not that she hasn't been trying.

Physical Description: 5'4" 126lbs brown hair with blond highlights, green eyes. Alex dresses in business attire while working, but loves wearing everything but when she's not on the job. She keeps her hair pulled up in a bun while working, she looks scholarly, but she loves to leave it down and have fun.

Biography:

Feb 2, 2015

Dear Diary,

Today I turned 5. The world pressed in on my for the first time. I was with Lucio. He helped me as father had helped him. Lucio became my calm center, my safety net. He walked me through everything. He told me what I am. Told me I was Sentient. That it was my gift to feel what other's felt. To know how to help them, or how to hurt them. Lucio is wise, he's six. Father taught Lucio last year how to be unique. He taught him how the world worked, and Lucio taught me.

It's very weird feeling everyone. Mom, protects us from others like us, Mara too. Mara is 9. Everyone has special powers. Father is good at manipulating others. But mother says he's good at it all, he is one of the most powerful Sentients in a long time, or so mother says. Lucio as like father, he could manipulate people, make them feel and do what he wanted. Christina was too young, she was only 3. She's a sweet little girl. Mother and father are back together because of me, but it was Christina who united us all again, forever.

Sören (Sir-in) Lindgren

2026

The room drips shadows. The dark places writhe, calling him like crooked fingers. Trinkets hang from the ceiling, beads and tiny skulls, feathers and dried skin. Noises shuffle. Somewhere in the darkness sounds the tinkle of chimes, disturbed by no wind. She sits on the floor amid the chaos, a square of white cloth in front of her. It is a dare to be here. He thinks she is a cliché, a charlatan. But he does not like the weave of her fingers, the glint of carved stones in her grip, clacking together conspiratorial of his fate. He senses his mistake too late. The lack of control rolls anger in his gut, but submission to his curiosity lulls him closer. He needs to know what she knows, even if it is lies, and though he holds the price he is willing to pay close to his chest, the curve of her smile suggests she knows the answer. <em>Anything.

There is nowhere to sit but the floor. He doesn't want to, but even at fourteen he is tall; he towers and it makes him uncomfortable. "Mamsell."
That's an old honorific, something he shouldn't know, but he reads old things. Her brows flicker surprise but she accepts the words and nods. Finally, he sits.

When she speaks it is in Swedish. The words are mechanical, and he watches her hands more than he listens. Her fingers are very pale, her nails short and clean. The stones peek dark between the flesh. They whisper.

The secrets they keep irritate.

He flips his wallet and offers two crisp CCD notes, but she scowls at him - he has obviously caused an offence. Then she drops the runes. He stares curiously at their alignment on the cloth, drinking in the knowledge that is utterly indecipherable to his gaze. The cut of the shapes and symbols forge a link even so. He wants to know more. Intent, he reaches out. His finger touches one in the same moment her hand moves to stop him. In the brief moment of contact she snatches her hand away, speaking in a rush. Her eyes have widened, afraid he thinks, though the breathy rush of her voice suggests that maybe she is just shocked. He does not know what has happened.

He stays for more than an hour. When he leaves, his expression is heavy.</em>

• <li style="display:none">
  
• Fragments (Ivan)
  
  
  
• Changing Course (Alone/Declan NPC)
  
  
  
• In Due Course (Declan NPC)
  
  
  
• Accepting Consequences (Morven)
  
  
  
• Celebration Time (Dane - Methos, Hood, Danika)
  
  
  Edited by Soren, Sep 26 2016, 01:23 PM.
  
  

Continued from Dreams of Fire

Awareness came to Jon for perhaps all of five seconds on the floor of the train. Long enough for the cold, dirty metallic floor to register its corrugated grit against his face. Long enough to wonder if he'd managed to do any good at all.

Long enough to see the bleak outline of a body bag.

“Sleep for now.”

Something pinched him. He was being rolled over onto a stretcher by a man in a hazardous material suit. It registered to Jon that he was helpless. He found he couldn't focus well enough to even sense the Great Spirit, and that it was incomprehensible for him to actually imagine wrestling it to his will at the moment. If he even still could.

One thing was certain. The situation was no longer under his control. But there was one thing he could do. Consciousness faded, and he stepped out of his body.

* * *

Faceless, formless, Jon found himself in that place with millions of glittering lights, a place with infinite space and none at all, that lay between the Spirit World and the waking world. But even before Jon came to any other sense of awareness in this place, he saw his spirit guide. The spectral white coyote materialized before him, waiting patiently. Or at least that's the way he perceived it; nothing had any shape or form here.

Okay. Here he could actually do something. He sought out one of the twinkling lights. It appeared before him, and like looking down into a snow globe he was able to see what was going on. Yes. A huge white wolf facing down a moose that had gotten itself surrounded by the rest of the pack.

Jon projected his “voice” into the ball. BEAR. IT IS JON LITTLE BIRD. I AM UNCONSCIOUS AND HELPLESS ON A TRAIN IN MOSCOW. CONTACT CAROLINE. SHE WILL BE ABLE TO FIND ME IN THE WAKING WORLD.


The dream winked out of existence. Next was finding Caroline. Unfortunately Jon failed to find her dream. That was odd. He'd expected her to still be asleep. Unfortunately, she'd be in for a surprise when she got a call from someone who sat on the Council of Native Americans, who happened to know Jon was in trouble. But she'd believe it, and she'd be able to trace his Wallet, or make some calls. And maybe get a hold of someone. Hopefully. It would hardly be the strangest thing Jon had asked her to do.

Jon stepped across the gap and into the Spirit World. There, quick as thought, he had his body, clothed as an Apache scout. He grimaced at the .38 lever action rifle in his left hand, and it disappeared. Then he remembered the situation he'd just left behind on a conscious level and felt his heart jump, and reached for the Great Spirit. The power flooded into him. For some reason that reassured him, even though in the next moment he reminded himself that his abilities here was simply a reflection of his thought, and all that he really knew of his condition in the waking world was that he was still able to project himself here. If even that was true. What if he was dead and was really a spirit here, now? His heart skipped another beat.

The glowing coyote leaped, bringing Jon's attention back to it. “I know you aren't really there,”
he said to the thing. “Either I made you, or someone else did to bring me here.”
No answer. Well, wasn't that silly, talking to an animal projection? He glanced around, putting other thoughts out of his mind. Marble columns and white polished marble steps. This was Washington. More specifically, the White House. Why had he come here? He turned around and found himself alone.

Jon sighed and shook his head. It was pointless to go back to his body if he was still out cold, and Bear would share what he learned when he could. Until then he was stuck waiting. Might as well see what he could learn while around the place.

With a thought, he found himself in the Oval Office. Quiet, empty, the place radiated elegant simplicity. Although America was no longer an empire, it was still a force to be reckoned with. And the man who occupied this office, though he had great power and influence, was still at the end of the day just another person hired to do a job. The strength of America was not in its leaders, but in its principles. In fact the personalities of its leaders were oftentimes its weakness.

Pens and papers flickered in and out of existence on the desk. Jon rifled through papers, reports and other various things. He had to be quick; often, he'd pick up a piece of paper and start reading, only to have it change while in his hand. Anything moved much in the waking world cast a poor reflection here. Jon frowned as something marked “Eyes Only” that mentioned something called SUBGRU and a debriefing on some operation vanished before he could make out more.

There wasn't much of use that he could find. His eyes rose as he saw an analysis of HR 6213, which was the Native American Medical Privacy Protection Act, something the Council of Native Americans had been trying to push through Congress. NAMPPA was a largely low-key measure that protected the medical information and health decisions of tribal members. Passage was important to Jon because, although it wasn't explicitly spelled out in the bill, passage meant tribes couldn't be forced to turn over those afflicted with the Sickness or even report that information, where Great Spirit alone who knew could, or would, target them. It also meant non-natives could come and get treated without anyone finding out. And, according to this report, Frederick Dawson wanted to know what impact a positive or negative stance would take on his reelection bid. According to this none of his opponents were likely to make it into a big issue if he supported it, and a veto might give the talking heads some easy fodder. A good find, and one that bade well for his cause.

“Jon.”


Jon turned his head, and found Bear, in human form. The great hulking man grinned across the room.

“You look good behind that desk.”


Jon smirked. “I don't like offices.”
He set the papers down. “I hope you bring news that I'm still alive. Something is keeping me from waking up.”


Bear nodded. “Caroline located you. You're in a hospital outside Moscow. They are going to let you go once they find you don't have The Sickness.”


Jon laughed. What irony, ending up helpless until the doctors determined he didn't have the symptoms that indicated the trait that allowed him to wield the power that caused him to fall unconscious to begin with!

Then the laugh died in his mouth. Only he'd be able to find out if he hadn't harmed himself in other ways. He'd lost control, that was what happened. And to do that with the awesome force that was the Great Spirit was to invite destruction. He should have known better.

“Thank you, Bear,”
he said. What a shame he could not simply have Bear or someone else spirit his body into this place, away from untrustworthy eyes. It seemed that if one could go into the Spirit World with his mind, it would be possible to just...poke a hole through from one place to the other. How much simpler things would be if he could step across the world as easily in the waking world as here! “Can you see if Caroline can get someone close to me that isn't CCD? I don't know who she'd call, but there must be someone in Moscow trustworthy.”


Bear nodded. “Of course.”
He paused. “Jon, you need to come back. It's the Sickness. Noah --”


Jon stared at his friend. He'd heard the crazy old man had gotten himself a council seat. “What has he done?”


Bear put up his hands. “It isn't like that. In fact he's been most helpful in teaching effective treatments. And he's keeping the council happy. But he's told me we need you.”
He shook his head. “The survivors...I've seen them do things.”


Of course. The problem was obvious. While Jon was bumping up against others who had the ability to wield the Great Spirit, at home the secret was boiling over and about to break wide open. And there wasn't anyone to teach them anything, the way Jon had managed to teach himself. And Noah would know what it took to keep them alive. It stopped when you learned control. Or you died. He'd thought he would have had more time before he had to confront the problem.

He nodded. “If I don't get out of Moscow soon, we'll get me out.”
He regarded the phantom papers as they popped in and out of existence on the desk.

He should have known better. Those two at the club, Nick Trano, Dane and Nimeda and all of the other people and situations he'd been running after...

What a fool I've been
. Jon had been chasing phantoms in Moscow, and a hospital bed was where it had gotten him. It was time to go regain the scent of the real prize.

Leaving Jensen's apartment, Giovanni found himself wandering around the city and taking turns at random. As a vagabond, he had a good sense of direction and knew he could find his way back if needed. It's not like he really had a home to go to anyways.

His thoughts drifted. A lot had changed in a short amount of time. He had stayed in Moscow. For the first time in three years, Giovanni wasn't living the nomadic life. He still had to scrounge for food, but he was staying in the same place.

The power was the main difference. He had embraced his ability to utilize it, contrary to his beliefs that he was an abomination to do so. He had power now, so why not use it.

His appearance had changed as well. Not much, but he was dressing more fashionably even though he still stuck with mostly black. He had scrounged up (or stolen) enough to purchase some decent looking clothing that gave him less of a hobo appearance.

His wandering took him to the Underground City. He looked around seeing those that the city had forgotten about. Druggies and peddlers walked the streets openly. Prostitutes in revealing clothing stood at street corners while men watched, occasionally approaching one. Giovanni saw one man that reminded him of a movie he saw as a child - something about "buying death sticks."

Why am I here?
thought Giovanni.

He seized the power enhancing his senses. His change of dress had one flaw in a place like this. He looked like he had money and would be a target for pick pockets. As a thief, this is the kind of person he would have looked for. With enhanced senses, he should be able to catch anyone brave enough to try to steal from him.

Most of the thieves around here are probably poor at it anyways. Not even worthy of the title.


He avoided looking at the prostitutes calling to him, and sure enough before long, a young man feigned bumping into him. Giovanni felt the hand groping for his wallet. His speed increased by the power, Giovanni grabbed the man's wrist as he turned to glare directly into the young man's eyes.

There was fear there. A fear different from that of a normal thief getting caught by a cop. Cops were relatively nice, but the look in this man's face showed that he knew Giovanni was no cop. The young "thief" knew he would be lucky if he kept his hand after this was over.

Giovanni glanced at the man's had holding his wallet and returned his gaze to the man's eyes. He got the idea and dropped the wallet on the ground. Giovanni threw him to the ground, using to the power to enhance the effect a bit. The man fell backwards and crawled away before scrambling to his feet to run.

Giovanni brought his gaze up, and gave the same glare to those around him. Many dropped their eyes. The message was clear - this man is not a target.

Fool. The strong take from the weak, not the weak from the strong.
Giovanni thought picking up his wallet and beginning his walk again.

Many gave him a wide berth and Giovanni smiled. He had power. Not just the one power, but more than that.

I am a god. A god with no worshippers.
he thought.

That would have to change. He would need to find followers. The strong always dominate the weak and he was strong.


Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, May 29 2014, 08:21 PM.

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The First Age @The1stAge
Topped 2700 posts today!! Can we hit 3,000 before the 1 year site anniversary??? I think we can!