Appearance: Short and scaled as most imps are, his dulled horns pierce through a small worn duster far to big for his small head to hold well. The rest of his attire consists of brown overalls and a small teenagers sized short white polo which has been stained by grease and dirt from a year or so of toil. His scales are a bronze or brass hue, almost resentment of the work he did for the inventor who for a majority attempted to create machines and inventions through brass and other metals to create low tech machinery. And of course being an imp, he's hardly taller than a prepubescent teenager.
History: Having been summoned during the winter inside of a moderately sized storage facility by a man known as one who can only be described as by Avarin as "The Inventor". The storage facility was a crude making of a laboratory but sufficed, no one used it anymore and whatever was left behind and metallic is now known as spare parts and scrap. For the year the Imp worked there he was told one rule; "Follow my instructions or become the test pilot!" Which was simple enough to follow, but hardly the life the demon wished to have when his time out of the nether reaches began Over time the Imp found away to turn about the situation, through the very knowledge the tinkerer was using in his creations. He planned to cause an accident, or outright kill the inventor with his own machines and weapons, though this would not be easy. When your locked in a single room for the most part with one being you tend to know when something is going Awry, so the imp couldn't be blunt, this would take finesse.
During the summer around one year or so from his summoning, The Inventor ordered Avarin to inspect the machines and make sure they remain up to snuff. One of these included an engine that gave little to no pollutants off through steam, so being the rats imps are, Avarin inspected it thoroughly, to a point that there was a bit of damage in the piping. When Avarin reported it to The Inventor, he immediately got to work on fixing the problem, all the meanwhile the Imp found the best weapon he could, a blunt wrench which The Inventor held dear. When the Imp Returned, he carefully came behind the Inventor and raised the wrench high, ready to strike down on his head when suddenly steam burst from the pipes onto the Tinkerer's face. With screams of pain and agony the once great man, and somewhat crazy one at that, was now dead from third degree burns. Avarin couldn't have been more happy with his plan for he may as well have been the laughing stock of Ira (Wrath) for he couldn't commit an act of violence even if he wanted to, he would always choke. With the dirty work done he began to make his way out of the wretched shop when he got a fiendish idea, one of greed, which was a sin he was very familiar with. With all of these worthwhile inventions, trinkets and weapons now left to Avarin, what else could he do with them but sell them on any local market for double their worth to the common lout? In his mind, nothing, and so he now resides in a shack you may as well have though to be in a bazaar along side the streets of Wing City, selling his inventions until he has no more left, or until he gambles it all away like a fool. Refusing to give others his true name in fear that he may be hunted down by any customer, for some of the inventions caused more harm then good, and being an imp, there was no reason to sue him when you could kick him half-way across the city. He calls himself 'Gadgetson', fitting for what he sells and creates on a daily basis so he could receive whatever ill gotten gains came his way.
Vices: Filled with greed. Cowardly and physically weak. Frequently lies.
Virtues: Opportunistic. As ill tempered as he may sound when defending his stock, he is rather laid back outside of business. Resourceful.
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Avarin Vous 'Gadgetson'
An Imp summoned by a grand inventor to aid him in his quest for science who was released of his bonds due to the tinkerer's death. "I got the best stock you'll find all 'round!'
0 · 119 views · located in 
Main Street
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by TheTimePolice2
Description
So begins...
Avarin Vous 'Gadgetson''s Story
- Seen 17 Times • Page 1 of 1
Down the street, a small gathering of denizens around a shack, no more appropriate than a simple tent in a bizzare. They all looked down at the salesman, a lowly imp with an eye for opportunity. Behind him was a large stash of technology, most of it made of brass and steel. A majority of these items were likely unfinished, or unsafe, but after having only recently obtained his freedom, 'Gadgetson' would do whatever he could to make the quickest buck possible. "You won't find this any other shop, and I have limited stock so gather 'round and take your pick!" The small salesmen called out, expecting to attract more customers. One at a time several left with their new gizmos and mechanisms, some of which displeased to find they spent their money on nothing but scrap metal.
As the crowd slowly started to dwindle, one man who had waited to make his purchase frowned at the Imp, holding his useless item with disdain. "What kind of shit are you trying to pull with this junk!" The man retorted as his face flared red with rage. The imp being oh so brave, held his hands up defensively. "Ya-Y-Y-You gotta be kiddn' me! This is the finest-" But he was cut short as the man swung the hunk of metal at Gadgetson and knocked him back. With that, the man took the money he and many others spent on these contraptions and stammered off. A few passing witnesses chuckled at the sight, knowing he was a lowly thief.
As the crowd slowly started to dwindle, one man who had waited to make his purchase frowned at the Imp, holding his useless item with disdain. "What kind of shit are you trying to pull with this junk!" The man retorted as his face flared red with rage. The imp being oh so brave, held his hands up defensively. "Ya-Y-Y-You gotta be kiddn' me! This is the finest-" But he was cut short as the man swung the hunk of metal at Gadgetson and knocked him back. With that, the man took the money he and many others spent on these contraptions and stammered off. A few passing witnesses chuckled at the sight, knowing he was a lowly thief.
'What is she doing?' he thought. He had moved to the rooftops to get a better vantage point, able to see from more angles. Slowly he sauntered along, staring down at her from his position. It allowed him better eyes on her.
It also gave him better sight for the commotion occurring in the street below. A gathering of citizens, crowding around an imp street merchant selling all kinds of worthless junk; Batman could tell just by looking. One of the customers seemed to be growing angry, stepping into the imp's face. 'Not good,' he thought. Suddenly, the imp was taken out by his own merchandise, stricken across the face and knocked back. The assailant then reached forward and stripped the unconscious merchant of his money.
He fled, running across the street with cash in hand. The crowd opened up with a series of chuckles, amused at the beating and theft of the imp merchant. He wasn't very well liked, that much was apparent. However, Batman couldn't let the man escape after doing something like that. Grappling his way to the rooftops across him, he tailed the man as he ran down the sidewalk. Eventually, he rounded a corner and slowed to a walk, counting his ill-gotten gains.
He was a common cretin; no need to break him unless he provoked the Batman. Slithering down from the rooftop, he dropped, allowing his knees to absorb the shock, padded by the material in his suit. "Give the money back." It was a cold voice, hardened by the willingness to do what was necessary to take back what didn't belong to the thief. "Who the fuck do you think you-"
The criminal was cut off by his own surprise and fear, looking up at the towering demon that stood before him. His mouth hung open, terror paralyzing his movements. "What the....what the fuck are you?" Batman walked forward, glaring down at the lowly wretch. Immediately, the thug found himself relinquished of the stolen money. "Get lost," Batman demanded. In no need to be told twice, the man turned tail and bolted down the street.
From the rooftops once more, Batman was able to observe the situation; the imp had recovered from his thrashing, head aching and spirits dampened. Wrapped in paper, he dropped the money from the roof into the merchant's lap, ensuring to conceal his involvement in the recovery. The imp had best count himself lucky; he wasn't the type to get such help.
It also gave him better sight for the commotion occurring in the street below. A gathering of citizens, crowding around an imp street merchant selling all kinds of worthless junk; Batman could tell just by looking. One of the customers seemed to be growing angry, stepping into the imp's face. 'Not good,' he thought. Suddenly, the imp was taken out by his own merchandise, stricken across the face and knocked back. The assailant then reached forward and stripped the unconscious merchant of his money.
He fled, running across the street with cash in hand. The crowd opened up with a series of chuckles, amused at the beating and theft of the imp merchant. He wasn't very well liked, that much was apparent. However, Batman couldn't let the man escape after doing something like that. Grappling his way to the rooftops across him, he tailed the man as he ran down the sidewalk. Eventually, he rounded a corner and slowed to a walk, counting his ill-gotten gains.
He was a common cretin; no need to break him unless he provoked the Batman. Slithering down from the rooftop, he dropped, allowing his knees to absorb the shock, padded by the material in his suit. "Give the money back." It was a cold voice, hardened by the willingness to do what was necessary to take back what didn't belong to the thief. "Who the fuck do you think you-"
The criminal was cut off by his own surprise and fear, looking up at the towering demon that stood before him. His mouth hung open, terror paralyzing his movements. "What the....what the fuck are you?" Batman walked forward, glaring down at the lowly wretch. Immediately, the thug found himself relinquished of the stolen money. "Get lost," Batman demanded. In no need to be told twice, the man turned tail and bolted down the street.
From the rooftops once more, Batman was able to observe the situation; the imp had recovered from his thrashing, head aching and spirits dampened. Wrapped in paper, he dropped the money from the roof into the merchant's lap, ensuring to conceal his involvement in the recovery. The imp had best count himself lucky; he wasn't the type to get such help.
Once he regained his composure, the Imp was only able to catch a glance as the man ran off. With a heavy sigh, Gadgetson rubbed his bruised and slightly bleeding head, wiping the blood onto his worn overalls. "Sneaky.. Damn Thieves.." He trailed off, muttering slurs in anger that he was again robbed, for this was not the first time he was cast aside. Reaching up, he grabbed the edge of a curtain that hung down from the roof of his shanty-shack. Pulling on it, the curtain blocked all view of his merchandise, and himself. On the front, a sign was nailed through the cloth, reading; "CLOSED." In red paint.
As he began to walk back into 'his' alleyway, he could have sword he felt a piece of hail or stone fall against his duster hat. Looking down, Gadgetson found the rolled up stack of credits, all he had to his name. With no expression but pure confusion, he reached down and hastily placed it back in his pockets. He glanced upwards, unsure of where this came from, but hardly caring seeing that all that mattered was that it was back in his possession. He called out. "Eh.. T-Thanks?" Then he continued on, moving between the alleyways until he saw a woman upon a dumpster.
As he began to walk back into 'his' alleyway, he could have sword he felt a piece of hail or stone fall against his duster hat. Looking down, Gadgetson found the rolled up stack of credits, all he had to his name. With no expression but pure confusion, he reached down and hastily placed it back in his pockets. He glanced upwards, unsure of where this came from, but hardly caring seeing that all that mattered was that it was back in his possession. He called out. "Eh.. T-Thanks?" Then he continued on, moving between the alleyways until he saw a woman upon a dumpster.
She began to tail the criminal. Why? He was of no concern anymore. He was afraid. Good. But she needn't get involved. She chased him down, wanting to give him the punishment he didn't need. He had been corrected, quite well.
Now here she was, threatening to run him down. "Listen lady, I get it. I learned my lesson from that goddamn giant....bat!" He was shaking in his shoes, still in shock from their encounter. Now all Batman had to do was ensure that Terra didn't obliterate him with the concrete she had just ripped from the ground.
His hand dipped to his belt, producing a couple of Batarangs, just in case she needed to be thrown off course.
Now here she was, threatening to run him down. "Listen lady, I get it. I learned my lesson from that goddamn giant....bat!" He was shaking in his shoes, still in shock from their encounter. Now all Batman had to do was ensure that Terra didn't obliterate him with the concrete she had just ripped from the ground.
His hand dipped to his belt, producing a couple of Batarangs, just in case she needed to be thrown off course.
Standing in shock once more, the Imp slowly tried to step his way back to his shack, already having dealt with enough annoyance that day. His clumsiness of course could not allow this, and he fell over a trash bag that was casually sat aside the walls of the building. The clatter of empty cans rang down the long corridor, and the Imp scrambled to his feet. "I-I didn't do nothin' I swear it!" He yelled in defense, expecting the woman to have already turned to face him.
He wore the same clothes he did everyday, a worn outfit with a white polo, brown overalls, and a brown duster hat festooned upon his short horns. For a demon he was very unbecoming of the trade just by his appearance.
He wore the same clothes he did everyday, a worn outfit with a white polo, brown overalls, and a brown duster hat festooned upon his short horns. For a demon he was very unbecoming of the trade just by his appearance.
It was time. She attacked the man, something that was unnecessary. He hurled the Batarangs in her direction, dropping from the rooftops and sauntering toward her, his glare a piercing gaze of anger. "What are you doing here, Terra?" he demanded from her.
He readied himself for an assault. It wasn't very long ago that this girl had been trained by Deathstroke, so she was very capable of fighting off assailants. She was also quite wicked when she needed to be. Still, her appearance was altogether confusing and unsettling. Was she here as a part of Deathstroke's plans, or of her own agenda? Was she here to destroy Wing City? So many questions that only she could answer, should she answer truthfully.
"I won't ask again: What are you doing here, girl?!"
He readied himself for an assault. It wasn't very long ago that this girl had been trained by Deathstroke, so she was very capable of fighting off assailants. She was also quite wicked when she needed to be. Still, her appearance was altogether confusing and unsettling. Was she here as a part of Deathstroke's plans, or of her own agenda? Was she here to destroy Wing City? So many questions that only she could answer, should she answer truthfully.
"I won't ask again: What are you doing here, girl?!"
“
*feels a slight tremor of energy*
”
Aneres Coreveon wasn't dressed as obscurely as she would have liked to believe. The shimmering white kimono-style overlayer embroidered with golden moons down the sleeves, the long-hemmed fringe coming to rest just above the hemline of golden bell-bottoms. Beneath was a plain white top. A golden chain poked out from the collar but the rest of it was tucked beneath the shirt.
There was nothing Aneres could do about the bodyguards who followed her, but she had grown used to that to some degree. At least they let her style them at this point. It made everyone's job easier.
Aneres flicked golden braids to look one way up the street, then the other, then back again. A grunt from one of the bodyguards signaled that it was alright to cross. Halfway across the street she felt a slight tremor of energy. The bodyguards picked up their pace and hurried Aneres across. She didn't protest. They came to stop a stone's throw from a mercedes, a man perched atop the back.
"Did you feel that?" Aneres asked the man, half looking down her nose despite the fact that he was literally seated higher up than where she stood. Her tone wasn't pretentious but there was something about it that dripped with royalty.
There was nothing Aneres could do about the bodyguards who followed her, but she had grown used to that to some degree. At least they let her style them at this point. It made everyone's job easier.
Aneres flicked golden braids to look one way up the street, then the other, then back again. A grunt from one of the bodyguards signaled that it was alright to cross. Halfway across the street she felt a slight tremor of energy. The bodyguards picked up their pace and hurried Aneres across. She didn't protest. They came to stop a stone's throw from a mercedes, a man perched atop the back.
"Did you feel that?" Aneres asked the man, half looking down her nose despite the fact that he was literally seated higher up than where she stood. Her tone wasn't pretentious but there was something about it that dripped with royalty.
"Bristol, very nice to meet you," Aneres extended her own hand and delicately gripped his. She frowned upon hearing that he didn't know what it was either.
"I am Aneres, as I prefer to be called," She regally addressed Bristol with a smile, "Princess of Aurealas. A pleasure to meet you. Is that what brings you here? Looking for the source of the disturbance? I will admit I haven't felt it anywhere else but here."
One of her Over's coughed. She rolled her eyes. They were always concerned she would reveal too much. Aneres had yet to do so.
"I am Aneres, as I prefer to be called," She regally addressed Bristol with a smile, "Princess of Aurealas. A pleasure to meet you. Is that what brings you here? Looking for the source of the disturbance? I will admit I haven't felt it anywhere else but here."
One of her Over's coughed. She rolled her eyes. They were always concerned she would reveal too much. Aneres had yet to do so.
“
Ha. That's my problem too. Where you tryna get to?
”
“
Ha. See you, man. I gotta go somewhere.
”
- Seen 17 Times • Page 1 of 1