Mortal, Female, 27 (9/12/90)
Residence: New York, NY United States
Employer: Stardust Initiative
Function: Hacker, Programmer, and Field Agent
The following information would be easily accessible information.
Eda has the potential of turning heads, but not for some level of excessive beauty or the lack thereof. On the offset, her hair is an unremarkable jet black, eyes a dark brown, and she's not the most beautiful. She certainly could be considered pretty and has probably had several men over the years take notice... but combined with the scars on her face and scattered about her dark skin, it's unlikely she'd be selected to act as the cover of Playboy any time soon.
Another good guess would be the tattoo engraved onto her back. At the center of the marking is a dark green radio tower with reception bars at the top. To the left of that, a black angelic wing and, to the right, a red demonic wing. Radiating from all parts of the tower are a seemingly endless aura of binary 1's and 0's. This tattoo, however, is also not the culprit as it is often covered by shirts or jackets.
One might assume that what turns heads is her body...and perhaps there's truth to that. She's athletic and probably has enough curves to turn the head of many men or women who prefer lovers of the female persuasion. But that alone isn't what is likely to turn heads. So what is it?
More than likely, it's the way she carries herself. Her smile, the look in her eyes...her voice carrying a near constant weight of sarcasm. A chaotic, impish glint in her gaze and the hint of mischief on her smirk. Many might find a degree of danger to her. Is she crazy? Just wild or an adrenaline junkie? Perhaps it's a mish mash of personality, appearance, and any number of weird fetishes a person might be harboring. Whatever the case... she just has the sort of air that echoes a train wreck or draws people to watch shows starring murdering psychopaths.
Eda appears to have two faces on the internet. The first is what most would find. Old posts of a now long abandoned Facebook account. Born and raised in Angus, Maine with a bachelors in computer science from Plymouth University. A brother and sister living their lives and still trying to move past their grief. An obituary for her parents and herself. Outside of the Secret World, Eda Demir is missing and presumed dead. Within the secret world, however, is a different story. Her social media and internet presence now hides behind firewalls, filters, and need to know protections. A guise of existence only visible by those inducted into the big secret and handed their own golden ticket. And then there's Angus, Maine. A town now lost to history. The stories of chemical spills and a horrible example of corporate negligence in fact all a cloak to conceal reality. Falsified deaths and cover-ups. Whispers that more was going down in that town.
It's highly unlikely you will find this information easily without hearing it from Eda herself or digging VERY deep into what little is available online.
Eda Demir was the second child of Karim and Samiya Demir, Turkish immigrants who moved to Angus, Maine in 1976. The family was primarily supported by the father, Karim, who ran and operated his own psychiatric clinic in the small town; helped in large part by the fact he also ran the only psychiatric clinic in town. The two parents pushed their children hard to succeed and, while there were very few instances where it was outright said, the expectation their children would go into something tangentially related to medicine was pretty much a constant presence. Psychology, psychiatry, medicine, biological chemistry, even veterinary care was acceptable.
This made Eda something of a black sheep. From an early age, Eda had absolutely no interest in what her parents wanted for her. Bleeding edge technology was always what drew her in, which was pretty much a consistent source of friction in the family for her. This, of course, eventually led her to rebel against her parents, act out, and become known in the town as something of a trouble maker. Eda had psychological issues early on, but, ironically, her psychiatrist father couldn't see past his own desires for his daughter and instead put the blame on her own decisions and actions.
None of that is to say the family hated her. Despite everything, the family was very tightly knit. While her parents refused to help pay for her college tuition in computer science (due to it not being what they wanted for her), they still allowed her to move back in with them when she had trouble finding work after graduation and even called in a favor to get her a decent paying job at the town's computer repair shop. Eda lived alone with her parents in the town for several years before shit hit the fan. When it did, the only silver lining was that her sister and brother were nowhere near the town when everything went down. And that she didn't have to tell them what she did to survive.
The following is information accessible through the Council of Venice
Incident Report #: AN-279-921-01
Primary Responding Faction(s): Illuminati, Council of Venice
Estimated Start Date: April 1, 2014
Extraction Start Date: March 27, 2015
Extraction End Date: February 21, 2017
Town Clean Sweep Date: March 1st, 2017
Estimated Effected: ~1,000
Estimated Limited/No Affect Individuals: ~250
Survivor Distribution in order of amount:
Note: Ten survivors fell through the cracks after extraction. Five are now known to be affiliated with Dragon. Remaining are assumed to also be Dragon, taken by a third party, or dead.
Cause of Incident: Assumed to be a magical artifact of unknown origins. Clean sweep of town has failed to recover any artifacts. Survivor accounts suggest artifact generated some type of wave of energy which was accompanied by some type of instrument. It is unclear what kind of instrument due to psychological damage from the artifact and probable PTSD in 98% of survivors. Investigations are ongoing.
Current Cover Story: Combination of a chemical spill as well as individualized cases for a large number of dead residents ranging from going god crazy and cutting themselves off from their family to car accidents. Illuminati are handling the majority of cover ups due to their presumed connections to the American government. Cover up completion is estimated at 92% complete.
Full Description: On April 1st of 2014 (estimated based on survivor accounts), a device of unknown origins was activated. The town was undergoing preparations for a yearly BBQ festival and, due to the date it occurred and possibly the initial affects of the artifact, it was assumed to be a prank. 14 days after initial incident, symptoms of insanity began to show itself on residents, leading to calls to the CDC. CDC quarantine began 20 days after initial incident. Illuminati caught wind of what was happening and took over full armed containment of town 23 days after initial incident. It is believed the majority of the town fell into complete madness approximately 31 days after initial incident. Other factions were denied access to the town due to the Illuminati's overwhelming presence; their containment of the town was already guaranteed and any additional faction intrusion would only cause strife on the ground.
Those affected by the unknown artifact, as mentioned, completely lost their minds. Most commonly observed ailments were loss of grip on reality, violent tendencies, schizophrenia, mass hysteria, lessening of survival instinct, etc. Specific observations can be found in AN-279-921-02. Those spared from the insanity or at the very least were not as affected by the insanity either grouped together or, in rare cases, worked alone in order to survive. Those who worked alone generally acted as merchants, trading supplies between the primary hold outs. While the town started with eight hold outs, the ever decreasing population of survivors eventually whittled it down to four. City Hall, Police HQ, Spanky's Boardwalk, and the Lighthouse.
Quarantine was maintained due to unknown cause of madness and uncertainty if it was infectious. Confirmation of strongholds and their sane state led to supply drops when available beginning three months before initial extractions began. The Illuminati began extraction of select individuals confirmed to be of sound mind for off site examination. Confirmation that whatever was going on had no infectious element led to additional extractions, but these extractions were slow due to hostile nature of the area combined with uncertainty of how safe survivors were to extraction teams. Illuminati security teams moved into the town on September 21, 2016 to provide assistance to strongholds once safety of personnel was confirmed. Observation of remaining survivors was conducted and all remaining were cleared for extraction in February of 2017. The town was fully swept clean once the cold weather subsided. The town is currently empty save leftover Illuminati personnel who are currently converting the town into a base camp.
Obviously, this is probably only going to be viewable by Illuminati members.
Internal Addendum Reference: CoV_AN-279-921-01
Number of Bees Recruited: 3
Cause of the Incident: The artifact has been identified as the Horn of Dionysus, a possible third age instrument stolen from an Illuminati stronghold in 1930 by Harold West, an Illuminati traitor. It is believed he stashed the horn in the basement of a bar in Angus with hopes of selling it to the Phoenicians. However, he left the town with plans of meeting his Phoenician contact and had a heart attack on the drive out, resulting in a car wreck which ended his life and led to the location of the horn being lost. It remained in the basement undisturbed until 2014 when it is believed someone blew into the horn not realizing what it was. According to legend, the horn was created by Dionysus who tricked the leader of a city who refused to honor him to blow it; only those faithful to the god of madness and wine were spared. The horn is currently being held in [REDACTED] and undergoing close examination.
Note: While the reasoning the Council of Venice gave as to our gradual extraction of survivors is accurate on all accounts, a far greater reason for the gradual extraction was to expand the length of time our agents on the ground had to observe the horn's effects on both those fully exposed and those only partially. As a result of this examination, we have a better understanding of what the horn does to those exposed and how to halt the degeneration of the brain once exposed. We also now have reason to believe that there is a possibility that a portion of those that hear voices as a consequence of the horn are literally hearing voices. Their ears and/or minds are somehow now able to pierce the veil and perceive sounds that they should otherwise be entirely incapable of hearing. It is worth noting, however, that one of our field agents who was discovered as a result of this incident that has been within the vicinity of Filth did not hear the whispers most commonly associated with Filth infection. Instead, she reported hearing what could be best described as static. Any personnel confirmed to have this ability should be immediately reported if they claim the Filth is whispering to them as this is a consequence of Filth infection, NOT exposure to the horn.
Our wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see.
TRANSMIT - angry gods and angry minds - RECEIVE - initiate detangling of tied tongues - FOCUS ON THE REAL - nothing is real - HOLD FAST TO HUMANITY - the empty smiling husks - RETAIN THE INDIVIDUAL - you are not unique - WITNESS - The Horn of Dionysus
The years are not kind to the tales of old. Humans have a horrible knack of misrepresenting history, especially the history which defies their understanding. Threads of one tale intertwine with another, monkey brains filling in gaps and inventing gods where there are none. Consolidate your sources, they say. Listen to many tongues, read the mad scribbling of those who call themselves experts and perhaps a glimmer of the truth will sink through the cracks. But what, dear sweetling, do you do when those tongues and scribbles are as hopeless as a long abandoned ball of Christmas lights?
It is long before your father's father's midlife crisis. These were the years of your forefathers, of magnificent machines and devices. It was the Greeks who remembered this tale more than others, the ripples of the madness echoing in bed time stories told to children as a reminder to respect the gods and their demands. Perhaps the old context was lost, but the gnashing of teeth and howling of the empty eyed hung fast to the quiet terror. Dionysus, a god modern man has seen fit to portray as fat, drunk, and decadent, was not one to meddle with according to the tales the hipster in the local library cares not to read. Come, sweetling. Open your ears to what they remembered.
INITIATE WARPING OF SPACE AND TIME.
A city lost to memory, ruins long since abandoned and reduced to sand between your toes. It was a pillar of its day, housing everything a booming city needs to prosper: industry, agriculture, art, theater, old men past their prime arguing of war and politics. Perhaps it was inevitable such a sight would collapse in on itself. A miniature age within an age. Those within thought themselves indestructible and beyond reproach. When the new king rose to power, it was clear he had forgotten the gods that ensured their safety. A protection racket sans suits and ties. We did not exist in these stories by name, but, sweetling, do not think we sat idly by and watched the naked emperor without action. Alas, it was of no use. It came crumbling down.
Warning! War instigated!
Warning! Trade routes opened!
Warning! Priorities forgotten!
Where has their output gone, sweetling? Why do they not produce enough for the war effort? Why do their tradesman not meet the demands of an increasingly greedy leader? The men of influence sought the answer. Perhaps it was a sickness in their veins, or maybe their hearts were not inspired. Blame was shifted, accusations made.
Initiate Footloose Ban.
Warning! No Kevin Bacon detected!
Festivities halt, the wine stops flowing. Prohibition does not work, sweetling, this is a mistake we have seen you make countless times. But it makes leisure dangerous and underground. Moods fell with morale tied to it. The god of wine took notice and was displeased. He watched his worshipers pulled from their merriment, the barrels of his lifeblood lie dormant. Enough was enough, his people must dance.
Initiate Kevin Bacon simulation.
His acolytes pleaded with the ruler to change his mind. They based their arguments on logic, they based it on emotion, a few tried blackmail and were granted a swift death. The preacher wasn't going to change his mind, they were not going to get Footloose. The proper channels failed.
Danger! Simulation failure!
Initiate Plan B.
The faithful moved their efforts underground. Into dark dens and gloomy barns. Dionysus' ire was sated but not quelled. Productivity remained low, but reality remained beyond the ruling class' grasp. Still blame fell on those who were wild and not working. A crack down began, the prisons swelled. Ever a lover of music, the hypocrite on high watched his city with a collection of horns of wild design. It was with these he signaled to the guard if a party were to catch his eye; the horn's sound alerting all that the law was about to crack down.
Critical error! Warnings not taken!
Warning! Frustration at critical mass!
Sweetling, do you know what else the god of wine was known for? Madness. It was with this he would teach the city which abandoned him the price of their ignorance. A deal was struck, a horn was made, a box was delivered, a gift discovered. How could their king resist such a temptation? A massive horn of immense complexity. He held onto it for a rainy day, intending to blow once a party was seen. Meanwhile, the acolytes were hard at work. Word was spread, laws be damned. The time had come, all must repent. Party and be gay, make love and make noise. The god would be watching, and those who did not comply would pay.
Trap completion: 100%.
Risk of failure: acceptable.
Begin the horror show.
The city burst to life that night, fires lit and bodies swayed among and against each other. Of course their overlords saw the burst of life in the city below. The accursed horn was lifted and pushed against pressed lips.
Warning: Artifact unleashed. Side effects may include all of the above. Consult your doctor before use.
The festivities were cut short by sword tip and spilled blood. It was too late, the clock was ticking. It spread through the homes, the floors, the trees. Music with no sound, a beat with no rhythm. Quiet screams began the rending of minds and brains. The festive were spared, the sounds of drunken pleasures banishing the horrible noise. The rest, however, were not so lucky.
Initiate time lapse.
Warning: Forty Eight Hours Remaining
A sun rises. Some begin hearing voices, some act more cold and selfish. Look into a mirror, sweetling. Where you see yourself, they saw monsters or an endless void. Their leader pronounces himself god, glassy eyed followers reach up to touch his magnificence. Those spared make preparations to flee, others bunker down and brace for the worst. The sun sets, a city's infrastructure reduced to shambles.
Warning: Twenty Four Hours Remaining
A sun rises. Few of the afflicted are still themselves. Civilization hangs by a thread. Sacrifices to the false god are made. Mothers killing daughters, sons killing fathers. Not even the animals at the city's borders are spared, their own familiar structures struck down and cannibalized. Survivors flee the city, a god's wrath immortalized in their confused, traumatized minds. A sun sets, a city reduced to ruins before it is uninhabited. What was left, dear sweetling? A mad king on a now meaningless throne. Death was slow, a grown man unable to fend for himself.
404 Error! Critical error! The horn is lost and sent to the non-existent corners of the earth! WMD not found.
We do not know where it has gone, sweetling, but it has been used. A new age, a new opportunity to make the same mistakes. There is no god of wine to fool anyone. The wheels are in motion. Humanity will blow the horn of madness willingly. Beware what was lost is not made whole, sweetling.
We cannot save you from everything.
Obvious Illuminati exclusive content is obvious.
Interview Date: March 2nd, 2015
Interviewer: Tanner, Sam
Interviewee: Demir, Eda
Tanner: Hello, Ms. Demir.
Demir: Aw, come on! Why be so proper? Call me Eda.
Demir: Uuuugh. Fiiine.
Tanner: So, Ms. Demir. We got your...resume, as you can clearly tell.
Demir: Did you really have to knock me out AND put a bag over my head?
Demir: Little overkill, isn't it?
Tanner: No. Now, tell me, how did you access our equipment?
Demir: You guys have a zero day bug.
Demir: Yeah. Idiots that think 'password' qualifies as a good default password on a wifi enabled coffee maker.
Tanner: Are you telling me you accessed our equipment through a-
Demir: Yup! You guys are a tough nut to crack, you know that? It took me, like, six months to finally crack all of stuff. In the end...it was the coffee maker that was your demise.
Tanner: How did you access our servers through a coffee maker, Ms. Demir?
Demir: Easy. The coffee maker was automatically connecting to the old wifi built into that office building you guys fortified. Once I had access to the coffee maker, I implanted a virus that would steal the network password for the super secret secure password protected network if anyone connected to the coffee maker's Bluetooth...which did eventually happen. Was smooth sailing from there.
Tanner: How long ago was that?
Demir: Two months.
Tanner: Why...did it take you two months to reach out to us, exactly?
Demir: 'cause I wanted to know who I was reaching out to! I wanted to monitor the monitors. See who was sealing the town off from the rest of the world. Maybe figure out what was going on. I joked around with myself that it was totally Illuminati confirmed...go figure, turns out it was.
Tanner: What do you know exactly?
Demir: Enough to know I wasn't getting out of that hell hole any time soon unless I backed the right horse.
Tanner: And you think we are the horse worth backing then?
Demir: I saw the messages from your dudes on the ground talking about the other possibilities...choices were archaic snobs, crazy Asians, and toothless morons that you're using to keep the other assholes from getting too close.
Tanner: And you consider what you found reliable?
Demir: No. It's just a LITTLE bit biased? I used your stuff to sneak into the other dudes' stuff on site. The uh...Council or whatever. But even then, most of what I got is from your guys and of course they're going to think everyone else sucks. Beggars can't be choosers.
Tanner: We prefer not hiring people that don't have...incentive to join. From the sounds of it, you don't even want to join us.
Demir: I don't. I don't want to join any of you. But I don't really have a choice, do I? Getting out of this town is incentive enough and I have to back someone. Surprise, the Illuminati are the ones I have the most faith in given what I've got.
Tanner: Faith to do what?
Demir: Deliver. Actually get shit done. I dunno, I have a pretty non-existent view of whatever crazy world I've just walked into here.
Tanner: Hmn. Well. You are certainly qualified...could use training, of course, but you are most definitely showing potential. I do, however, want to ensure you realize that joining us is a one way street.
Demir: You can't quit the Illuminati once you're one of them? NOOOOO! I would have never guessed! Let's be real here, Tanner. I poked the bear with a giant stick. You guys are going to hire me or kill me and I knew that when I made you aware of my intrusion. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't expect I could turn back after the fact.
Tanner: You are correct in your assumption.
Demir: At least you're honest.
Tanner: Why lie? I'd say all of the cards are on the table at this point.
Demir: The cards you're willing to show me, anyway.
Demir: Well, so long as you guys keep me entertained and blowing physical and digital shit up? Consider me interested.
Tanner: I'll contact my superiors to send the necessary paperwork. Ms. Demir, they will most likely expect you to undergo some therapy.
Demir: Hahaha! Therapy? What for? I'm fiiine.
Tanner: ...Ms. Demir, our records indicate you were living with your parents.
Tanner: Where are they exactly?
Demir: I told you. I don't need therapy.
Tanner: They aren't in any of the strongholds, are they?
Demir: Drop it, Tanner.
Tanner: Where are we going to find their bodies, Ms. Demir--
Demir: I SAID DROP IT YOU LITTLE BITCH!
Tanner: ...as I said. You will be undergoing therapy. Any questions, Ms. Demir?
Tanner: Good. Interview terminated at 0900.
Her Business Card
Quick ways to get to roleplay with me:
Want to make a character from Angus?:
Awesome! I'm glad you like the concept enough to work with it! Send me a message in game or on Discord (I'm on both Secret World Roleplay discords under the name McSpazz) and express interest. I'll help make sure everything's smoothed out and makes sense with what went on in the town.
...also, if you'd like to pretty this page up, please do. I don't know much about formatting on the wiki here. >.>;
Eda appears to have two faces on the internet. The first is what most would find. Old posts of a now long abandoned Facebook account. Born and raised in Angus, Maine with a bachelors in computer science from Plymouth University. A brother and sister living their lives and still trying to move past their grief. An obituary for her parents and herself. Outside of the Secret World, Eda Demir is missing and presumed dead. Within the secret world, however, is a different story. Her social media and internet presence now hides behind firewalls, filters, and need to know protections. A guise of existence only visible by those inducted into the big secret and handed their own golden ticket.