Silverthorne (Kennith Ingram)
Character Sheet and Background.

AwakeningKennith rolled across the floor and turned back to see the vault door slowly swing closed. His eyes grew wide with terror. "Al..? Al! NOO-" his scream was cut short by the closing door. His heart leapt in his throat as darkness was cast over him. He immediately fell all of reality closing and squeezing him.

As the vault door was swinging closed, and Kennith's call reached her ears, Al screamed loudly and scrambled up to dart to him and stop it's closure, but was caught by the robber and held captive. She lifted her legs, kicked, and fought frantically against him. "Kennith!" she screamed loud enough to hurt ears, and struggled for the life of her. "Get him out! You can't shut him in there!" she shrieked desperately.

Inside the vault, Kennith's breathing became laboured; the very illusion of being sealed up is enough to make it hard to draw breath. He ran at the door and pounded on the steel, yelling for Al. He fell back, his fists hurting and he choked. Soon he's lying on the floor and succumbing to the pressing darkness.

The next thing Kennith knew, he was aware of stale air, and he raised his hands to reach out, only to hit them against hard wood or some other material, just a few inches above him. "Fuh-?" he panicked, flailing around and finding that he's was in a small box, muffled and surely buried. He clawed and scrambled fruitlessly for a moment, but then stopped. He shook with anger and fear, and his adrenaline built up.

Then, a sense of calm suddenly swept over him, and he stopped struggling. For a great, wonderful moment of clarity, he sew the ground above him, the mass and the weight, and thought 'Just...get off, ok?' He reached up and his hands pressed the wood in, dirt spilling a little. He moved his fingers around in the material, yielding like clay.

He pushed and dived up into the matter, and swam, climbed, or moved, whichever, his way up through the dirt, rock, and precious metal. He emerged from the ground, and saw himself in a gray, mute world - dark and overcast.

Kennith felt so at peace and composed. He took a slow breath and found his gaze drawn in a single direction. He started walking, feeling his soul drawn. He noted beings, shades, walking along with him. And he pondered over everything. The journey seemed to take forever, but that was ok. More time to think and work things out. He was glad for this.

Outside, Al cursed and turned herself on the robber with a sudden animalistic ferocity. She turned around and climbed on him, punching, clawing, and hurting with surprising strength. She soon succeeded in incapacitating him, leaving him unconscious with various injuries on the floor.

Hold on a second.

Kennith spotted something interesting. A glint of silver that stood out. He walked over, and found a small flower growing out of a particular thick vein of silver. He knelt down, and discovered a thistle, made of pure silver. He caressed it, and wondered 'This is perfect.' It was an uncanny marriage of his two passions of science. He admired the sharp thorns bundled on top. They seemed to have no perceivable point, as if their sharpness was a single atom.

He pinched the flower's stem and it came off the stalk easily. He picked up the flower and continued walking, admiring the perfection. The next thing he noticed, he was before a massive spire of dark, heavy looking metal. Kennith went limp in its awe and slowly stepped up to its entrance. He found stone guardians crossing torches before the doorway. He just shook his head and motioned aside. They bent and moved out of his way. He walked in.

There he found a great, metal table. He noticed unreadable runes and characters signed across the vast platform. He smiled, looking for a clear spot, and found one nearby, further toward the centre. He stepped up onto the table and walked over to the space in the markings, knelt down, and, pausing to look at his flower, smiled and started drawing his finger into the tungsten slab.

At this point, Kennith stood up, stepped off the table, and felt a great personal connection to this place. He looked around, and felt everything going dark. "Thank you." he said, looking at his flower. He was going to bring this back with him. It remained the only thing he could see in the blackness, before it too went out like a white candle flame.

"Kennith!" Al cried, pounding on the vault door back in the fallen world. She struggles against the vault handle, her cheeks wet with tears. Suddenly, a man comes up behind her places his hands on hers and helps open the massive vault door.

Al spilled into the vault, "Keh-" she began, but stops short, shocked by the sight that greeted her. The vault was mutilated from the inside. Steel locker doors and miniature safes were all smeared and looked like they were made of putty, finger lines and fistfuls left imprinted in them. They were hard and solid once again, the walls and the floor even had footprints in it. All of the room looked like it was completely malleable and buttery under the influence of fingers and feet. "Kennith..?" she whispered. Her eyes fell on her friend, standing with his back turned toward them, in the far corner. He looked calm and his hands were grasped calmly behind him.

On the steel table in the middle of the room, there were footprints and runes carved into the surface from what looked like a finger.

The man, seemingly unfazed by the marks all across the room, moved towards Kennith, "So, What did you see?" He asked him.

Kennith turned his head and looked calmly at the other two. He had a distant look in his eyes. He turned around, and his vision trailed off to the side... “I saw...a great thorn, reaching from a realm of rock and gold...and..” He looked down at his pinched fingers, no longer holding the thistle. “Silver..” he finished.