Dr Archeville

"Well, sir," Dead Head began as he slung his shovel down and took the photo, "usually only I see an' hear 'em, an' I pass on messages, actin' like an intermediary. Sometimes, though," he continued as he examined the photo, "a spirit can take over mah body, speak directly through me. Buuut, a few times, me simply bein' around sorta amps 'em up enough that they can manifest as a visible, audible specter what anyone can see an' hear. It's complicated, lotsa factors involved, so it's hard to say what'll happen each time. Best results come if I can see & touch th' body, though." An' since I still don't know ya very well, I ain't gonna tell ya that I can animate the corpses, and sometimes put the spirit back in, which either turns 'em into an intelligent zombie like me, or restores 'em truly t'life. Well, that, an' the fact that about half the time I try that, somethin' goes terribly wrong. The strange being closed its eyes and held the photo to its forehead. After a momentary pause, it began to speak again, "he kept this close to him when he was alive, yeah... it's an important place to him... a place he felt at home at... his name was... Herb... no, Herbert... Herbert Son... Sonder... Sondergaard. Herbert Sondergaard. Oh, an' he's got a brother here, a brother he'd missed very much; lots of feelings of loss an' regret. A brother named... Erik."

"Ja, dat fits mit mein hypothesis," Archeville replied, "dat you are absorbing energy around you to fuel your bodily processes. First it vas to supplement vhat you took in from food, but in time your body should adapt to de point vhere you do not need any food, just ambient energies. It is possible your body vill adapt so it does not require sleep -- or, at least, not as much sleep -- and becomes unaffected by de ravages of time." Archeville muttered while he tapped on the screen, zipped over to the scanner and fiddled with the controls, then zipped back and tapped on the screen again. "Vell, mein hypothesis is dat de distortion is due to de energy-absorbing properties of your cells. Dey only take on dis visible manifestation vhen looked at dis closely." A flash of an idea visibly crossed Archeville's face, "Mit training, dough, you should be able to extend und 'tune' your field so dat it varps energy around you, making you invisible to visible light... to radio vaves, to radar... und to sonar, too, perfectly silent by absorbing sonic und vibratory energies!" "I may haff to develop a different vay to examine your cell structures... perhaps a shrink ray of some sort," he said under his breath while looking intently at the monitor. Then he turned back up to Fulcrum, "As for Dark Star und Jack... vell, given deir sensory abilities, I vould be unvise to dismiss vhat dey report, but it does not seem to make sense, as de Terminus consumes, it does not create. It- oh! Oh, of course!" he cried out, "by 'Terminus Energies' dey must mean bits und pieces of universes not quite yet devoured by de Terminus, dat escape out... through you! Dat vould explain any oddities in energy scans, if you are leaking out a... a... a bouillabaisse of different energies!"

As I look over the map, it seems it'd make more sense for this to be in Greenville or maybe Greenbank -- the Fens is three miles from the forest, which doesn't work if they're to meet as Lukos "makes his way barefooted into the city."

And my other question?

Before Avenger & Phantom are fully out of the building, Archeville was thoroughly engrossed in studying the readings and samples he'd gotten from them Just as Avenger finishes asking, for the twenty-third time, when Archeville will call, the phone rings. "Hello, Jack?," Archeville's voice crackled through, "I haff de preliminary results of mein tests. First off: congratulations, you are indeed de father. Second, your baby... vell... it's alive. It's alive... it's ALIVE!"

I need a Notice check, and if she's trying to approach stealthily, I'll need a Stealth check.

After disabling the advanced gravity-manipulating technology that caused the scanner to lead her here in the first place -- the copies of Freedom Eagle's gravity-gauntlets that Scrounge wore -- Gossamer saw that the scanner indicated she go east-southeast. Soon she finds herself in a familiar setting: the North Bay area, a posh district of expensive waterfront homes and historic mansions owned by some of Freedom City’s wealthiest families. The scanner leads her to one particular oceanfront home, a light blue three-story home with multiple decks. The house had a few lights on, at each floor, but she did not hear anything unusual from inside. Then again, it would have been hard to do so, given that several of the houses flanking this one were throwing a big communal bash. It was the middle of summer, after all, so the beachhouses were filled with many college-aged kids (they went to Ivy league colleges, but they were still college kids) were partying hard this Friday night.

Huh, seems like he ain't even heard o' magic. Could his culture really be that different? "Well, part o' th' reason they ain't speakin' t'ya is that y'ain't from around here," it said, in a tone that seemed to be a touch diplomatic. "'Course, yer alive, too, and most livin' folks cain't see th' dead, not unless they had some strong connection to th'person in life. On th'other hand, many don't want t'see th'dead, foregoin' whatever wisdom they might could pass on in order t'evade th'reminders o' their own mortality." "As fer magic," it continued, standing straight up and retrieving its shovel from the dirt, slinging the tool across its shoulders, "it... well... magic is magic. It's... okay, wait, I know: on yer world, are there folks what can do all sorts of.. well, I guess 'superhuman' wouldn't be th' proper term, but... well, people with abilities beyond those o' the normal folks? Like bein' able t'fly, or create flame, or move things with th'power o' their minds? Well, magic's like dat, it's a way to do stuff normal folks cain't. Some folks're born with it, some pick it up from books and learin' from others. Like ah said, Phantom can explain this all better, if'n ya really wanna know m-." The odd being's eyes suddenly went wide, and the emerald flames in its eye flared up for a brief moment. "Ah-HA! I know how I can help you, an' prove I ain't joshin' ya! Ya said yer friend, th' one from here, th' one what left you somethin' in that grave yonder," it pointed to the spot Zak had been digging, "gave his life so's you & a few others could escape th'invasion. What wouldja say if'n I toldja I can talk t'him, pass on a message? I'm sure I could -- there could be some things left unsaid 'tween you two, so his spirit may still be lingerin'. 'Course, I'd need somethin' of his to do it, ifn' his body ain't around..."

Sounds fine.. Any suggestions on the thread title?

Had an idea for a way to prove DH can talk to the dead: have Physicus (the first, now dead, one) pass on a message to Zak via DH. And include something that only the two of them would know (which Zak may simply attribute to mind reading).

"Alien... is a term dat could be applied, ja," he said after a moment's though. "He vas an alien in de sense dat he vas not born on dis Earth, but he vas born an an Earth, von in a parallel dimension," he explained while gliding back over to the assortment of scanners and checking their progress, "a vorld dat vas lost to de Terminus. It vas his trip through, from dat universe to dis von, dat empowered him." "At least," he tuned and looked back to her, "dat is vhat I haff heard und pieced together." DING! "Ah, von of de other scans is complete... de von for cell structure! Let us haff a look!" Archeville tapped a few commands into a keyboard, and the monitor showed an image of what looked like a blob with lots of little blobs inside it. A few more keystrokes moved the image from the desktop monitor to one of the larger screens on the wall. As he worked, he hummed and nodded, and continued doing so as he glided over to the large screen. He opened his mouth to begin his next lecture, but then closed it, zipped back to the computer, entered a few more commands, and then zipped back to the large screen, which now showed three image,s the original blob flanked by two other blobs. "Okay, de von on de left here," he began as he retrieved his Electromagnetic Screwdriver and began using it as a laser pointer, "is a basic human cell. Dere is de cell membrane, a skin dat houses de entire ding. De brain of de operation is de nucleus, de blob in de middle; it carries your DNA, de specific code dat makes you you. Dose squiggly bits coming off of it are de endopasmic reticula, vhich turn de instructions from de nucleus into de various proteins dat make up your body; dose free-floating squiggly bits, de Golgi apparati, complete de formation of de proteins, und help move dem from inside de cell to outside vhere dey can do some good. Dat strcture dere is de mitochondria, de power source of de cell, converting chemicals into energy for de cell machinery. Und dat dot over dere is a vacuole, de vaste disposal system of de cell." "Now, dis von over here," he pointed to the blob on the fer right, "is a plant cell. Note dat de cell vall is much thicker dan de cell membrane of a human cell. Also, note dis part: de chloroplast, de fuel center of de cell. Dat is vhere photosynthesis occurs, de process vhereby a plant uses sunlight to convert carbon dioxide into various organic compounds, notably sugars." "Und now ve come to your cell," he said cheerfully, pointing to the central blob. "For de most part your cells are de same as human cells; de biggest changes are in de mitochondria. See, here: it has as much in common mit de plant cell's chloroplast as it does mit de human cell mitochondria. It appears your cells can be fueled in two vays: either by ingesting matter, like normal food, or by direct absorption of energy, und perhaps some trace elements." He turned slightly to look at her, "tell me, since you haff grown, how has your appetite been?"

Lantern Hill? That's Dead Head's home! But you've already got a full compliment, it seems, so maybe ol' Deady got impaled early on and doesn't extricate himself until the end?

Wherein Doktor Archeville goes hunting for vampires, but finds a werewolf instead. Specifically, Lukos. My idea had been that Doc goes on patrol, finds a werewolf (Lukos), the they either a] fight, come to a draw, back off from one another, then later Doc shows up at Luko's place while he's in squishy human form and offers to start again in a more civilized manner, or b] fight, Doc wins, subdues him, takes him to his laboratory (muah hah hah hah!), Lukos eventually resumes human form and they chat, or c] fight, Lukos wins, and he... I'm not sure, actually. Your ideas?

Date: March 4th, 2010 Sunrise 6:26am, sunset 5:53pm. Low 34, high 47; winds NW at ~10 mph. Clear in the morning, cloudy/overcast after noon. (If they meet around 7:00am, that morning temp + wind chill = it feels like it's 26 degrees. Brr.) Archeville felt something he'd not felt in quite some time: anxiety of the unknown. It was exhilarating. The night before was also exhilarating, but not nearly as much. The night before, he'd enacted a carefully-prepared plan to track and capture one of the many vampires he knew infested Freedom. He had done hours of research (which, for him, was the equivalent of weeks of research by anyone else), came up with numerous hypotheses to explain their abilities and weaknesses, created several pieces of technology to help track and subdue (and if need be, destroy) them, and had set out to look for them in some likely feeding spots. What he'd found was something entirely different: a werewolf. He knew some about werewolves, of course: German folklore was filled with them. He'd even come across some lore on them while researching vampires -- in Eastern Europe, lycanthropes ad vampires were connected; in most Greek and Slavic dialects, one word referred to both creatures, and in many legends a werewolf was guaranteed to rise as a vampire upon its death! But he was not prepared to face a werewolf, not with the gear he had last night. The silver-coated bola wires would do, but most of the weaponry he'd brought was wood- or light-based. However, werewolves did have one aspect he could readily exploit, at least according to some of the legends. During the day, they were ordinary humans, ones he could talk to. Which is why he now stood on the outskirts of town, in the blustery cold morning light, waiting for a man he saw last night to emerge from the forest. "Hello?," he tentatively called out.

Wherein Colt, Grim, and Jack of All Blades confront part of the city's drug problem. Also, zombies. Working Titles The Interceptors vs. the Reefer Zombies Samedi Bloody Samedi Zombie Powder is a Helluva Drug Time: between Jan 12th and Feb 16th. Yes, both those dates are important. Any particular way y'all want to lead into this? Start the thread with y'all on patrol? Lounging in the brownstone investigating local chronic criminal elements? Colby comes bursting in screaming "ZOMG Zombies!" Cold opening with you three in an empty Fens home, surrounded by zombies battering at the doors and windows?

Date: February 6th, 2010 (Saturday) Time: 7:00pm, an hour and a half past sunset. 25 degrees F, winds NNW @ 15 mph (wind chill 13 degrees F), overcast skies. 14.6 inches of snow fell the previous night, a new record. And it's all still on the ground. The good news: Colt, Grimalkin, and Jack of All Blades were inside, out of the bitter cold (not that it really bothered Grim much). Sure, they were inside a run-down, abandoned house in the Fens, but at least the howling winds weren't bothering them. The bad news: the dozens of howling zombies outside, banging on the doors and boarded-up windows, were a concern. It had seemed like a good place to go to at the time. This is where their leads told them one of the two new drug labs was set up. They expected resistance, but not this!

Wow, poor guy. I been wonderin' what alien afterlifes'd be like. Wonder if he can help? Then again, he don't seem the spiritual type. Wonder if that's jes personal, or it applies to all his folks? "Ah, sorry, ah do tend t'ramble sometimes," it said, chuckling slightly. "And, uh, my condolences on yer losses. I hope y'all can find a nice place t'live here." The being lolled its head back, then back up, "A sorcerer -- least, the way I understand th' term, an' I admit I may be wrong on this -- is someone what uses magic for purely selfish, if not outright evil, means. An' black magic is th' type o' magic a sorcerer uses, magic that kills or enslaves or destroys, without regard for anyone or anythin' around. Most black magic involves traffickin' with nasty demons, or enslavin' an' compelin' th' dead, and I don't take kindly t' that. There's lots more to it than that, but Phantom's better at explainin' this than me; maybe I can introduce you two sometime." It rose from its leaning position against the shovel, twirled around it, then leaned so it was propping its chin on its hands, which in turn were balanced on the tip of the shovel's handle. "As fer how I speak with th' dead... well... I do it th' same way yer talkin' t'me. Exactly the same, in fact, seein' as how I'm dead. Well, dead-ish, at least. An' if that fancy suit o' yours has any sorta bio-scanner," it quickly added, perhaps sensing Zak's non-belief, "it'll tell you this ain't no Halloween costume."

"Oh, please," the bring said with a dismissive wave, "it's jes 'Dead Head'." "An' it sounds like yo an' I have a bit o' somethin' in common," it said as it rose from the curb. It took up its shovel, placed the blade on the asphalt, and began twirling the handle around lazily, "I'm obligated to do what I do, on account o' me bein' the only one who can do what I do. Well... that ain't exactly true," it corrected itself, "but I am one o' th' best at it, if'n I do say so myself." It kicked the blade of it shovel and flipped the tool up, and now used it to point back towards the cemetery they'd been in earlier, "I speak for them, make sure their last wishes are carried out, seek justice for any wrongful deaths, an' make sure any unfinished business gets completed so's they can move on Beyond. Also make sure their remains ain't disturbed none, by graverobbers or sorcerers lookin' to do somethin' nasty." It lowered its shovel and sank the blade into the ground, then leaned against the handle as it faced Zak, "not jes the dead in this place, but any dead, anywhere. I can only travel so far, so fast, though, I can't help 'em all... but, that don't mean I don' try an' help th'ones I can." "Kids, too," it added, "though not nearly as many of them, on account of my appearance. But every once in a while I'll come across one that ain't a-feared o' me; they're usually th'outcasts what get bullied an' picked on, an' I'll offer what advice I can... or go scare off the ones what were tormentin' 'em." The being was silent a moment, though its unblinking eyes remained on Zak. "So, uh, if ya don't mind my askin'," it said in a slightly more somber tone, "you said your home planet was invaded, an' that suit there's some of the last of its technology. I take it, then, that th' invasion... well... it did in yer people? Are you th' only one left? Are ya stranded here on Earth? An' in what way are ya gonna use that fancy air-movin' suit?"

Popular Science releases its archives. 137 years worth. Online. Searchable. For free.

"A quite reasonable hypothesis, Miss Teymourian," he continued, "und, ja, I vill be running tests on anyding in dis room dat you touch, even if only for de briefest of moments. De cameras," he made a wide circling motion with one finger, indicating that there were cameras all over the place, "vill help make sure I do not miss anyding." He began walking towards her, and floating up to reach eye-to-eye level with her, "also, do not be discouraged at dis revelation, since, in a vay, your powers und dose of Centurion are of de same source!" He placed his right hand gently on her shoulder, "vhen he came to dis vorld, his exposure to de cosmic energies of de Terminus altered him, just as dey altered you. You und he haff much in common!"

This time, the blow connects, and knocks the minion into another lamppost, rendering him quite unconscious. Amazingly, even when knocked out, he still clings to the spider-leg-staff.

DH can recommend some great sci-fi movies ;)

"Well, when a mommy corpse and a daddy corpse love each other very much... wait, no, that's not it." "Truth be told," it said, sitting down on the curb, "I'm not entirely certain myself. I was a livin', breathin' person once. Went to a party with a bunch of my college friends, about ten years ago." It paused and cocked its head to one side, "Party was goin' great, 'till mah head exploded as green lightnin' lashed out from it an' killed everyone." Its head cocked the other way, "then I got up, then I helped all mah dead friends up, and we got back to partyin'." Its head titled again, now looking straight at Zak, "'till the crasher came and ruined it all fer us. I've been walkin' th' earth ever since, helpin' who I can." Again, Zak could not help but notice that the being's eyes never once blinked. "So what's yer story?," it asked, leaning forward a bit. "How'd you come to this lil' blue planet, an' who's yer dead friend?"

Ohh, so he is a newcomer! I could really have some fun with him! Did the frozen rictus grin on the creature just widen a bit? "Yeah, I get that a lot," it said while slowly walking towards Zak. As it spoke, its voice took on a practiced cadence, as if it were reciting something from memory, "Okay, let's see if we can start from the beginning: I am demised. Passed on. No more. Expired, but not gone to meet my Maker. Stiff. Bereft of life, yet not resting in peace. If I weren't standin' here in th' street, I'd be pushin' up the daisies. My metabolic processes are hist'ry. I've kicked the bucket, shuffled off my mortal coil (then put it back on), and am the new rep for the Choir Invisible. I am an ex-human." Dead Head knew the newcomer wouldn't recognizes his little speech as a Monty Python reference, but good lines are good lines.

The minion had been running in a wide parabolic arc towards the street, and Gossamer had aimed her hair-strike accordingly, but the fellow suddenly turned when the spider-leg-staff got caught on a streetlight, causing him to turn sharply. It was not much of a turn, but it was just enough for Gossamer's attack to miss. "Ha!," he triumphantly exclaimed, "ain't no stoppin' me!"