People of Port Ashborne

[soulstream-npc]

jonathan-preston:

His thoughts stayed with Norah when he was certain it would all end, and even as the flames crawled impossibly fast towards him, the Lieutenant didn’t close his eyes to brace for the end. He was standing tall and staring at them. John didn’t even blink and there was a figure shielding him from the fire. Few things truly were surprising for a man like him, but the sudden appearance of the imposing stranger definitely was. “I am. Thank you” he managed to let the words out, his pragmatic side taking over again after the moment of shock to make him stay focused and ready to act even if he had no understanding whatsoever of what had just happened. Normally, the Lieutenant wouldn’t just hand out his gun. But John had always been a perceptive one and with time he’d only become better and better at reading others. He could see in the stranger someone that carried himself with a similar authority and discipline that he did himself. Someone willing to help and someone John could trust for this. Without wasting another second, he slipped his gun out of its holster and gave it to the man. 

“Thank you.” He takes the pistol in his palm. A sliver pale, silver light forms in his hand, wrapping the piece of cold metal. “I cannot keep you safe and exorcise it at the same time. So I imbued the bullet with my power. I will stop it for a moment... and I trust you can take a shot?” He hands back the gun, before turning his attention fully back to the spirit they are facing. It lets out another ungodly scream. No intelligible word can be heard, but its meaning is quite clear-- bottomless curse and rancor. The cobalt flame, as if it were capable of sympathizing with the phantom, burns brighter than ever. “...what a pitiful soul.” The man sighs quietly, his whisper echoing like a prayer of a monk. “If this universe allows you another life... may you find your anchor.”  The flame rises like a tidal wave, flooding the street. This time, he raises his arm. From his palm, another silver light glimmers. It spreads in the air like a drop of paint in the water. It blocks the surge of flame from reaching them. “Now.” He looks back over his shoulder, signaling John to take a shot.

[soulstream-npc]

jonathan-preston:

In the midst of all that darkness he perceived the creature more clearly, a being that wasn’t of this world. Its screeching sounds were piercing the night and bringing dread to the Lieutenant in a way he didn’t recall ever feeling. But fear doesn’t freeze him, not after the dreadful things he’s seen humans commit against humans. Jonathan Preston is determined to get out this place alive, if anything because there’s a little girl waiting to see her father when she wakes up in the morning. But in mere seconds flames are thrown his way and it seems like hellfire is rising from the ground towards him to engulf him whole.

The flame advances toward the Lieutenant, hissing and twisting like it had its own life. But between a sliver of time, another shadow steps in between the azure fire and John. Except that this time, it has an actual body-- and a voice that whispers, “Don’t worry. You will see your daughter again.” A giant is the term suited for the man standing like a mountain. He stamps his foot in such might and strength, it feels as if the ground roared. A burst of life-force deflects the march of flame, leaving ugly scorch marks on the ground but him and John unharmed. “Are you alright?” the man asks. His eyes never leave the spirit, but his hand reaches backward to John. “I need your help to vanish it... so could I borrow your gun for a second? I promise I won’t use it.” He pleads politely, but there is a tempered command in his baritone. 

[soulstream-npc]

jonathan-preston:

It was all blackness around him, not a sliver of light could seem to filter through it. His eyes tried to adjust to that darkness. Nothing at all could be seen. His gun in its holster, stapped to his belt but the Lieutenant made no attempt to reach for it. He had a feeling bullets could do nothing against this. His mind immediately went back to the 2016 Blackout of New Year’s Eve, he remembered the foreign presence in the sky. He couldn’t really see it but he had sensed it. Since then his perception of these strange things had sharpened but it wasn’t sharp enough to be able to tell right now just what was in front of him.

John squatted down to touch the ground, his palm pressed to the concrete. His Psychometry could reveal to him what his eyes couldn’t see. A myriad of images played out in his mind, rushing in and ending in meres second, showing him people and things that had moved over this very street today, yesterday, a week ago, months ago. All he needed was what was here right now. Perceiving through his power allowed him to get a clearer image of the being, the entity, that was just meters away from him. It was sheer darkness leaving behind subtle sparks of fire.

He stood up again, perceiving as some hazy image the creature moving towards him. John knew what it looked like now, but he didn’t know how on Earth he could face something like that if it were to attack him.

The growl grows louder as it advances. It speaks no words but the malice in the noises is clear. It is obviously in pain, even without a form, even without life. And it doesn’t have any other way to express its anguish but through anger, the desire to hurt others. It raises its finger-- or what’s left of it, and points at its next victim. The Phantom lets out a beastly howl, the kind of scream that carves primal fear into one’s soul. It sets itself ablaze in unnatural blue, bright enough to light up the entire street. The flame, it extends its tongue like a great serpent, scorching everything in its way. 

[soulstream-npc]

jonathan-preston:

A call from Commissioner Norton got him out of bed. A crime scene, of course. A rather gruesome one, he found once the Lieutenant got there. All in all his unit worked the scene quickly but there would be plenty of work to do at the precinct when day came. John left the scene and made his way back home when the lights of the street flickered and died. It was all left in complete darkness. He remained composed even as he noticed there was someone else out there. He had no reason to think he was in danger. Not yet.

When the shadow engulfs the streets, the night turns itself into something foreign. The darkness speaks to the primal fear in human minds. There is no light, no sound to measure distance or direction. The air feels suddenly heavy and hot, almost tropical. But nothing is as peculiar as the strange figure.  Whenever it takes a step forward, its leg-- if you could call it a leg, repeats crumbling down like it was made out of sands and then growing back to take the next step. It glows in the dark, leaving what looks like fire sparks. It has no face, but grotesquely twisted skin and two empty holes where eyes could have been. It had no mouth but it moans and grunts. And it slowly but surely approaches the only person on the street.

[soulstream-npc]

The streets after midnight are completely deserted. There is not even one or two drunkards stumbling back home. With the moon hiding behind clouds, streetlamps are the only light. Just as the air begins to feel as if it shivers, a slender figure appears at the end of the road. The lights flicker violently before the darkness deepens in the street.

[soulstream-rp]

ISHMAEL CANNAN | UNKNOWN | TUNER | “ETERNAL”

DATE & PLACE OF BIRTH: Unknown OCCUPATION: Professor of history at City University of Port Ashborne SEXUALITY: Graysexual FC: Idris Elba NPC

BACKGROUND

Tuners may be one of the most powerful beings to walk the earth, sure, but they are not immortal. Their mortal bodies are very much killable. Even their valiant souls perish, sometimes consumed by a phantom, sometimes the countless years of weathering simply make them dissipate. Ishmael, however, is the very antithesis of the oblivion. Not only he is one of the first Tuners to serve the Soulstream, his vessel never faced death. He was once an idealist with his mortal enemy, death. Humans had so much potential, yet so little time. Before they could achieve greatness and unlock their endless possibility, the death reaped their lives. This timeless tragedy repeating itself was unbearable to him. He needed to conquer death. Alas, he was a human with limits and finite time on earth. What he needed to do was to get the time on his side, and he didn’t just sit around and wait for the opportunity to come. He sought out a way to join the ranks of Tuners, to continue his search for immortality of humanity.

He created a spell to contact with the Will of the Soulstream, to strike a deal with it. The spell worked, and for a brief moment, he accessed one of the deepest part of the Flow. While it could easily have driven an ordinary man insane, Ishmael was nothing but extraordinary. He absorbed the flow of information and managed to survive. The process made him a Tuner. When his soul was awakened, its True Name was kindled as well. It anchored him on time, making his vessel almost ageless. While his fellow Tuners repeated the reincarnation and weathered the centuries, Ishmael remained the unchanging. He watched the kingdoms rose and fell, the worst and the best of humanity, yet his resolve never wavered. In every failure of human nature, he saw the hope of improvement. Because humans can change, humans can grow, never did he give up on humans. In his eyes, the only impediment was the seemingly undefeatable death.

Throughout his countless years, Ishmael devoted himself in saving human lives. He knew it would only delay the inevitable, but he refused to succumb to apathy. He did what he can to keep the death at bay, as far he could reach while his quest for immortality never ceased. He traveled from the one end of the earth to another, seeking any means to deliver the human race from the death. Centuries turned his journey into a legend, and the incomparable experience made him an unofficial leader among Tuners. Recently, the sudden increase of phantoms in the States drew his attention. Ishmael gathered his peers to the city named Port Ashborne to seek out the root of cause, and to protect the innocent lives.

FAMILY: N/A

CONNECTIONS: 

Tracy Monahan (acquaintance): The Oracle has been something of a consistency in his endless life. He met her several times, in different incarnations. He generally distrusts her and finds her to be too intrusive. He keeps his distance from her.

Raymond Ryu (friend): The Tuner of Agape is an old friend, though their vessels changed over the time. Ishmael may not understand Raymond and his indecisiveness, but respects the man nonetheless, 

PERSONALITY

For someone who lived countless years, Ishmael continues to be disciplined. He is incredibly patient. Not only does he stop on his way to help others, he seeks out those who need his hand. It doesn’t matter how long it takes since time is on his side. But at the end of the day, he will return to his own journey for the deliverance of humanity. His best quality is his unbreakable conviction. It is impossible to bend his will. After all, he walked the same path for over millennia and not once did he stray. However, it is questionable whether he is capable of caring for the souls he helps. He saves lives because they need saving rather than because of his compassion. His faith in humanity persists, but to someone, his behavior may appear mechanical and perfunctory. Time to time you can catch a glimpse of emptiness in his eyes gazing afar. Perhaps the eternity has worn down his emotion. This does not stop him from saving others. He does not need such a feeble thing as emotions to know that every soul is worth saving.  

SKILLS:

In terms of physical capacity, Ishmael is average at best compared to other Tuners. However, his spiritual sense is extraordinary. Together with his insights honed over millennia, he is far superior at reading into one’s soul and analyzing them.

His ability reflects his True Name of eternity, and anchored him from the flow of time. A Tuner who does not know death, his vessel has lived for millennia and has not aged since he became a Tuner. He can be harmed and injured, but his body soon fixes itself as if time itself rewinds. He is truly immortal.

Immortality does not mean his memories stay intact forever. As much as he has learned, he has forgotten.

Before he became a Tuner, he was a magician. His branch of magic dealt with time itself, but now it is effectively extinct since Ishmael as the last successor cannot use magic.