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May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.

Durion Caranthir

Fanya Niasa
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90 Setting the Bar High

About Durion Caranthir

  • Rank
    Nicely Seasoned


    Francois Telombre
  • RACE
    Mixed Elf - Southern/High
  • JOB
    Lord of Megildur / President of Narwa
    Amapa, Brazil - Tumucumaque National Park
    Corporate Oligarchs
    5'5" - unusually tall for a Southern Elf but he is mixed blood
    Ebony hair flutters down to his hips, often intricately woven in patterns down his spine.

    While he has the slender form of the elves, he is a bit more muscular than the average Southern Elf. His mixed heritage on his world blended Southern Elf, High Elf and what is believed to be simple human as close as his Great Great Great Grandfather. But his larger size and more muscular form which made him an outcast on his world, has also made him stronger and more durable, better suited to the less hospitable Earth. He has adapted his elven flair to the clothing of this world, his range going from simple jeans and elaborate t-shirts to flamboyant velvet coats with tails.
    While incredibly charismatic and people are drawn to him in droves, the elf is also a bit of a megalomaniac. He has a need to seek power. He also suffers from a fierce sense of entitlement for all the "wrongs" he was done in his previous life.

    Durion is as comfortable seducing his latest conquest as he is doling out punishments for those that he feels have crossed him.

    He loves a good party and throws big ones.

    He is one of the few elves that while flamboyant does not exude "dandy" but rather some haunting sensual prowess that tends to attract others like moths to the flame.
    Megildur (formerly Amapa - Tumucumaque National Park) This is a former preserve in Brazil that extended approximately 15,000 sq miles; one of the smallest national parks in South America. As one of the first stranded elves in the territory he did not gravitate towards the cities as the displaced humans had, Durion instead headed for the elven nirvana, claiming the difficult to traverse wilderness. Now Megildur boasts his large manor and a number of smaller homes, owned by his "people".

    Narwa - the export company is based in Megildur and the core of his financial stability.

    His elven harp - a masterpiece of elven carving that somehow had come with him in the great break between worlds

    An elven bow and quiver also from home.


    Durion had a mild ability to encourage things to grow on his world but nothing that rivaled most elven. In 2010 when he was dropped on this world he found the plants responded more readily to his encouragement. Still not a big power but it was more than he had once had. But then 2013 corrupted South America. When he woke from his unconscious stupor he found he was cocooned in an exquisite hammock of wood that had molded into a shelter against the world. His power had magnified to something so much more than simply encouraging plants to grow.

    Inherent Weakness: These limitations apply across the board to all of his abilities.
    1) Durion must be able to move. The fluid motion of the elf is like a reed on the wind. If he is bound tight enough, or incapacitated, he cannot use his ability. Movement functions as a connecting meditation to the earth and plants around him.
    2) All material moved/shaped must be natural. Processed steels, concrete, and other man-made materials, despite their original earthly derivation CANNOT be moved or worked with. This also means that if he attempts to pull Earth or Stone through concrete, it can take time for him to access it as well as extra energy expended.
    3) Extensive and focused use of his abilities has a debilitating effect on his body. His fluid motions begin to stiffen and slow. His reaction times degrade, until he is eventually unable to move. If he takes it this far he will fall into a stupor like sleep for a full day as occurred when he terra-architected his glorious manor.

    If a vertical surface has enough natural earth, stone or plant in it, he can cling to those surfaces with his feet or hands like a bug climbing a wall. His feet, for this to work, would have to be bare. Limit: it must be natural materials (dirt, stone etc), he cannot, for example, climb up a skyscraper in this manner.

    By causing the earth around him to vibrate back and forth, he can create dust clouds of various sizes to provide cover. Will not work if he is on manipulated earth (streets, tar, concrete)

    Taking Terracloud to the next level he can force the ground to crack and open up into a fissure. The size will vary based on the stability of the ground to begin with but typically it can be a gaping hole 5-6 ft wide, 12-20 ft deep and 20-50 ft long. In an unstable Cliffside he could potentially cleave a section of stone right off the side to fall below. Something much larger than his typical will drain him.

    Durion can forcibly sink an opponent into the ground, imprisoning or even suffocating them in the earth. As the distance his ability has to travel in the earth weakens the effect, the person needs to be within 75 feet for this ability to sink them more than to their ankles. At 100 feet away there is no effect. But within 30 ft can be very dangerous as the elf can sink a person up to their neck in the earth around them.

    Terrawall: Is able to cause a wall of earth up to five feet thick, fifteen feet high and thirty feet long to rise out of the ground in a single formation. This wall will offer as much protection as the earth that created it, if the earth is sandy it will be weak but if the earth is riddled with stone this wall can be like a concrete structure. The wall can be erected no further than 50 feet away from himself and doing it more than once will deplete his reserves.

    Terralaunch: He can cause blocks of solid earth and stone to rise from the ground up to four feet in diameter and then by either kicking or hitting them can launch them with inhuman strength at a target. These can be launched up to 50 yards and with the force of a Mack truck.

    Terra-Manipulation: He can make things grow as well as invoke movement in the plants. Vines for example can be used to snap like a whip or to ensnare. The plant must be within line of site for him to do so and causing anything to extend or grow beyond a natural 20 yr growth pattern is draining.

    Terra-Architect: Durion is able to create monolithic works of art from earth and plants. Encouraging trees to grow and the rock to reform until structures such as his own manor are created. Able to manipulate the rocks and earth around his home, he even realigned waterfalls to come down in the roof of his bathroom and run under the wood and stone floors to exit from under his porch. This is a much more intense focus ability and he is often forced to rest during larger creations or else suffer from his stupor sleep to recover.
    Charismatic leadership - Durion still managed to have an interesting following on his world despite his outcast status. He has a knack for making people follow him and even go so far as protect him, putting themselves in danger.

    Archery - One thing he truly had excelled at on his home world was his skill with a bow and arrow. The contests he had been permitted to enter were always won by the dark haired beauty. Now it has become what it was truly meant for, a survival skill that helps put meat on the table and keeps invaders at bay.

    Harp - His long fingers are best suited for two things, playing a woman, and playing his massive harp. The elf learned from his mother, a skill he didn't share on his own world but on earth it has become something he enjoys to do, particularly as it often leaves the people around him in awe.

    Seduction - in earthen terms, Durion is a playboy, and a good one. He likes his fancy things and his fancy women. It seems almost an unnatural skill the way they often will fall to his feet, but in truth it is simply his personal magnetism mixed with a real flare for seducing.
    The dark haired child was born under a bad star. His mother was high born, his father.... was not. She had tried to lose the pregnancy on more than one occasion, unsure if the child she carried belonged to her high born husband, or the fling she had dared to have. The answer came when the child of the angel blond couple came out dark as the devil. The birth had been particularly hard on his mother as well, she had been petite even for an elf, his mixed blood had made even his bone structure large for a baby. The father he would never know clearly had human somewhere in his heritage.

    He was outcast immediately. His "father" instantly recognizing the child as not his. Without his mothers knowledge, in the middle of the night the child was whisked away and left on the doorstep of an old woodland elf woman.

    That might have been the end of his story, but the old woman had spent her life childless and marked "evil" by her own village which was how she had come to live alone in the woods. And then there was his mother. By the time she had recovered, the child was gone two months. It was from one of their servants she learned of his fate. When her husband was away, the delicate woman instead of seeking the bed of other men, now sought the side of her outcast son.

    The two women raised him with all the strength he would one day "rule" his domain on earth with.

    Falathiel, the old woman, taught the boy the woodland skill with the bow. He was barely more than a child when he began to best her with his own skill. Meanwhile his mother taught him the manners of the high born, and with them, the beauty of the harp.

    As a young adult the elf had learned to "blend" in regular society. His mother had given him a taste for the finer things and he sought to garner a place in the society that shunned him that would grant him those things. He was forever learning he was not as "good" as others, yet forever proving he could perform better than those "above" him.

    His personality warped in the world that didn't agree with his lofty goals. Those of even lower status were drawn to him and he was content to entice them to wait on him hand and foot. He also was a favorite in the beds of high born girls that would in public never admit to even looking at him but were all too eager to thrill at his dark caress.

    Durion early had a taste for the finer things that his mother had but never shared with him, a fact that as he grew older made him bitter towards her. She was trying to hold him down like everyone else. He grew into a devious nature that bordered on megalomaniac.

    After the 2010 Nevus Event:
    Durion had come into his full adulthood as Captain. It was about the highest rank he was going to be permitted considering his lack of lineage. He had an entourage of nearly 20 that looked up to him and cater to his whims much like servants did the high born.

    It was about then that the world ripped asunder.

    It was 2010 on earth, the world that he and a portion of his home was torn and dropped upon when the worlds overlapped. All the work to gain what he had... decades of scrapping... and he was now on a world, alone, with nothing once again.

    But this world he quickly learned was "new". the hierarchy of his old world didn't exist here. He was no less than any other soul scrapping for survival. And that was something he could exploit.

    While people were scurrying to get to cities and find supplies. The elf that could live in the woods with just his bow and arrow, hauled his harp into the wilds of Brazil, finding nirvana in the Amapa national park. Once he had established a home, Durion began to venture out to find new "followers", quickly learning that his charm drew people to him. The ease with which he settled into a life in the new world was a draw to elves and fae that found themselves struggling to come to grips with their new life. He was the example to live by and many came with him into his wilderness retreat, slowly building a village unto itself.

    But people were only part of power on this world. The other part was riches. He needed to send something into the big world to be able to truly gain the status he was after.

    Narwa - The time he had on earth before South America was glutted with elves from a dozen other realms was used wisely. His charisma drew the destitute quickly to his flock. It was not too long before he began to understand the way the world had been before the 2010 event and what it was now. There was a dire need for supplies that he readily had at his fingertips in Amapa. Narwa was born. The company is the single largest exporter of Iron Ore, Soybeans, Sugar and perhaps most profitable at the moment, Coffee.

    His power had grown but nothing like it did after 2013. The blend of worlds that occurred in 2013 across South America was unprecedented. When Durion woke in a tree cocoon protection of his own making, he knew that he had finally come into real power. Now to see what he could do with it.

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  1. Durion Caranthir

    Fae Fury is coming......

    Stay a week…. a year… a lifetime…. choice is theirs. “Is it really?” Brow quirked upward at the man, bit of a smile creeping at the corner of his lips. The seafarer was quite the mistrustful one. Of course. I hardly have the time Mr Muireadach to be forcing anyone to do anything. I am running one of the largest companies in the world. I need people working there that want to… not ones that need to be babysat. If I decided to start forcing their hands it would all unravel. He had no need to lie to the man. For all his arrogance, the elf was typically honest in his words. I get help that can be trusted not to blow up my home…. they get a chance to get on their feet in a place where they are safe from the outside world…. “I don’t vet anyone before I bring them here, so what they do here is on you.” True, though I pity the one that decides to take advantage of my offer. I protect those in my lands. Satisfied? “No, but it’s not my choice.” The faint shrug acquiesced to the man's mistrust. There was little the elf could say to change his opinion. Time and interactions were the only things likely to sway the man. Elongated ears dipped listening to the speech given to those below, a smile ghosting across his features. The man's refusal to leave any of them here if they didn’t want to stay was the final confirmation that the elf had chosen well. This man was a leader and protector of their kind. Whether he felt he was or not. The massive avian's beak perked on the sides in a smile that almost passed for warm considering the carnivorous appendage making the gesture. He began talking to the people as they departed the ship, gesturing towards the oversized all terrain truck that easily accommodated the half dozen in the comfort of the air conditioned cab. The trek wasn’t far but it was without a road which meant walking would only delay the comfort of food, drink and a bathroom facilities that put the Ritz to shame where they could wash up and make their decisions. The elf waited for the seafarer to return and gestured to his own two person vehicle in askance if he would join him. “I’m going with. Not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust anyone until I see it with my own eyes.” Fair enough. Would like a few questions being answered about the northern lands while you come take a look. I have heard some rumors that concern me. The elf effortlessly hopped over the half door of the military grade jeep and waited for the man to make a choice. As it was, the elf wasn’t sure if the man was so paranoid he would want to join the passengers in the truck. The elf wouldn’t take offense but it would delay the answers he desperately wanted.
  2. Durion Caranthir

    Fae Fury is coming......

    The seafarer stood like a rock above his ship and yet flowed with its every move. Very elven actually. Rustle of wings told him that the caravans were on their way before the avian even mentioned it. The land quickly whispering to him the same. My crew is fine, you need to explain exactly what is going to happen here and I will transfer that information to my passengers before one person steps off my ship. After they’ve settled in, I will check in with each and make sure they want to stay or return with me. He highly doubted the crew were "fine". The journey down from the northern lands was rough going and not exactly many ports between to restock on supplies. Smirk tickled at the ageless expression. The seafarer was mistrustful still. The faint shrug clearly gave up any desire to fight with the man. Two miles inland is the halfway house. A stop over for a big meal and to learn of their options, which are two from there. Hands folded behind his back as he walked up the dock a ways, eyes peering a moment through the trees in the direction of the house before glancing back at the man perched along the rail. Well fed they may take the bus down to Rio. The city is dominated by outworlders. A bit noisy and too much….concrete…. for my taste…. Nose wrinkled a bit in his distaste before he continued with another faint shrug. …. but they can look for work there and set up a life there if that is how they want to go. No guarantee of an easy transition but at least a guarantee that they are not hunted there… not reviled. The other option is they take the truck the rest of the way into my lands deep in the jungle. There they are guaranteed a home for each family and a job to get them on their feet. It is community living… they find a role to provide to the community in addition to working for the company. Hand waved absently… Tending the garden….the animals… something of that nature. In this manner their home and food is without cost and the salary from their job they can retain for a future. Some choose to save and then move on, find a place out in the world less secluded than my lands…. some… never use the money and instead choose to remain. Ebony silk whipped sideways on the ocean breeze, a hint of a frown as there was a distinct chill in the wind. Eyes watched the northern horizon as he added.. Stay a week…. a year… a lifetime…. choice is theirs. Murmur was a bit distracted as his questions were bubbling up once more. Cerulean slid back to the man above. I get help that can be trusted not to blow up my home…. they get a chance to get on their feet in a place where they are safe from the outside world…. A bit of mirth returned to the bright eyes as the lips quirked upward on one side, head tilting slightly. Satisfied?
  3. Durion Caranthir

    Fae Fury is coming......

    There had been time for the head of Megildur to near the docks by the time the boat was being tied off at the dock by Kahird. The military grade off roader approached silently, the blue gem on the hood creating a vacuum around the engine that devoured the sound allowing travel within the jungle terrain to be lethally silent. He dominated these lands, but he also was no fool, there would come a day the fight snuck into his territory and he wasn’t sending people out advertising their presence. The Avian watched the captain with what could almost be called a smirk on his beak as feathers over the right eye quirked upward at the reference to his "boss". Durion didn’t exactly spend his time coming down to the dock for every "stray" that sought sanctuary. The man was running the biggest corporation in the world, impressive for anyone, even more so considering it was entirely owned by outworlders. “…and I will stay docked here until they’ve all gotten to see whether or not they want to stay or go.” The elf had been just in time for the last comment. Head tilted at the familiar voice, brow quirking at the captain. Now that was a surprise. He hadn't been sure he would ever see the outworlder grace his docks. Their last encounter had been…..interesting. Muireadach…. The name lilted off the tongue that could wrap far more eloquently around language than those of this world, the head of the avian snapping around clearly surprised at his bosses presence. Foot hopped up onto the dock as he nodded faintly to Kahird who had already recovered his surprise and was securing all the lines. Hands slid into the pockets of the black slacks, the lavender turtleneck and loose billow of raven hair far more casual than he had been in New York. Walking along the dock, cerulean orbs kept their watch on the captain. I was not sure I would see you down this way. NPC: Vehicles are on their way Durion… Glance over his shoulder gave a nod to the avian. Thanks Kahird. Attention went back up to the seafarer. Have food and drink for you and your crew as well as those you carry. I have a few questions about the northern territories I would like to ask you.
  4. Durion Caranthir

    Fae Fury is coming......

    Rumors aren't rumors..... Deep blue orbs flashed at her. That was not the answer he had wanted to hear. Lips pressed into a thin line as he continued to listen the tale of the cold that was creeping for his lands. White is falling from sky there..... white......cold pieces.... Snow….. It was said absently as arms crossed, finger gliding back and forth over his lower lip. His lands had been a safe haven from even the wild weather of this world. He had been in New York in the winter, it was not pleasant, it had a beauty of its own, but still was not pleasant. He didn’t like how the outside world was starting to creep up on them. It had no place here in his borders. .... coming closer too.... Nostrils huffed softly as she plucked the raw cubes of beef from the platter. Letting her chew her food as he pondered the questions he wanted answers to. As she reached for water he finally spoke. How soon for the cold to reach the northland structures? He watched her pause, impatient for the answer but not willing to snap. The bastet was loyal and kept the outlanders he brought in safe. In return he held a respect for the woman. Days….. not much more…. Scowl etched over his ageless brow just as the flicker of light caught his attention. The gem at the front of the compound pulsing softly. Unlike the outside world where humans still sought a life without magic, here they let it thrive. The gem was reacting to another some five miles away which reacted to another at the docks where his watcher must have signaled another ship coming in. More refugees coming for safety… they were early…..and now he worried how safe they really were. Frown lingered as he lifted a hand to let her know the conversation would need to wait as he padded inside to get some shoes on. He was going to head down and meet the boat. He hoped his "ferryman" had some answers about the weather. ………… Eyes peered through the spyglasses from the small house near the dock. They were not expecting another shipment of outworlders this soon. Caranthir would want to know. Taloned hand lay on the crystal to ignite the magic and signal the warning before he walked out to greet the boat. Massive brown wings barely able to fit through the door as the raptor legs moved up the wooden dock, talons ticking as he moved. The avian dockmaster didn’t pass for "human", not even as one of the "pretty" winged humans. The raptor's beak punctuating the proud feathered head above the muscular torso as he waited for the rope to help guide the boat in.
  5. Durion Caranthir

    Fae Fury is coming......

    Bare feet padded through the stone halls of his home despite the chill they were emanating. The elf had a lavender cashmere turtleneck over a pair of black slacks that kept him warm enough in the home. There had been rumors... stories... about the cold and that it was spreading from the north. He would have ignored it if not for the fact that this was the coolest his lands had been since he came to this world nearly a decade ago. Frown wrinkled the timeless brow. He had enough to worry about. The outworlders had started showing up in his territory in droves. Word had gotten out that he was offering them sanctuary and they were taking it. Problem was he only had so much security and just like with the humans, there were good and there were bad outworlders. It took time to sift out the "bad seeds" and while they were being sifted, he needed security to keep the others safe. He really didn't need an ice age to contend with now. The flutter of wings caught his attention. Ipsin was going nuts near the windows facing the north. Ay'sha must be returning. Ipsin only got that excited for the feline woman. Had to be a cat thing. Plush slippers were slid on as he trotted down the steps to the large terrace on the eastern side of his home. He detoured through the kitchen to let his den mother know to bring lunch out to the terrace and to include some barely cooked meat. Not his preference but the feline woman would be needing to refuel after her trip and he didn't want to wait for the report. If an ice age was coming, he had some outworlders that he was going to insist "repaid" some of his kindness with their abilities.
  6. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    Control was a funny thing. The boatman had been correct in that the power had been carefully controlled, plants bending to his exact commands. But the anger that had fed it had surged without his permission. As they both ended up flattened on the deck of the boat he caught the amused eye roll and could only broaden his own smile in return as the chuckle bubbled rich in his chest. Wet and flattened out on the deck of a boat was not exactly what he had planned for the day. You are the right man. You know this to be true. “No I’m not.” You are. It was said with confidence as the boatman rolled to his feel, the elf rolling fully up into a seated position, bare feet pulled up flat in front of him as his arms lightly draped over the raised knees. The man was agile, nimble on his feet. If that had not already been demonstrated, it was clearly evident as he maneuvered on the rails of his ship. “And if I’m ripped from this world tomorrow, what happens to them then? Same thing that happened to those I was responsible for in my own. Leaderless death.” When that time comes... I will find another leader. Quiet words betrayed an understanding and respect. This boatman was more than a mere sailor. Another place, another time, he had been someone that might have been doing what the elf was doing now. Hand placed on the ground beside himself to deftly push up to his own feet in the fluid motion of reeds on the wind. “I wouldn’t have let you drown you know.” Who says I would have drowned? Do I seem so inept on the water? There was a mirth in his tone as he squeezed the front of the transparent silk shirt to get some of the water from its fibers. Eyes flicked up as the man once more went overboard. Water elemental perhaps? “Towels in the apartment if you need them.” Chuckle was soft. Suits and water didn’t really mix, a towel wouldn’t do much at this point. Fingers slid over his shoulder to pull the wild plait forward to wring of its moisture. “Ocean City. Be there a bit after I drop you off. Have to find a new anchor.” Gives you some time to reconsider the request. Hips rested against the rail, arms folding over his chest as the gaze drifted to the horizon, across a vast ocean where he knew their brethren were dying every day. Ha na-ovor na gar-edraith er a rist-estent cín cuil na ceri, i-na edraith-al a guin-nith uir. His natural tongue slid like milk over butterfly wings, the cadence one that didn’t exist in this world. Very roughly translated in this vulgar tongue….. It is better to have saved one and cut short your life to do so, than to save none and live with yourself for all eternity. The eyes were still fixated on the distant horizon before the serious cerulean orbs came once more to rest on the man. I believe you were once the type of man this rung true for.
  7. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    “Why are you ashamed to be angry?” I hold no shame.. The words were quiet as the breath came deeply. … most certainly not of anger. But loss of control is vulgar. It was a very elven thing to say. There were parts of his inbred heritage that he just couldn’t escape. Just as he could not escape that despite finding a home lush and green and now riddled with more "kin"… his home… his original home…. was more. The loss still evident as he spoke of his world with a distant tone that seemed to reflect back at him like a mirror from the boatman. "I moved oceans." The nod was faint but there. This strange world was so…. dead… in so many ways. It most assuredly lived, but not in the rich ways of other worlds. It was a child among the stars. Most those stranded on this world now had cultures that were older than this entire planet. Whomever it was the boatman was trying to raise on the box was either not there or ignoring him, that much was clear. Cerulean eyes blinked at the man as the sigh came and eyes met his own. He was still deciding. Deciding which way to go both on these water.. and in his life. Elegant brow quirked slightly back at the man before the anchor was let loose, the ears dipping away from the offending clank as the violent sound reverberated against the much more sensitive ear drums. The spray of words that followed were not understood but clearly not pleased by the turn of events. Lips parted but clamped shut as the boat took a sudden jerk. He knew very little about boats but he was certain whatever was coming next was not something the boatman was expecting or wanted to happen. A fact made all more evident as the man went over the edge. Blink was profound as head turned looking around the boat. He was miles from any land and not exactly an Olympic swimmer. If he had just been abandoned to his fate it was looking like a grim one. It was his turn to pepper the air with an array of vulgar expressions in a tongue this world did not understand. Hand reached over the side of the boat to call up the seaweed once more, the thick kelp weaving in tight basket to float heavy on the surface like a raft. He would just keep weaving and walk to the shore on a seaweed "boardwalk"…. only the amount of effort to do the intricate patterning was going to exhaust him long before his feet once more set foot on land. All of which passed his thoughts in a moment just before the boat took a sudden heave backwards and began to tip up on its hind end while turning. WHAT THE….. Concentration broken the few feet of "platform" loosened and began to drift away as his feet adjusted to keep his balance, elvish spewing from his lips just as the boatman launched himself up onto the deck. Shoes were kicked off, revealing sockless feet, one slapping on the wooden deck, the other against the wooden side of the cabin, clinging there like a spider able to stick to a wall as he engaged against the once living material to keep from falling over the side as the boat tipped. It happened all at once and yet in slow motion. The bright eyes drinking in the blade he instantly recognized as from another world, the snap of the cable causing a nasty repercussion as the thing flung through the air seeking blood. Like a reed the elf was already bending away when the boatman's weight hit him and they both ended up sprawled on the deck as the sound of the impact of the whip cracked against the air to flinch ears downward. The first sharp bob of the boat spraying water over the deck before returning to the gentle up and down of the waves. Blink up at the sky was thoughtful. He might have been grazed as fast as the cable snapped and he himself was incredibly fast. But the boatman had been faster, protective instinct having driven him. There was a faint tickle of a smile on his lips as he started to become aware he was quite wet now. He had chosen well. This WAS the man to help him set their kin free. As the weight rolled off him he stared at the sky, squinting up at the single spot of sun as the boatman's head hit the deck. “I think I know where the freighter is. Let’s get you to Ocean City,” Chuckle was dark under his breath as he lay there staring at the sky a moment longer before propping himself on one elbow, left leg cocking upward. There was something more natural and alluring about the elf as he lay there contemplating the boatman. Soaked gray silk clung to his body, bare feet holding a nice stain of sun as he rarely wore shoes at home, the blazer askew on his shoulders showing the lavender button-up was now virtually see-through as it clung to a fit chest and the cascades of ebony silk that had a moment before been woven together now dressed wildly around him and on the deck. The subtle grin remained. You do know, I did not need a display of talent to make a decision. Smirk betrayed he knew it had not been done to showboat but the elf too had a dark humor. He was elvish but he was also something more. His mixed blood burned a bit hotter than the proper high born of his world. Hand pushed himself back off the deck, bare feet slapping softly on the watered boards as he brushed the dripping strands back behind his shoulders before shrugging off the wet gray blazer to toss on the railing. Perhaps it would dry, perhaps not, either way he didn't want the wet burden on his own form. The lavender sleeves were unbuttoned and he began to roll them up to his elbows as he eyed the boatman. You are the right man. You know this to be true.
  8. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    “You’ve assumed everyone is lost, wants to be found, or even wants to be lumped into that category.” No…. not all are lost. I wasn’t. But so many are. Words were quiet as he stared to the southern horizon, the frown lingering. So many are and no one is caring…. no one is helping…. Why did it bother him so much. There was a time he wouldn’t have cared. Peons to be used. That had changed a year ago when one of the nameless, faceless workers of his had been dissected and left in pieces at his doorstep as a warning. That warning had been met with an all out vicious and bloody response. No one would dare cross his borders now and if they did….. they were signing their own death warrants. I offer them haven..... and a chance to feel worth again..... “By working for your business.” He didn’t miss the accusation in the words. It was a fair enough statement when one didn’t know better. Some yes… if they choose so. Others merely live on my lands, working it for their own sustenance alone. That choice is theirs… I just offer a place to escape this world. Tumucumaque National Park, the wild lands he had claimed as his own, were well over nine million acres. There was room for so much more than those he had already taken in. Room for them all to still claim their own haven and feel secluded even from eachother. “Say you did gather up all these wayward and tortured lambs, and your coffee empire is brimming with Outworlders, what’s to keep your wingless fairies and castrated centaurs from being slaughtered if the tidal wave brimming in Ireland comes crashing over you? If they can’t keep from being tortured, how will they defend themselves when the devil finally comes to their door again?” Let them COME… The venom in the tone dripped of palpable malice as the elf turned to face the man, cerulean glistening with the charge of heated power. There was a churn on the water's surface as seaweed billowed from far below the boat cresting into the light, erupting past its surface to shower the boat in drops of crystalline water as the wove together in intricate patterns, nearly boxing them in before they went limp and fell back into the waters. It was rare for the elf to lose control of himself, but the very thought that they would dare to bring the fight to his lands tripped palpable anger. Blue fell away from the stranger, as though ashamed of the display of fury, but the shoulders never slouched as he stared to the horizon once more, adjusting to the halted motion of the boat beneath his feet. “Maybe they should instead learn how to kill their attackers with a kitchen knife. If they’ve lost the ability to live openly, then they need to learn how to take it back.” The eyes were far quieter, control once again part of the more regal presence. I help them tap into what they think they have lost. They have spent so much time hiding they have suffocated what they were born with. Power blossoms where one feels safe, yet challenged. This world is not so dead as they often believe. Enalari was a good example of that. Her fae abilities were nearly nonexistent when he found her cowering from the world. Now she was a fae force to be reckoned with. “Waiting for coordinates of a recent freighter wreck in the lane, really don’t want to drag the hull,” The elf merely nodded. Accepting the statement as truth but as he turned to look at the boatman a brow lifted at the bitter expression. Had he hit a nerve? Perhaps the boatman also had not found the skill to tap into this alien world. His words of safety resonated with the elf. That is what he felt as well. They needed to learn how to be brave again, to quell their fears. "I've been flying blind out here for ten years after being ripped from a world of shores, I am still not afraid." Which is why I approach you. The fearful cannot be led, cannot be helped…. by the fearful. Breath was deep as he felt the mists of the waters on his cheek, hip resting against the rail. Shores. The boatman came from a world of waters, that is what called him. Nature. The word was softly spoken. Mine was a world of mountains and streams…lush green that shot trees hundreds of feet into the sky. It was a rare confession..... of home.
  9. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    Weight swayed almost undetectably with the waves under the boat, the silence lingering as he breathed the fresher air. The further from the smog and concrete of the city the more he felt himself, the more he could breathe. As the boatman knotted his hair up the elf thought nothing of it. His own often in intricate webbings of plaits. The plainness of the human males a concept foreign to him. The throttle of the boat shifted his gaze out to the open waters, dismissing the concrete jungle he despised. "I have no kin here." The elf was quiet at this. The cerulean gaze thoughtful as it watched the waters slap up in challenge of the movement of the vessel. It wasn’t often he was overly serious, but this endeavor, what it might mean, what he might risk for it; this he took seriously. Something in the weight of the boatman's presence told him he did as well. “I hate New Jersey, for the record. It reeks of machines and bent nature. The water groans.” Nostrils flared at the salty air with a nod before turning to sideglance at the man. I loathe all things this way. The stench of what the humans have made, of what they are so proud of, it offends the world they don’t even notice. The "arrogant" elf sounded pained. The land cried this far north and he felt he was the only one that heard it. Wind snapped the ebony silk around his shoulders. And you are wrong…..in this world that never wanted us…… we are the only kin we have….. Words were quiet as the gaze shifted again to the waters, the elegant brows dipping softly, expression distant. Lost single souls that have none but eachother. He had looked. He didn’t know why he had, no one from that world had ever done anything for him, yet he had looked just the same….. but thus far there had been none from his world but him. And it was a story he heard again and again from those he had taken into his care. They had looked, only to find none. They belonged to none anymore. That made them kin. “North, I would have more to show you but I’m not sure if I like you or your business yet, so New Jersey will have to do.” A faint grin slid over the melancholy expression as he glanced back at the boatman. And if you came down to Camopi, I could show you more…..and just what my business is. Hand slid over the snapping locks, deft fingers quickly plaiting the cascade to his hips, intricate knot at the bottom keeping it together without a band. Turning he rested a hip on the side as he looked at the man. The ghost of a frown was again over his brow as the head shook. I have in my lands… fairies that had their wings ripped off….. elves whose ears have been sliced apart…. in one of my coffee fields…. a centaur works who was castrated by those…..filthy … humans…. The disgust was palpable, as was the passion behind it. For all his arrogant elven playboy nature, this he cared very deeply about. These were his "kin"….. and he was looking for a better way to protect them. I offer them haven..... and a chance to feel worth again.....
  10. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    Elongated appendages tipped and pivoted like bat radar as he listened beyond the walls of the vessel he was currently entombed in. True to his word it seemed the boatman was looking to get rid of the snoop above. Unless he was signaling the guy in a non verbal way about the elf's presence it seemed the boatman was true to his word. The stranger was looking to "hire" the boat as well. If his little snitch was right, this was all a trap to try and expose the boatman as someone that was interfering in the outworlder backlash in Ireland and Europe. Brow quirked as the man "sold out" another boater. Now that was interesting. His Intel didn’t mention any Joe or John working a route to Ireland. Brow quirked as the form came trotting down into the belly of the beast, the shoes discarded, a habit the elf had as well, he loathed the things. But somehow he doubted his boatman was doing it to get comfortable. The brow furled as he was ordered to stay like some common human. But whatever protest was about to spew from his lips was swallowed as the form slid out a small window and vanished. No splash. Now the elf was intrigued. Walking to the small portal he glanced out in time to catch a faint shadow in the water. So the man had gone down into the water. No splash meant the water liked him. A water elemental perhaps? A male water sprite? He wasn’t familiar with any but he had met all types of strange fae and sprites from worlds not his own. Interesting. He moved in the cabin, arms folded behind his back as eyes trailed over the nautical décor. He preferred his home hewn out of nature and the mountain, but he could see the appeal of this vessel over the damn steel and concrete jungle outside the walls. Ebony curtain slid around his shoulder when he instinctively turned as the wet boatman started coming back through the window quietly. “I’ll drop you off up the coast. If you leave now, everything you’ve asked for is compromised, and they'll probably try to kill me. Sorry for the inconvenience,” Down the coast…. if you don’t mind. I have no desire to go further north when everything I seek is south. The elf didn’t seem surprised that they would move without letting him off the boat. And clearly he wasn’t protesting it either. He had a suspicion the second visitor might have "disappeared" from the dock. He just had no desire to go further into the human world and north to him always meant humans. Phone was flipped open and a quick text sent to Elanari so she wouldn’t try to come fae-dazzle the boatman, letting her know to head south that they would re-dock some ways down to not attract attention. The gentle list of the boat was easily adapted to as the phone was slid away once more, his weight swaying naturally as the arms remained folded behind his back. As the boat pulled out of the dock, he was content to sit in the silence for now. “Well Mr. Caranthir, where to?” The boat had stopped and the elf lifted a brow up at the man. He didn’t know much about this coast line. Where was that spot the iron elf had mentioned could be a pick up point for their shipments?..... Ocean City wasn’t it? Something like two hour drive from the city so likely less than an hour by boat. Feet made their way up from the cabin to join the man, ebony instantly catching on the wind to ethereally float on the ocean drifts. I would say Camopi but I don’t think that is practical at the moment. The drop point for his shipments was on the Oyapock River on the Brazil border. Likely a few days travel. While he wanted to talk to the man a while and plan, he didn’t have days to spare either. Ocean City I believe is not too far from here? Ears fluttered back with the wind, eyes on the land, hint of a frown at the distant concrete structures before turning to look at the boatman. Give us a chance to talk about helping our kin survive this world….
  11. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    He was being assessed. The cerulean gaze retaining their icy indifference as he studied the boatman in return. “I don’t smuggle, labor or goods, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m truly sorry if any passengers I’ve ferried led you to believe that. I’m not sure what could have given them that impression.” It is neither labor nor goods I seek you to handle. Nor is it smuggling. Eyes watched the ease with which the knife was utilized. A fighter. The elf was also trained but not in such mundane weapons, nor for such vulgar combat as hand to hand. He could strike an arrow through a victim's eye from further than most of these humans could see. “If you need workers, why don’t you just advertise for them and a fair wage. I’m sure people need work and would be willing to travel to assist you. I’d be happy to transport if they need it. From Ireland, New York… anywhere.” There was the faintest crinkle at the corner of ageless eyes, betraying a frown. Oh yes…. of course… why had I not thought of such a thing…. and that way they can be more easily slaughtered as they answer the ad? A stray ribbon of ebony silk was pushed back to wind behind the elongated ear as the pupils flushed in the watery abyss of vibrant irises .. As I said… I am not looking for a smuggler…. I need a rescuer. He froze, head turning slightly, the ears rotating back as he turned back to the man, words overlapping as the other seemed to already have taken notice. “You might" …you have… "want to stay here," ..company… "Outworlder,” Brow quirked as the man made his way out. So he noticed such things so easily. He was the right man. The head of Narwa needed such an outworlder to take on the burden of ferrying the others to safety. Someone that could protect them as it was the elf's experience that so many of them had not figured out how to be "powerful" in this world, living in fear and hiding. He found they were miserable at protecting their own lives. "I’ll get rid of him.” Head inclined in thanks, the elegant gesture betraying a royal lineage that he had built for himself. “Mr. Stevens,” Ears dipped, the eyes narrowing as he slid the phone from his pocket. He loathed the thing but found it a necessary evil at times. Flicking it open he pressed the speed dial for Enaleri. I' lunt adan na-or i adan o vedui aur. Ho lothron baur dambeth, ben gweri- ho na- ú- na n- telyg. Cheb-tir. ((The boatman is above with the man from yesterday. He may need rescue, or betray he is not to be trusted. Keep watch.)) Phone snapped shut as sensitive ears listened beyond the walls of the vessel. The encounter would be telling. It was very possible the elf himself could be in danger if the outworlder had sold out to the Vanguard. It was a risk he was willing to take. The need was far too great.
  12. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    “Are you following up for Mr. Stevens from yesterday?” Ebony brow quirked elegantly upward. Mr Stevens? Most assuredly not. And I would recommend caution if this was the individual that came in the late noon hour yesterday. My contact advised there was a good chance he was a Vanguard representative. It was becoming apparent the elf was no disconnected "outworlder". He waited patiently until the hazel eyes glanced back to him before offering to talk inside. Cerulean eyes did not watch the plank come down but rather the water between the boat and the dock. Something had caught attentive eyes and ears, brow quirking upward once more before letting the gaze drift back up to the boatman. Interesting. Beckoned over, the leather shoes covered the distance in just a couple strides. Hands gently clasped behind his back as he waited for the man to raise the plank, then followed him below deck. Nostrils flared at a familiar scent. His higher end line of coffee beans were percolating on the air. The harvests off his lands had distinctly rich smells and were not found elsewhere in the world that he had found. Cerulean slid over the dark woods, appreciating their exotic grain before pausing on the blades. They didn’t all have the look of weaponry made on this world. All things said the boatman was outworlder. “I don’t have free time, Mr. Caranthir. I ship things, that is my time. I picked this coffee up on a trip to South America. Wanted to see if I could actually make the trip, had a few friends that wanted to go, had some things to trade, it looked interesting. Ended up keeping it for myself… that happens sometimes. Want anything to drink, eat? I have an amazing coconut water I picked up south, Kilbeggan I picked up in Galway. Not a fan of the Kilbeggan. Anything from the Isles smells like turpentine to me.” The elf listened in silence as he took the offered seat, the eyes lightly trailing over details others missed. One's surroundings said much about the owner. “I would say then… I’m a trader of sorts. People want things, I go get them. People want to go somewhere, I take them there while delivering other things. I have a few regular routes, but mostly go where the business is. Not sure how that could be helpful to you since I'm not large enough for mass freight, but I do go where most won't, which has it's interesting applications.” Ears had dipped a little as he listened to every word. Long breath pulled at the end of the speech before the elf finally spoke. Not looking for mass freight. That I already have. Far too "visible" for the task at hand. Crystalline gaze watched the hands work the old coffee brew press. It was a much better way to create the drink than those infernal machines the earthborn were married to. The coffee you are brewing comes from my lands. I recognize its scent easily… and your "friends" now all work for me. It was why they "wanted to go" to the southern continent in the first place. It was one of them that let me know of your…. work. Head tilted as the eyes finally settled on the boatman with an unnervingly direct gaze. I am looking for someone to regularly bring more "friends" to the southern continent… specifically from the Ireland region at the moment. It hung in the air ominously. Such an expedition, particularly on a regular basis, would definitely put the one ferrying in danger. The elf was asking a lot of this "business proposition".
  13. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    The vaguely confused expression didn’t vanish, only punctuated with a faint frown as the amused smirk was not missed. Clearly there was something the elf didn’t understand as the boatman clothed himself. The nod towards the dark bumpers didn’t really clear anything up for the head of NARWA as he quirked a brow at the man. “What can I do for you.. Mr..?” …Caranthir. While the soft accent could be mistaken for many things when he normally spoke, when his own name crossed his lips the lyrical heritage that belonged only to those not of this world was betrayed…. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say was proudly on display. Cerulean watched the exchange between boatmen. Was this really the one he was looking for? Seemed so…. amiable… with these earthians. If not for the clearly unearthly writing that had been on the skin of the man, he would have serious doubts the man was outworlder at all. As it was…… Muireadach is it? The name was in the file, the lyrical pronunciation however was all his own. It had a cadence and syllable percussion like elven names, rolling easily. I have a long term business proposition for you. Head tilted slightly studying the man. One I believe you will be interested in because I have reason to believe you are already doing what I would be asking for in your free time. It was a subtle hint but yet not so subtle. The elf clearly had not gotten his information from a business deal. The original source had actually been an outworlder that this boatman had supposedly rescued. There was either truth to the story, or this man had no clue and would be a useless sell out like so many outworlders the elf had come across… groveling at the feet of the more populous of the planet. Perhaps we can talk inside? He was not risking the outside world knowing what he was doing even before it had begun.
  14. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    Nostrils huffed as the ears tuned into the surroundings. Eyes were caressing over the concrete structures that dotted the harbor and across the bay. He loathed the cold indifference of these things the earthborn seemed to treasure. There was no life in the homes they built themselves. Their cities were "dead" things. Eyes returned to the ship, ears continuing to hone in on the soft lap of water and the first breach of its surface. For all his pomp and circumstance the elf was a patient creature. He had spent a lifetime waiting for his turn to rule, to step out of the squalor he had been born into. It had taught him infinite patience…… most of the time. The drip of water off skin tilted the ears faintly down under the dark curtain. Crystalline gaze drug over skin as the man emerged over the edge of the dock. The pale ink caught the attentive eyes, tracing over the muscles as the patterns were instantly recognized as exotic writing, a fact likely lost on the ignorant earthborn. This was his boatman….. he was sure of it. “Kicking tires?” Lips parted only to close with a genuine puzzled expression. Head tilted as eyes glanced around the area looking for something before cerulean orbs came back to the man, ebony brow lifting. There are no tires….. and why would I kick it if there was one here? The simple question exposed the elf as an outworlder. He did business with the world abroad but he secluded himself in South America with other stranded races. The nuances of earth expression were lost on him unless shared by the Iron elf that ran his ore division. He came in contact with the earthborn far more than the head of NARWA. As if on cue the billow of morning breeze caught the ebony silk that hung down his shoulders, exposing the elongated ears that curled back along his skull.
  15. Durion Caranthir

    Birth of the Underground Network

    Normally he would have travelled via Eris. Woman had an air vehicle that was better suited to his status in this world. But she was an outsider and this entire endeavor was strictly for his own kind. He trusted her with his business, not his people. No earthborn could be trusted with his own. As it was he frowned at the small prop planes ragged interior as it bounced in for a less than smooth landing at the deserted Republic airport out in Long Island. It was a strip the veil crosser pilot used to stay undetected. The kid was not talkative which was something the elf appreciated, but he wasn’t the best pilot, which the elf found annoying. npc: Thanks for…. The elf half lifted his hand in dismissal of the thanks as he trotted down the two steps that fell open on the side of the plane. Lights ahead turned on to show where the car was sitting. Finally, some luxury…. thank goodness. Sliding into the leather backseat he pulled the door shut as Enaleri put the sleek Lincoln Towncar into drive, the folder passed over her shoulder to him. npc: Looks like the one we are looking for is currently docked in the harbor making repairs to his boat. Mmmm He flipped through the sparse number of pictures of the man. Didn’t look like an Outworlder but looks could be deceiving. The friendly fae at the wheel was used to his curt behavior as she continued. npc: ….looks like we are not the only ones trying to find him either. Our Crea contact thinks the ones inquiring about him may be hostile. Earthborn parasites likely…. Npc: Perhaps….. The sun was just beginning to dust the sky with dawns light as the towncar pulled in along the main dock of the harbor. npc: He might not want to be a part of it you know Durion. Her words held a humor in them as she put the car in park. The idea that anyone said no to the head of NARWA was an absurdity. Even she as a fae was drawn to the flame. More important than his charisma however, he actually protected their own, something she had seen the council didn’t seem to actually care about doing. Smirk lit his lips as he tossed the file onto the seat next to him and slid out of the car door, slamming it shut without another word. Hands slid into the pocket of the elegant Armani slacks as he strode down the dock that held the bobbing boat he had seen in the pictures at the end. The gray tone of the fashionwear beautifully framing the lavender button down underneath the blazer. It was actually a bit tamer than his usual fair, his ebony hair hung loose to flutter down at his hips as the morning breeze picked up. Cerulean orbs traced the lines of the vessel before the Ferragamo leather toe reaching out to lightly tap on the hull, "knocking" to see if the boatman was home.


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