Supercape

Mr. Murk And the Murkman “I have for seen this moment!” Said Mr. Murk and the Murkman, simultaneously. Now, given that various duplicates of this person and that had been popping up all over Freedom City and beyond, it was a reasonable thing to say for anybody. But it so happened that both Mr. Murk and the Murkman had the power of foresight. They could literally see into the future. But, as their respective names suggested, the future was murky unclear and obscure. This moment, however, full of strange eldritch portent, shone out like a beacon in the fog. The Murkman was just as blind as Mr. Murk. However, he was a human in a world of Neathanderthal men, a strange evolutionary quirk. He possessed all the genetic strangeness that one might imagine; lacking the physical strength and robust build of his fellows, he had instead a unnaturally sharp mind, spinning and dancing with ideas and creativity. They had met in Freedom City park, under the moonlight, for both shared the uncanny connection with the Murk, a gloomy archaic dimension that existed under the realms, but never where sunlight shone. Both had wrapped their skin with this strange shadow, appearing as simple, unremarkable men in simple, unremarkable clothes. Perhaps the Murkman, being human, needed no such disguise – for here he was but a blind man with milky white eyes. But, force of habit was a strong thing, and especially so for these immortals who had lived a hundred thousand years between them. And now they recognised each other on site, and spoke the same words at the same time. Followed by a little chuckle. Then, the world fell apart around them. In such strange times, with the fractures of reality splintering and sundering the world, this might be taken literally. But no, it was not the end of the world, not yet. Mr Murk and the Murkman had taken the same decision. This meeting was not best suited to the mundane world (although mundane was a poor description of the current state of affairs anywhere, and more so when one considered they were living in Freedom City). There were prying eyes and noise, lights, people. No, this meeting, this conversation, was best had in the Murk. The Murk was as the Murk always was. Grey, dim, and archaic. There was the sound of flies, who seemed quite at home moving in and out of this dimension, and indeed seemed to thrive on it. Here, all life and colour drained and only a skilled navigator could stay long, lest all zest be pulled from their soul. Every now and again, one could find the motionless half alive corpse of some astral wanderer who had succumbed to total apathy. Fortunately Mr Murk and the Murkman were quite used to this dimension, they stood like torches in the darkness. Around them, the echo of the world they had left behind. A bleached, empty and crumbling echo. The paving stones cracked to dust, the trees petrified and dead, the wooden benches rotten and old. “Well met by moonlight” bowed the Murkman. “I do not know what strange gravity your world is holding over others, but it has pulled me here. And I am not alone…” “It is ill portent” replied Mr. Murk. “A taste of what to come. Times will grow desperate, and the different worlds will be as one. This, I have seen, although as always, the future is obscure” “Always” replied his counterpart. “And yet this will happen. The collapse of all futures into one. And then….” “Who knows? Not I” “Nor I” They both felt the gloom reach a bit further under their skin. But neither shuddered, for the Murk, despite all its bleak character, was not cold. “My home is full of your race, and yours full of mine” commented the Murkman, his face alive with the ironic humour and pain of the situation. “Perhaps we should have been born in each other’s world”. “Then maybe we would not have been born at all” said Mr. Murk. “Perhaps it is that cruelty that has driven us to these gifts, such as they are…” “Or these gifts drove us to such cruel fates. I do not see time as an arrow piercing the cosmos in a straight line” “Nor do I, nor do I” agreed Mr. Murk. “And as much horror as I have seen, I do not resent the way things are, have been, or shall be” he continued, boldly. “It has taught me to value love above all. It is the fire of life” “Alas that it burns us so. I would say Kindness is, but it is but a subtle shade different to Love” On that, they had no disagreement. “How then, does a human fit in with my kind?” asked Mr. Murk, genuinely curious. He had lived fifty thousand years and this was a genuinely new experience. It seemed he was getting more and more of them recently. “Not well, but it could be worse” laughed the Murkman. “I clothe myself in the murk when I can. The sun is not often seen by me. But, from what I can see, I have it easier than you. My world is full of forests and wood, we tend to art more than industry, stories more than science. It cannot be more than a tenth of your population, and wild expanses of untamed land flow from east to west, and west to east. It is a world of nature, and yours, it seems, is a world of steel” “With all that steel brings. Relief from pain, and the means to inflict it” replied Mr Murk, a blend of sourness and gratitude. “For everything we lose, we gain” “You sound like you like this world well, despite everything” said the Murkman. “I do. For I am woven into it. Perhaps then, even if we could exchange places, we would not choose to do so” “I think we would not” said the Murkman. “For all that is ill fortune, much is blessed, and like you, I am woven into the story of mine own world” The two immortals nodded to each other in respect and stood there, in the gloomy dimension, pondering what immortal oracles do. And one can only ponder what they might ponder. But nothing lasts forever, even immortals considering infinity and beyond in a silent and shadowy dimension. After much contemplation, the sun started to shine, and the gloom started to melt away, replaced by the world proper. Or in this case, two worlds proper. For a moment, Mr. Murk looked upon the world of the Murkman. It was as his counterpart had said, rich and vibrant. Tall trees, green and noble, with wooden buildings that seemed to grown as much as be built. Neanderthal man and woman went about daily business, dressed in splendid home woven clothes, smiling, loving, cooking, weaving. And, yes, conducting arts and crafts, drama and poetry. In the distance, proud mountains stood, capped in crisp white, and dawn sprang through them. And the Murkman began to fade. “My world, which now pulls me back. Do not lament overly much. The grass, as they say, is always greener on the other side” “Ah, I lament a little” sighed Mr. Murk. “It is beautiful, and tis wisest to see beauty in all things, even if only for a moment” And with that, he was in Freedom City Park, the dawn slicing away the residual Murk. He clothed himself in its remnants, but only for minutes. Then, he would be naked once more, that strange aberration, the last of Homo Nandethalensis. But, as he scurried away to his limousine, with blacked out windows, he felt just a little bit less alone.

Sgt Shark The Sarge would have preferred a stealthy approach, but frankly, it was all he could do to contain himself right now. He clamped his jaws shut, feeling the powerful muscles tighten. Still, there was biting to be done, it seemed. "Take cover..." he hissed. He was sure they could take pretty much anything underwater. And certainly hand to hand. But over confidence was a flaw that had to be beaten out of every soldier. Besides, if these aliens could control minds, they might have any number of long range weapons that would give them an edge. "...they may start shooting!" Oh how his brain was alive with smells and blood! He could barely think straight, let alone talking. He didn't know if he wanted to sniff the Sea Devil again, or if he really wanted to. Both options appealed and frightened. So he swam behind the nearest rock. For all the good it would do.

Yep! "He has a US army tattoo on his right arm and a tattoo of a Samurai on his left"

Lament "He probably will reward me with a knife in my back" said Lament. "Although as you now know, it takes more than a knife to stop the Lord of Lamentations!" That said, he had no wish to engage Grendel's mother in further conflict. As much as he might make out that he was the master, it was clearly a tough fight for them both. He took the three liquids and walked out of the cave. Backwards. 'Twas as well to be sure she did not try to stab him in the back! Once out, he looked around. The Raven! That be one mystery still obscured! It helped me...it understood me...mayhap I can ask for its aid again?

GM The Wall paused, and Jack Jackson pointed the camera man to this moment of tension. Even the police, protestors and immigrants fell silent, looking at the giant Mexican with his mask on. The Wall looked around. He gave Justice a look. A brief moment of uncertainty, until he came to resolution. He had a twinge of regret amongst that determination. "This was always the plan" He surged forward a couple of feet, knocking protestors of their feet violently. He stopped, at looked at Justice. "Sorry" That was it. He was a man of few words. He talked with his fists. And he wanted to do some talking. With that, he started running towards Blowfish who, for once, look startled. "Hey hey buddy. It's ok! Whatever you want! We can make a deal!!!" But the Wall was firm. And Blowfish saw it. "Gun him down!!!!" he barked to his bodyguards.

Snakebite "<Fine>" She was not totally happy with the rough justice of the village, but it was justice. And better than none at all. This was the jungle. What other authority was there? But there was something still unknown. Who was his collaborator? "I saw it all Neil. We both know you are a greedy opportunist. Maybe you did want to get out. But you crawled your way out over the dead bodies you left in your wake. I know why you did it. I even understand why you did it. But now you live with the consequences" she told him. "But one thing I don't get. Who helped you?" she said. "You may as well tell me...."

GM "Ember? Ember?" said Morgen, scratching her filthy hair. "Yes...I remember Ember....old God. Gone. Dead..." She turned and shuffled into the ruined Church, which was even more ruined on the inside than the outside. It smelled of rotten wood, fungus, and ancient earth. She started rambling, and it was not clear if she was talking to herself, Voin, Dreadnought, or arguably something else completely. "...old Gods. Old Gods. So many dead. Or sleeping. Perhaps it is the same. I hear them. I hear them whispering...." she croaked. "They should wake, you know!" she said, spinning round to point at Dreadnought. "Like we woke them in the past! Then, they would at least be honest and true, rather than infect dreams and visions when they turn in their slumber!"

GM "Oh it isn't? I'm sure that's what I heard you say" replied a dissapointed Zip. "Hmph. Well of course I can do better" he said. "I am completely certain that my dimensional hopper may be accurate!" he said proudly. "And the more juice, the better, hmm? More power never hurt anyone. Unless its more power to a hyperdimensional tyrant called collapse!" he declared. He started playing with the dials on his D-Hopper. "Come on then, my friend. Don't just stand there. Give me the juice and Ill sunder the dimensional barriers! Home it is! Sooner or Later!"

Lament "You are a fool to think me a fool!" replied Lament, full of bluster again. The Mothers resurgance of confidence mirrored his own. By his measure, she had a short memory. "I know the Elf King has no love for mortals. I know he would steal a flower and pluck a maiden!" he added, wondering quite how that juxtaposition of phrases had happened and decided it worked just as well anyway. "Stealing his tears has only made him more cruel. For now, he had stolen a score of children who weep day and night just so he can experience the faintest glimmer of his memories. But an echo. Imagine if his furious desire for tears grows stronger still?" he explained. "You did not forsee the depths of his despair, nor the horror of his designs, no, and not the reach of his vengeance!"

The Red Rat "No problems at all. You must be the first person in the universe to have no problems" said the Rat, getting steel into her voice. She quite fancied pulling a Rat-gun on him, until she realised a microsecond later that the Rat-guns were still in the Rat-copter. Never mind. Venomax could hit hard and if need be, she could kick his ass. She hoped. "What's your secret? Don't lie to me. You have already demonstrated quite well that you are quite incapable of lying" she said, taking a step closer to him...

GM Zip pondered the offer and gave a wiggle of his eyes, a sly smile on his lips. "Terminus Energy, eh? Well, that will certainly give it some oomph..." He fiddled with the D-Hopper on his wrist. "You could certainly give it a go! My expertise is more in power than in finesse, if you catch my drift..." "Great..." sighed Lulu, not pleased with the prospect. Zip ignored her. "Its fairly accurate!" he insisted. "Fairly?" shrieked the ASTRO scientist. "Yes! Fairly! Which is better than kind of" snapped back Zip. "More power, more accurate. I think" he said, looking unsure. "In any case, I'll take what we got. Now...where do you want to go?"

Snakebite Cassie was not sure whether to admire Neils Cunning or Lament his stupidity. Did he really think he could safely master that beast? Tempting, surely, but that kind of wild fury would never be tamed. There was some horrible pact here; the Goddess sacrificing herself to make whole what had been sundered, and Neil attempting to master the power. She looked down at her own ring, and Neil's. Two sides of a coin. And no simple dichotomy either, it seemed. A bit of one in the other. She would happily throw both rings into some pit of lava. But first she had to take them off. She gave an experimental tug on her own, and on Neils.

GM The Finnish woman turned around, rather surprised, but not startled or scared. Crime was practically unheard of in this remote part of the world, and she was a robust woman. "<Goodness, whatever for?>" she replied. "<Have you broken down somewhere?>" she asked, concerned but trying to be helpful. "<I'm not sure I can just hand over my car, but I would be happy to help...maybe I could drop you off somewhere? A garage? There is a car rental place twenty miles south of here. Maybe they could drop one off to you?>" she suggested. A valid suggestion under normal circumstance, but one that would surely require identification and registration. That said, the woman did look genuinely concerned and keen to help.

GM Blowfish was spitting venom, his tic out of control, his composure blown to the winds. But despite his flabby build, he was a tough guy. His broken nose was testament to a youth boxing, and his spinal cord maintained its autonomy over his body. His guard was up and he swayed away. "Calm down, Boss, you are on Camera!" said one of his cronies, gently. "Burn that Camera! And anyone who gets in my way!" snapped back Blowfish. He slapped the minion hard across the face. "Hear that? Anyone gets in my way gets burned!" Jack Jackson was not a brave man but this was too good to miss. His camera was pinned straight on Blowfish. And now the next piece of chaos fell into place. The Wall was going off plan. Hearing the vile tuants of Blowfish, he turned towards him and started plowing through the police and protestors, smacking his fists together. Nobody was even half strong enough to stop him, either...

@Tiffany Korta, @Avenger Assembled, @Thevshi Anyone care to proceed?

Sorry, his defence is +5, sufficient to beat that even if flat footed! Lets play it out IC...it dosent feel quite like combat in the regular sense!

Blowfish is a boxer, although he is low PL. Still, it gives him the all out attack feat! Punches Justice: 1d20+10 22 his punch lands, DC 17 Tough Save!

GM On cue, Blowfish started up his tic. His cronies took a step back on reflex. When Blowfish blew, somebody was going to get hurt. Badly hurt. Over several days. Probably involving a blunt spoon. "Pfhhh....pfhhhh....now what right have you....pfhhhh.....pfhhh...." he blustered, but was unable to keep his cool. Veins on his forehead throbbed. When Justice started to mention him puckering his cheek he almost exploded. "Pfhhh....pfhhhh you little guttersnipe....pfhhh....pfhhhh....these scum Mexican's work for me now!!! pffh pffh!" As his tic span out of control, so did his anger. Snapping, he clenched his fists and threw a punch right at Justice!

Lament "I am force, not wisdom. Darkness, not light" replied Lament, trying to make...light (Ahem) of his ignorance. And the last thing he wanted was Grendel's mother gaining in confidence. "But I believe I can...control...the infinite emptiness inside me, for now. Although the elder Gods know you have not made it easy!" he said, accusingly, with pointed finger. "Speak now, and make it quick and pertinent! 'Lest my will crack before the infinite horror and power that even now crawls inside me to feed on you!"

Flux "Survive?" replied Flux, finding the question odd. "I am not sure that is the right word for it. Information collapses in on itself. That's about all I can recall. This sense of everything being crunched and collapsed. I am not even sure I existed, even if I was thinking. I am not sure I was thinking, even if I existed" he said, a faint hint of panic in his voice. "...but I digress. I am afraid I will be of no use by mining my memories of the Quantum Dark Zone" And I don't think I want to either... The moth had it as right as anybody, in his view. Which was probably not very right at all. Or, arguably, both right and wrong at the same time.

GM The Crowds dutifully parted. Jacksons eyes popped from sockets and his tongue flopped out of his mouth, salivating heavily. "Code CAPE!" he yelled to his cameraman, barely able to keep his head from exploding. What fortune! All this drama and a cape too! Blowfish twitched. One solitary tic. But he kept it together, just. His initial surprise was dulled by years of experience. He was practiced both in careful planning and rolling with the unpredictable. Still, his normally unrattled facade was not completely smooth. "...ahem....well now...I....am almost happy to help a concerned citizen..." he waffled, looking more at the crowd than at Justice. And not at all at Jackson (much to Jack Jacksons Ire). "I don't pay much credence to rumour, gossip, and hearsay. Unless I can sue!" he half-quipped in retort.

GM 'Twas not a difficult task. There was a variety of vehicles and all were worthy of snow and icy roads. Perhaps the best was a 4x4 with snow wheels, a newish license plate, and an unassuming incognito appearnce. And, more importantly, a middle aged woman dressed in several layers of arctic clothing had just parked it. She looked like a typical scandinavian appearance and demenour. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and ruddy, with a calm kindly face that was disposed against rash or violent emotion.

Lament "Do I need to?" said Lament, harshly. He was being bold, despite the effort of holding the Void in check and his weeping crackling flesh. "The King of Elves demands his tears back! They are his, and to him they must be returned!" he stated. He forced more drama into his voice. "Returned to him, they must be! What they must, is to him be returned!" he said, his voice deep and rolling and full of thesbian might once more. He pointed a finger at the mother. "Why did you steal them? What right have ye?"

Flux "Plenty of theories" replied Flux. "But thats all they are. Speculations. Until we get more data, they will remain so" he explained. He had had vague dreams, poorly recalled, of his time in the Quantum Dark Zone. They made little sense. But they filled him with odd and disturbing ideas and feelings. He did his best to ignore them. They served no function other than to flaw his thinking. "Time and space will be progressively distorted as we approach" he said, more confidently. "And other dimensions, too, most likely" he added, less confidently but more ominously. "Ill do my best to interpret the data and keep us on the straight and narrow. But I have my limits. And they will, most likely, be exceeded. So we are walking, quite literally, into the dark...."

Snakebite Interesting. Things become clearer. Darkness remains. She shook herself out of the haiku of thought. What had transpired? And what consequences would they live with? Neil had been deceptive, and, thought Cassie, had manipulated Kayara (although what Kayara was thinking or intended was open to speculation). He had gathered a second, tainted ring. Linked to the hot band on her own finger. And how had it ended up on her finger, she wondered? The Beast within. Was the beast linked to the tainted ring? Was it in the tainted ring? Was the beast some force from the dark corners of the soul? Perhaps more of the past would reveal. She mulled all this and more, then started playing forward again, from the current position...