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Alias: Strife/Goldfish
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FITZ KREINER

Earthlings

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Oct 15 2014, 09:50 PM
//Metropolis, Southside (Suicide Slums) - late evening//

For several hours, Fitz Kreiner was just another easily overlooked lump of clothing; another drunk or dumped body, nothing out of the ordinary for a crime-filled slum. Even if anyone -had- noticed, they'd more than likely pretended that they didn't notice, the illusion of not-knowing preserved the tenuous peace that existed between the bouts of violence that permeated Southside. But as the evening wore on, Fitz began the steep and painful ascent towards consciousness. The taste in his mouth was the first thing he noticed. His mouth felt stuck together, cottony, and tasting metallic. Opening his eyes brought a shock of light and pain. His head throbbed and felt to be made of candyfloss. For a while, he decided that being unconscious had been preferable. In the end, the pounding in his head and the chill in the air did more to bring him around than actual desire to wake up.

One hand crept up over his chest...the spidering motion that automatically inched it's way towards his pack of cigarettes. But his fingers only found the cotton of his undershirt. His leather jacket was gone and with it his smokes, his lighter. Adrenaline dumped into his body. Frantically, his long fingers reached into his pocket of his jeans. His fingers closed around cool metal and he gave a sound of relief. The key was still there...his keys and it seemed nothing else. His wallet with his cash, long gone. It was only then that he realised that he didn't know where he was or how he'd even gotten there.

"Where'm I?" he grumbled to no one, staring disconsolately at a tipped garbage bin. It provided no answer, for which he supposed he should be grateful for, really. He clambered to his feet. At least he still had his trainers. He wouldn't want to walk around this gutter without them. He must've been jumped...he -felt- like he'd been jumped. Jump and dump. Hit his head, lost his memory. Great, sometimes there were things about the Doctor that he had no real intention of wanting to emulate. He rubbed a knuckle against his eyes, down his scruff of beard and then up through is hair. He felt like hammered hell. With a slump-shouldered shuffle that only a zombie would be envious of, Fitz exited the dead-end ally and began a circuitous route, attempting to glue together the ends of his last memory he could recall - being on Earth, Chicago wasn't it? Or New York? Or maybe somewhere in Kansas, not in Kansas anymore Toto! - and ending up here. It was somewhere American, anyway. Wasn't it?

Fitz sighed. He hadn't a clue. Best time to go get some, he thought to himself.

//Metropolis, - day//

By the time that dawn broke, Fitz was feeling more like himself. Himself when he was hungry and dying for a smoke but himself none the less. He still had no idea where he was. He'd crossed the border between the slum and the cleaner parts of the city, heading towards downtown. Maybe he could get his hands on a newspaper. Or just ask someone, yeah that would work. Walking down the pavement, he paused to turn to some of the people as they walked by, all crisp suits and business skirts. "Excuse me, but I don't suppose you could tell me where I am? I got a bit lost, you see..."

A man with a side part gave him a strange look. At first Fitz thought he was going to ignore him but he changed his mind at the last minute, affixing Fitz with a blank expression. "You're downtown. I think you might be looking to go south." The fellow pointed with his briefcase back the way he'd just come from.

Fitz blinked owlishly. "I just came that way. Downtown where? What city am I in? New York?"

"Try Metropolis." The man frowned at him. "Are you okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah fine. Just a little banged up, nothing to worry much about. M'fine."

"Got into a fight? Well, good luck." He sounded as if he wanted to extricate from the conversation at full speed but didn't want to appear rude.

"Wait! Where's Metropolis?" But the man was already disappearing into the crowd. Fitz dropped a hand down to his side again. Well, at least he had somewhere to start with, at any rate. He turned back and started walking towards the larger buildings in downtown. He needed some money and some food. And to find a largish blue cabinet.

The city was bright and rather clean on this end, a busy place full of busy people doing their normal commute. He turned a corner, the tall buildings on either side seeming to loom down over him. There was something going on at the other end of the block. Gravitating towards it because he was essentially a nosey parker, he made his way through the crowd of onlookers and straight up to the front of the line. There was some kind of accident. Chunks of masonry and concrete had crushed some of the parked cars on the road.

Ducking closer to get a better look, Fitz found himself suddenly attacked. A whirl of brown hair and vehement yelling caught him completely unaware. Backpeddling rapidly with his hands up to cover his face, the crowd that had been crushing his heels backed away to let the woman have at him. Confused, Fitz tried to figure out what she was so angry at him for. She kept repeatedly yelling something that didn't even make sense to Fitz. Was it a name? Zod? Who the hell was Zod? What was a Zod?

"Hey, okay look we can talk this out. Just, not me face! AHHH! Hey! I'm not...OW!" Fitz tripped backwards. Unrelenting, the woman tacked him straight to the ground. Someday he was going to wake up (not in an alley having been robbed blind), look back at this moment and laugh. But not until the raging harpy that was assaulting him had pried herself loose and he was well shot of this entire place with a cup of tea in one hand and a cup of Scotch in the other.
Aug 11 2014, 09:21 PM
Hey everyone,

I'll be less active 13th-15th, probably AFK for the most part! I'll be back soon though = )

~Strife

-Fitz
-Balthier
-Denovia
Aug 5 2014, 12:02 PM

Just to get the day off on the wrong foot, Fitz was again running for his life. Normally, (and that in itself said something about the kind of life that he led), -normally- when he was running away from something or someone, he at least had an inkling about who or what it was. This wasn't -always- the case. When it was some monster or alien creature, it could be easily forgiven. But this was personal, or at least felt like he was. But he was getting ahead of himself, he thought. If this was going to be a proper internal narrative (cum last will and testament), then he should try to get in as many details as he could before he unceremoniously cark'd it under a rain of hellfire from an unknown source.

So there he was, just that morning, turned out on an errand for the Doctor. It involved playing messenger boy to some Chicago gangsters. Fitz took the opportunity to dress the part, donned in a long trench coat and fedora he'd dug out of the TARDIS closet. He'd done the drop off just like they do in the films, going to the location, putting the thing in the drainpipe and then heading off looking not a bit shifty. Not at all. He'd ignored the feeling that everyone's eyes were watching him, likening it less to paranoia and more to a desire to be on the telly, be the cool spy man like his persona of Fortwilliam.

It had come something as a surprise when a strafing spray of bullets etched the brickwork above him, clanking off of trash cans and fire escapes, smashing the windows on the first floor of the apartment building. Instantly, Fitz ducked his head, imagining a smoking hole right through his hat. His next instinct was to run. Clearly, gangsters were after him! The chase was on! Booking it down the alley, Fitz splashed through puddles of mire, herded by bullets.

It wasn't until a rocket blew out the car across the street, narrowly missing him that he realised that something wasn't quite right. There was no way that some random mob guys had a rocket launcher. Or maybe it was a grenade? He couldn't tell. Something that made a -huge- bloody explosion bloom, knocking the car off of its wheels. Skittering to a stop and swearing in sheer terror, Fitz's wild eyes searched for a way to escape his assailant.

'What the hell had been in that package!' he thought, amidst the chatter of more gunfire.

Which just about brought him back to the present - panic, wondering what was in the bloody box he'd stuck in the drainpipe to cause him to be a wanted man, and flailing because no-where looked safe. The smells of Chicago on fire had caused a small group of people on the street to start screaming. Soon, the crowds had picked up that there was some kind of attack going on and begun to panic in earnest.

"I got to get out of here!" he said aloud, heading off at a random direction, a maelstrom of bullets at his heels. All he could think of to do was run for the TARDIS and hope that whomever was firing at him was a recent graduate of the Storm Trooper academy.

Jul 18 2014, 05:52 PM


Cwas Memorium:
Section the First

>>>Scanning local parameters...
>>>Languages detected...
>>>>Translating....
>>>Running adaptation matrix...




>The planet Skeortrun (formerly Cwas, the Crystal-body World)
>Solar system & placement: 4th planet in the Numeria system
>Galaxy: Hoag's Object (the Annulus)
>Sun: Lirac, class F8 Morgan-Keenan system, OE
>Moon(s): none

>Population: just over 15,00 Intellectuals (Intels) as of the turn of the 42nd century Annual Count
>Largest population density: Halcyon city, capitol of Brinith sector
>Ruling Body: Intellicus Impetus


Our world was bright and prosperous, a shining beacon to many other Annulian cultures. We touched the stars in the Annulus with our prowess, flitting between the other worlds to trade and bring our way of living to those less fortunate, helping to elevate them to our standards so they might stand with us.

That was before Falldown. We of the Intellecus Impetus hope that this repository will find those as fortunate as we once were who may look kindly on our plight and lend us assistance to help us return to our rightful ascension. For those others of the Annulus have turned their backs on us, rushing to fill the gaps our people left, abandoning us to our own cataclysm. Our calls for help from those we once knew have fallen on deaf ears. So we strike out farther with the last remaining artifacts of our technological innovation.

This ark carries our most brilliant accomplishments: our arts, our scientific breakthroughs, and our philosophies. If we cannot gather the proper outside assistance, we fear the worst. It is our slim hope that this entreaty will find the right hands – and if it is too late, we implore you to save and cherish this Memorium so we might never be forgotten. It is our fervent desire that in our achievements we might live on through other noble scholars of the universe.

Syri ,
Historian
Lead Antiquarian of the Intellicus Impetus
Creator of the Cwas Memoriam

////50 years before the Memorium was released////


Ardav read the new wording on the culling proclamation with unmitigated distaste. In iz opinion, the population counts for the Lowsens had been skewed down for at least a decade to quell fearful panic in the City. The bald truth was that Lowsens numbers continued to swell, a vast and exponential scourge despite the Purge restrictions placed in early 41st century. Nearly every five years after, the restrictions had been thus adapted by the Impetus to try to keep the numbers in check. The problem continued unabated. This new edict thought to control the population's water supply, which was not a new route. Resources were not given to the Lowsens without them working for them. As many Lowsens continued to burden the City instead of offering productive labour, their resources were mostly scavaged from the Limits, the blasted remains of the Falldown world where no Intel would dare to go. With a grimace, he placed iz three fingered hand onto the edict, showing he was in favour of attempting chemical population control methods for the Lowsens, with the stipulation that the chemicals involved would be easy to remove from the water supply for the Intels. Their population numbers were fragile enough without adding such complications.

////Falltown - Now////



Kry stared up at the sky-high walls of the City, er eyes watering in the bright. Many people had tried to scale the walls only to fall to their deaths. Slick and shining under Daystar, er feel-knowing was that the hot-feel walls were only the first part. Stories sayed that atop that wall was another wall. Then another after, like the Ring. That once the City had floated like water-makers. But that was long ago, before the Falldown. Kry knew-felt that there were different walls in different places, some thin like a body or thick as the town.

Falltown needed medicine for the Sick that came. Er had made it in and out before. So Kry knew er would have to try. What Er needed was the City-people to look the other way. They didn't like looking down so er hoped they would miss er again this time. Tracing er path back to er last success, er ran er fingers across the cracks. Kry's people lived between them. They knew them best. Er slipped within the first City walls, pulling er City-stole cloak over er.

////The 8th Doctor's TARDIS - Now////


Fitz sat cross-legged on the floor of a room that might once been a concert-room. Now it was largely empty except for himself, the amp and his guitar but the acoustics were gorgeous. Imagining himself with the hall filled by anticipating crowd-goers, Fitz began to strum the guitar, his calloused fingers catching on the strings. When his voice joined in, he didn't worry so much over the right words. He'd done that before, filing notebooks with his handwriting only to scratch them out the next day. Today he was going to try to take all of that and let go. Let it Be, as the Beatles would say. Fitz let himself be, the music washing through the room and filling it with sounds, his perception of floating about time and space striking out in every empty space between the notes. Slowly and unintentionally, Fitz's music interwove with the TARDIS's internal environment as much as the breathable air and sensation of gravity.

Eventually, the TARDIS would leave the Vortex...for whatever reason or the Doctor's guidance. Until then, at least in his little imprompdu concert hall, Fitz Fortune was a rock star.
Jul 3 2014, 11:18 PM
Hello = )

I'm Strife - aka Goldfish (Flying Goldfish, Fishie)

I play Fitz Kreiner and Balthier!

I'm a gamer. I started with table top games - Call of Cthulhu, then World of Darkness (Mage the Ascension and Changeling) and D&D as well as other games too. I like lots of genres, really - I'll do pastiche and high fantasy, adventures and horror, creature-feature, cyberpunk, pirates-in-space, post-modern...

What else? I like to read, I'm a fan of the Giants baseball team and I like to paint abstract paintings, do photography and make stuff. I like to mess about with Corel = ) I love Science Fiction and some Fantasy and love reading in general.

I'm sort of shy actually - I know it seems odd, but it's true. I don't like sharing lots of personal information. But having said that I don't mind people saying 'hi' to me and I like chatting about fun topics and of course writing up cool stories. I quite like that. I'm less keen about sharing lots of stuff at once, so sort of thread is just...erm...like a preface to a conversation that we cave have, so I can get to know you better, haha.

~Strife
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THE 8TH DOCTOR

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