Avenger Assembled
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Why Can't I Breathe (OOC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Freedom City Stories
There is nothing in that building! It is totally dead to your magic senses, which is... a little odd! Normally there's at least _something_. -
"I could hit him with ax, I suppose," said Frost thoughtfully, "give him great surprise...but no, no reason to do murders with Ax of One Thousand Murders." He set the ax carefully down by the truck. "But no reason to leave ax here willy-nilly either!" He concentrated on the ax, gripping the handle tightly, and as Isaac watched an icy rime of frost crept up and down the wood and metal until the ax was completely encased in a thin layer of blue-white ice. The ax kept up a running commentary at this, mostly obscenities, as it was frozen solid by the ice vampire's touch. Dusting his hands off, Frost turned to Isaac. "There, should give fellows second thoughts if they aim to steal it. And may shatter in hands if they try!" Studying the building, he hmmed, gloved hand under his chin. "Well, why don't you tell me what you see, hmm?"
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A Picture of Sophisticated Grace (IC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Port Regal
Aquaria had watched Erin and Jessie struggle with her hands carefully in her lap, avoiding the urge to intervene. She knew the two Surfacer women were both much stronger than she was, and getting in the way would only make Jessie upset, and possibly lead to an injury that would spoil their day of freedom. And as sad as it was, Erin was experienced with this by now. Figuring that Jessie had heard enough of her about how awesome moving out was going to be (even though it really was), she took out her phone and fiddled with it. Her big, slightly damp fingers weren't perfectly suited for most phones she'd seen, but this one seemed to be specially modified. "Ooh, neat! It's got games on it!" Aquaria didn't really know anything about that - but games for phones were advertised a lot on TV, so they had to be important. "I can put recipes in here, too. We can have tilapia, and flouder, and imitation crab...and stuff that isn't fish," she added. She kept her hoodie pulled up as the truck pulled into traffic, not wanting to cause a panic. She knew what Surfacers did when she walked around with her face exposed - and thinking about that was enough to make her want to think about something else. "And if I want to get to the Hunter mansion to work as a groundskeeper, I take the subway Red Line and get off at the fourth station," she said, repeating instructions she had carefully memorized. "Because it's dark down there, and damp, and nobody looks at anybody." She looked up at the sky, as best she could, hemmed in by the many, many tall buildings here. "I hope it rains tonight." -
Okay, folks - Looking to recruit a small collection of newish players for a thread! The idea here is that your character has been hired for publicity/security for the test run of a brand-new cruise ship, the SS Mictlan. Your PC should be credible/famous enough that a company would reasonably want to do that. Who wouldn't want an all-expenses-paid Caribbean vacation?
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Welp, he must not have been super-person after all. Or maybe he's just eccentric - seems like everyone in Freedom City is. "Certainly," said Frost with equanimity. "But please do roll down the windows. American cars chill the blood!" It was an interesting ride; Frost's cold was a palpable thing inside the truck's cab, but he didn't seem interested in the air conditioning at all. Rather he was much more interested in the windows, basking in the summer heat of the cab like an old serpent. The ax, on his lap, kept muttering profanely violent suggestions to the two men, but seemed to lack the intelligence to do something like try and cause a car wreck by shouting. Eventually the address they found led them to a rural antique store near the edge of the old State Forest, which sure enough did have the sign "Lew Siffer's Antiques", complete with a faded wooden painting of a red, horned devil nearby, placed against a wooden porch dotted with various rustic antiques. "Well, this looks all-American," said Frost as they exited the truck. It didn't sound like a compliment. "Might as well go ring bell..." Ax still over his shoulder, he headed for the door.
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Why Can't I Breathe (OOC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Freedom City Stories
Some interesting things - 1. The ax does indeed seem to be haunted by a spirit of bloody murder! A minor spirit of bloody murder, sure, but bloody murder all the same. As for Comrade Frost, he is a puzzle. He is a vampire! But appears to be animated by something other than the typical necromantic energies of a vampire - something extradimensional and cold. He's more like a walking gateway to some other place than anything else. 2. Comrade Frost actually has his own Wikipedia entry. Dimitri Peshkov, aka Comrade Frost, is a veteran Russian superhero who has been active since the 1940s. He's been posted to liason work with the Freedom League for some time now. -
Good luck, Exaccus! (And other people)
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Okay, go ahead and give me whatever Well-Informed/Online Research checks you're using here.
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Suddenly, a nearby screen flared to life - a bright, static glow that visibly resolved itself into the unmistakable form of Sharl Tulink, the chest symbol of Citizen glowing brightly on his chest. The glow sharped, flickered for a moment, and then Citizen appeared in the middle of the room, a faint glow above his head tracing its way to the projector he'd left on the roof. "All right, I got the cure!" he exclaimed, something like a high-tech iPad in his hand. "Hey, what's that?" he demanded of Madame Marvelous, whirling away from Set to look at the remote in her hand. "Is that an...analog device? What century are you living in?" he demanded. The truth was there wasn't much he could to affect a device of that nature, but there was no reason to show that kind of weakness before the bad guy. "Hand it over now, and we won't beat you with it!"
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"Five years against five lifetimes. A drop in the ocean." As Tarva spoke, she extended her hand and a black, shadowy drop of liquid spattered against her palm. "We had a traveling caravan, then, and we would go from little town to little town, busking and fortune-telling for money. Blades would do some swordplay and entertain the crowd, Beanpole was a straight man...well," she said, waving her hand back and forth with a half-smile. "The boys would tell jokes, and then I would come out and dance and do magic for the people. Things were..." Her voice trailed off, and for a moment it seemed she was going to clam up again. "Blades had the softest hands. And Beanpole had the sweetest way about him, and the most beautiful voice. When we had enough money, we were going to settle down together and open a school, and the boys would teach music and I would teach magic, and Blades would teach swordplay and Beanpole numbers and writing." She shook her head. "They were the best of friends before they fought over me, so I'm very glad I got them to stop fighting. If I was lucky and I got them both in a good mood, they could start singing old songs that..." She looked off in the distance again and began to sing a slow, ancient-sounding tune that reminded Kimber of Renaissance-era music. "Isn't the world a lovely place; everywhere you go, a smiling face...what does the future hold?" She'd shed tears in Kimber's presence before, but now, as the song caught in her throat, Tarva put her face in her hands and began to softly weep.
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A Picture of Sophisticated Grace (IC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Port Regal
"Yes!" exclaimed Aquaria, excitedly, a big smile on her face - bigger than any human face could have handled. "I'm so glad you're here. Jessie, I'll go get our bags!" she told Jessie, not wanting to give her friend an opportunity to 'get stuck' on the way there. Excited as she was (and still not wearing her shoes), she scrambled her way out of the cafeteria and bounded her way upstairs to their rooms. Strong and flexible as she was, she could easily carry both suitcases down to rejoin Jessie and her sister. "C'mon, Jessie," she said excitedly from the door. "We gotta go sign out! Bye, everybody! I promise to write letters!" she said, waving her big, half-webbed hand at the group still in the cafeteria. She let Wander manage Jessie on the way down the corridor to the entrance-exit doors, tough steel reinforced by bulletproof glass on the nearby windows. Still looking very pleased with herself, she went through the familiar ritual of signing herself out on the clipboard for the very last time. Stan the guard, an elderly ex-policeman, gave her his usual smile. "Good luck out there, kid. You too, Ms White," he went on, offering the clipboard to Jessie. Aquaria was practically bouncing in place still, obviously ready to spring right out the door. "Thanks! Kuo-kuo! Tell Mizz Wainwright she can come by our apartment any time!" -
As the conversation turned to more serious subjects, Will and Holly headed inside to load the dishwasher and to break into the Rocky Road - Will's speed meaning the kids could finish clearing the table in the space of only a few seconds. (Curious as she was, Holly had to get a look from her mom before she let the door close all the way.) "Well," said Richard, carefully keeping his tone light, "if you're going to bring him in for testing, I'd suggest doing it at Nicholson. At least with them you're not worried your boy's gonna get drafted or have his name go on a government watchlist somewhere. Are you in a place where you can have that done?" he asked as generally as possible. Given Starlight's background, he could make some guesses about why she might not have mentioned having a kid - and none of them were good ones. He sometimes wondered what would have happened if he'd knocked Paige up while they were both using.
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"Their story is even shorter. They loved, and lost, and never were at all. You know, when I was a girl, I learned at my mother's knee that the souls of those who died ascended to a beautiful equestrian kingdom where they could ride forever alongside the gods of sun and moon." Tarva stared at nothing in particular, hardly seeming to notice Kimber there. "The Omegadrones found that realm too, of course, Nightmare Doom showed them the way." Tarva let out a long breath, then released it. "Steelgrave had the Sun's head hollowed out into a mask to wear at his debaucheries, while the last I saw, Omnibeast had made a blanket out of the Moon's skin. So you see, Kimber, wherever the boys were, they are no longer there."
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That hits Tou vs 28 http://orokos.com/roll/305987 = 10! Knocked out and grappled like a ragdoll.
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"Oh, it's not a very interesting story," Tarva warned Kimber, cold bitterness bubbling in her voice. "A minor priestess is expelled from the temple when she tries to drug her greatest rival before their final competition. Right in the middle of the war, too, what a petty little creature she must be." Kimber could hear the voice of someone long dead, or worse, in Tarva's mimicking tone. "While the Great Six fight the forces of Chaos and lose every day, all she can do is cling what she has while the world burns around her. And then the Six go into the place between places to find a way to bring peace to our land. And they come back, changed." Kimber had heard this story before, and so Tarva evidently felt no need to expand on it. "And when everything is ended, our priestess finds that in the end she thinks that life is sweeter than death, even if to get that life she has to blot out all she once loved. Like a shadow in the night." She fell silent for a moment, leaning back in the tent and staring off at nothing. At some point in the conversation she had sat down, her hair now shaped into a black ponytail that hung between her shoulder blades. "And after that, I had my magic, and myself, and the way it pleased some in the Terminus to have me as one of theirs. I liked Taarvon better than the rest, so I took his name. He was pleased to see one who came to the shadow of her own wicked will - and to hear the secrets of the Hounds before they became Madrigal's. Oh, don't get me wrong," she said with a wave of her hand. "he slew proles when it pleased him and used their blood as components in fell rites. But in the end he worshiped himself more than any other god - and understood those who did the same. It was he who taught me the true shadow magic. When I left him for Steelgrave, he was furious that I did not even bother to poison him as I left. But of course you already know what happened there."
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"Hmm. Very well." Frost eyed the young man, gloved hand on his chin, looking Isaac up and down carefully. "But you let me see where it is you put Ax of One Thousand Murders afterwards. If rest of Freedom League finds out I just hand over murder machine willy-nilly, then there will be lots of questions like "Frost! Why you hand over murder machine willy-nilly?!" He did a pretty good imitation of someone there. Hmm. I wonder if he is a superhero. It seems as though everyone in Freedom City has some superpower or another. "Saaay," he finally offered, "I am going to take walk around block, then I can go over to this Lew Siffer fellow. If there is some OTHER fellow here when I get back, I am sure he can give me your apologies and join me there? Eh? Eh?" He winked broadly, then turned and strolled away, the ax now distinctly calling to Isaac. "Don't listen to him! He's a CANNIBAL!"
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"Do you think there is some words you could say that will fix me?" demanded Tarva, her voice tight with pain and the cold shadow of self-anger. "I know what I am. I know the thing that was saved from the Doom Coil. A small, flickering shadow of the woman that was. The woman who killed her soul so she could live another day." She squeezed Kimber's hand tightly; almost painfully - not a familiar sensation for the ghost, and gazed into her eyes with a burning intensity that belied the lie they'd worn just a few minutes earlier. "People like you have been food for me since before your grandparents were born. What can you offer me now?"
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"From hands of a corpse! Mafiya hitman forgot to make sure he was bulletproof before he began with murders." He caught the two humans looking at him and said, "What! OK, maybe that was cold and heartless, but that is problem for me, what can I say?" He shrugged. "Killer becomes worse killer with ax in hand. Worse is when good man becomes bad man with ax in hand. Now where did you buy this thing?" This is going well, he thought. This young fellow here makes a fine good policeman to my bad policeman. "I, uh, got it from a source I've used in the past," said Barton nervously, digging around beneath the register for his account book. Dropping the book on the counter, shooting a grateful look at Isaac, he said, "From a Mr. Lew Siffer of-" "What!?" demanded Frost. "Lew Siffer?" He turned to Isaac, obviously expecting support. "Lew Siffer! Totally reliable figure, I am sure!" "He said it was German!" "Oh, I am sure he did!" announced Frost triumphantly. "Where is this fellow?" A few minutes later, they had an address and Isaac had his purchase - at something of a discount from the harried shopkeeper. "Come, young fellow!" said Frost as he headed out of the shop. "You seem to know this business. Could use assistant."
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A Picture of Sophisticated Grace (IC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Port Regal
"Yes, it's all packed," said Aquaria. "Even my pictures." Her skin, front and back, flushed a darker shade of green at the memories of all the times she'd had to answer lots of questions about the pictures she'd made in art therapy, pictures of the world she'd left behind. Surfacers just didn't like looking at Deep One life, so she'd stopped those pictures and hadn't had to worry about it since. Like Jessie, her worldly possessions all fit into one rolling suitcase - the size of the box they'd had to keep their things in during room inspection. She scooped up the bowl and opened her mouth wide, licking the last of the salty kipper juice out of the metal. "Did you bring yours? We can make a shrine in our new place. Maybe around the window, so we can see it when we look outside." They both were the subject of some interest today, residents and friends they'd made coming over to shake their hand and congratulate them on getting out. Aquaria was happy to take all the attention here, letting Jessie duck out of the conversation while she promised to write to everybody! -
Recognizing that her efforts had failed, Tarva looked away, considering her options even as a black cloak of night wrapped around her body again. "The last time I wanted someone that way, I cut out their hearts so I could see another sunrise." Her voice tightened with agony at those words, the never-healed wounds brought up on the occasion of a new one. She rose to her feet, ducking inside the confines of the tent, and taking and releasing a long, deep breath. "It's much easier for me not to care." Unable to finish the thought, she turned and headed for the exit of the tent. Before she left, she hesitated, in a rare moment obviously unsure of herself, and turned back with black tears in her eyes. "It would be easier if I didn't care, now."
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Tarva took a breath, then released it, unselfconscious of her own nakedness, and tried to regroup. While she'd had results like this from attempted seductions in the past, a failure here could be potentially disastrous. The night was cold; and the others here would surely be wrathful if she broke Kimber's heart. Not to mention the thing in the woods! "Kimber, Kimber, it's all right," she told the ghost reassuringly, swallowing her own panic in a reflex she knew only too well. She followed Kimber towards the back of the tent. "I meant what I said about not feeling alone anymore. I know this is something you want - and giving you my body is..." She looked down at herself and shrugged. "...nothing that matters to me, but it does matter to you. You're very kind, and you're very pretty. I'm sure with enough time, I can be the kind of woman you want me to be," she went on hopefully.
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"It's all right, I feel much warmer now," said Tarva, her smile deepening and for a moment looking oddly like Avro. "Kimber, I'm so...glad you brought me here. I've come so far in my time on Earth-Prime, why, I feel entirely like a different person. Do you remember all that silly poetry I wrote for you?" she asked, slowly moving towards Kimber. She was too tall to actually stand up inside the tent, but bending forward seemed to catch the ghost's attention. "About the dark soul roaming alone forever in the forest of solitude?" She reached down and undid the front bindings of her robe, and suddenly the entire garment slipped away into nothingness. Which was what she was wearing with the robe removed. "Well, I'm not alone anymore..." And with that said, she leaned in for another kiss.
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"No, I wasn't sleeping." Tarva smiled back, her eyes dark and deep as she looked into Kimber's - Kimber could practically feel the strong emotions radiating off the shadow witch, like the faint vibrations from a tightly wound spring. "I couldn't sleep on a night like this, not one that's so...important. Eve and Becky are sleeping and Indira and Avro are away hunting for pleasure - I have a feeling they'll both be gone a long time. There are so many things to see in woods this old." Her canine teeth flashed in the starlight, set against the black lines on the inside of her face. She looked over Kimber's shoulder and nodded in satisfaction, her smile broadening. "I knew you could do it, Kimber. May I enter?" she asked with a significant look down at her bare feet. "It's colder than I thought out here..."
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"Hear me, Amarok," Tarva pled in the darkness of her tent, her voice a soft whisper as she prostrated herself against the floor, the wards she'd placed on the walls shielding her words from the others. "Hear my plea beneath your obsidian skies. Guard my steps and guide my mission. And if I fail, let me be devoured in your mighty jaws." When it was done, she rose to a crouch, her supernaturally attuned senses feeling every spiritual presence within the campground. When she felt Kimber approach, she went about the business of dressing herself. First she wrapped the shadows around herself like a blanket, albeit one that cut low in the chest and high in the leg, summoning the spectral garments as opaque as the skies above. That would, she fancied, fit the mood of the evening. She applied a spectral bandage to the wound on her back that had produced the wards, making sure it blended in with what she already wore. When it was done, she unzipped her tent and walked out into the night, heedless of the cold and the feel of stones beneath her bare feet, making a beeline straight for Kimber's tent. Once there, she scratched on the side of the structure, loud enough to be heard inside. "Kimber?" she whispered throatily. "Are you there?"
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"He's lying! Chop him up and bury him under the floorboards!" The ax was getting really enthusiastic about this conversation, for all that only Stormcrow seemed to be able to hear its voice. "Drink his bloooood!" "Feh, I do not sell Ax of One Thousand Murders to common street passerby!" said Frost, slapping a gloved hand against the ax's wooden handle. "Do you know provenance of this, boy? Wood is forged from hanging tree of colonial Massachusetts and metal was from headsman's ax of medieval England! Carries with it the souls of dead who are hungry for more murders! When ax is traced to original owner, I have it buried in holy ground." "Well it didn't come labeled like that," said Barton defensively. "The guy said it was a unique piece of 19th century American craftsmanship - and the workmanship held up! That thing is a one-of-a-kind variant of New England tool construction - probably from the Springfield works." "From the murder house behind the Springfield works, more like it." declared Frost.