Orre

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Orre /ôr-rā/ "This is important and scientific, no matter what it looks like." What with his mate Tkil's archaeology hobby and Orre's own studies, it's safe to say that they have some of the most fascinating dinner table conversations. Even if his job is a bit, well, unconventional, Orre's still very devoted to his work. Maybe it's not for everyone, spending most days in a massive underground lab, with multi-story tanks and enclosures raising dangerous monsters for study, but the data gathered from operations such as this is invaluable to the scientific community of Sornieth, and, dare he say, to everyone. Those fish tanks aren't just to add ambiance- no, those are Wartoad tadpoles and Crystal Pools turtle hatchlings- and those creatures living on the surface are also boss monsters of all varieties. After all, if you're looking to study the Shade, it's best to find creatures that are nearly always found possessed by it. Orre and the rest of his research team hope to not only determine why the boss monsters are primary targets for the Shade, but also how to detect and even reverse Shade possession. He and his assistant Grisson, a Sprangyroo who had been Shade-touched as well, are looking ahead to what they hope to accomplish: a world in which no creature would have to suffer as a vessel of the ancient evil the Arcanist released into the world. It could be hard to reconcile Orre's scientific pursuits with Tkil's more culturally inclined historical studies, but in fact Orre appreciates having someone to help him analyze his questions from a new angle. Tkil actually knows a great deal about Shade possession, so when Orre's team discovered that even domesticated pigs can regress into Boars within a few generations, she quickly came in to add her evidence that this phenomenon is a modern development and there was no records of such a thing occurring until midway through the Third Age. Whether this means the Shade is growing in strength, and using its incredible magic to mess with the genetic code of animals, is still up for debate, but that's why Orre feels his studies are more relevant than ever. If staying late nights and long days in his lab means he and his team can banish the Shade once and for all- that's worth it to him. As long as Tkil comes to visit him, that'd be Orre's idea of a perfect life. Role Nickname Gender Mate Familiar Name Researcher Orry Male Tkil Charcoal Sprangyroo Grisson Likes Dislikes Hobby Leading Questioning Orre's hobby is the same as his job: studying the Shade and a possible method to detect it. Molten Tadpole Meat Molten Wartoad spawning grounds are easy to spot; look for pools of water surrounded by steam. 450 17 Grouse Basilisk Field Notes Dragonmade Someone was very dedicated. 22 Pulsing Relic Trinkets When submerged in warm water, this relic begins to thrum with faint power. It would take a lot of them to power anything worthwhile. 51

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A story involving Orre. Possible spookiness warning.

It's funny, he hadn't even realized the music stopped. Orre supposed it was because he was so focused on his working, of the repetitive, lulling motions of entering the day's lab results into the database. So focused that he decided to stay after hours, after even his assistant Grisson had left, saying he'd close up after finishing the last dozen entries. He was listening to movie soundtracks, as he often did, to pass the time and to stave off the unnerving silence of the empty lab. But now it was silent, dark except for the low glow of the overhead lights and the warm yellow lamp at his workstation. Orre guessed he must have reached the end of the playlist, so he pulled up the screen with his music player when something caught his attention.
Ever get that feeling that someone's watching you? That extra-sensory tingle of awareness that something's off?
He felt it. Big time. Even after he restarted the music, it was still too quiet. And once he focused on the feeling of unease, it was inescapable. There's nothing there, he told himself. Don't worry. But he couldn't help but start obsessing over how the small circle of light he was sitting in left much to be desired in illuminating the room and how the tanks on the far wall, full of sleeping frogs, rays, turtles, and whales, were so dark that he could see nothing of their contents. He loved the tanks. Loved working with the animals and being able to visit them while he was at his desk doing data entry. Loved his job. But now it was silent- the fans of his computer, the music he was listening to, the low hum of the servers in the back room, were nothing, nothing- and dark, so dark, and the animals were sleeping and this was the last entry but he couldn't stand it, how many floors underground was he again? How hard would it be to leave?
Why did he love studying the Shade so much again?
His heart pounding, Orre's thoughts raced through the records again. A few of the whales and rays had showed signs of infection, of possession, but no outward changes as it was still early on. They were making progress, these were almost fully grown and still not a threat- He glanced at the papers on the desk in front of him.
He stopped reading. Orchid, he thought. What a stupid name. How could you name a creature that's that much of a threat such a cutesy name? A threat? What was he thinking? He loved Orchid, fed her extra Ruby Tetras when the rest of his team weren't looking, she even let the Tundra pat her on the head-
Something was getting into him. He was on edge, that's all. The fans and the darkness and the blank faces of the tanks staring at him and it was late and stories of dirt was above him, trapping him, he would never make it out if he didn't leave now, but he couldn't leave the animals, he wouldn't, he cared about them, no, they were a threat. A danger. A risk. He can't leave them here, not without--
Was that a creaking sound he heard?
This deep underground, it couldn't have been the building settling. Couldn't have been wind from outside. He was the only one here. Except for the tanks...
The tanks. He didn't want to look, but his eyes were drawn there anyway. And in the darkness, something moved. Orre shoved his chair back and, swallowing his fear, got up to look at the tanks. Upon closer inspection, it appeared all the animals weren't asleep. One of the whales was awake, swimming around the tank while the others were still in the corner. He reached out and touched the reinforced glass. It was Orchid! She pressed her head against the glass where Orre was leaning. Now he felt silly for worrying. Of course that's all it was.
But that feeling wasn't gone. And to his horror, Orchid had taken her eyes off of him, instead staring intently in the corner and going still. Somehow it was lighter in that corner, though none of the lamps were on. It must be one of the Mantarunes.
Whatever it was, it was coming towards them. Yes, he was right. It was a ray, but it didn't look friendly. Its barbed tail was raised high, and without warning it dove towards Orchid, barely missing the young Deeprealm Hunter's head.
"GET AWAY!" he yelled at the attacker, and he began hurrying to the side door leading to the tank access. He'd have to tranquilize the Mantarune, he had to protect Orchid-
Orchid had stopped moving. There seemed to be a gathering darkness around her, coalescing around her body like a shield, suddenly forming a thousand daggers that flew at the ray and found purchase in between its stony plates. Even in the relative darkness, Orre could sense the dim fear that crossed the Mantarune's mind and was snuffed out as quickly as it came. He froze, wanting to run in all directions at once. This was what they had trained for, he knew what to do, he had to leave, to escape, before it came for him too-
And the Shadestuff that had come from Orchid did come for him. It looked at him with pleading eyes that weren't eyes at all, spoke to him in a voice that sounded like the empty static of radio silence. And it was fast, of course it was, but it didn't know the way out and Orre did. He flew towards the elevator and pulled the alarm though he knew no one would come for him at this hour. But the darkness, the Shade, was around him, and he moved as if he were in a dream. The Tundra held his breath. He wasn't going to let it take him. All he had to do was get in the elevator, and there were weapons there that he could use to fight it.
The doors opened and Orre leapt inside. The darkness still enveloped him and he knew he would have to breathe soon, but if he did he would become Shade-touched too. There was one weapon hanging on the wall. Plasma cannon, standard Lightning issue. They all knew this gun like the back of their hand. In one motion, Orre slammed the "door close" button and grabbed the plasma cannon off the wall. It ran off of Lightning magic, he knew, and Shadestuff feeds off of magic. Firing the cannon would do no good against something without physical form, and though he'd hate being unarmed in a situation like this, it was the only chance he had. Slamming the "door close" button, he waited until the last second to throw the plasma cannon into the lab.
But it was enough. The eyes that weren't followed the arc of the weapon through the air, and when the gun cracked and cyan light began bleeding out of it, the fragment of Shade left Orre to investigate.
The doors closed and the elevator took off towards the surface. Now he was far enough from Orchid that he was safe. And so was she, come to think of it. The Shade would likely retreat now that all the perceived threats were gone and hopefully she would go back to sleep.
There was the sound of a distant explosion, and the Tundra sighed. Another thing to add to the incident report- that was the plasma cannon detonating, probably because he'd thrown it so hard- and how long was the report now? A dozen forms, at least: Shade possession of creature, it had influenced his thoughts, making him paranoid and fearful, that Mantarune was either possessed or dead now, yikes, it had attacked him, it had manifested outside of its host, and he wrecked some of their expensive lab equipment with the whole "throw the gun" distraction. The worst part is that he was the only witness, so all the reports were his responsibility.
Arcanist's eyebrows. Paperwork. As if he hadn't suffered enough.