KnightDisciple

Hehehehehe. Oh boy oh boy the Lord does work in mysterious ways oh my.

So are we starting out in civilian guise at the coffee shop, or near it?

"The dragon I know prefers a floating castle.) Gabriel opened his eyes and turned to look at the others, his brow furrowed in thought. "I can hear them. Without seeing them, and from what I can piece together, there's two dragons and four humans. Two of those are likely to be more...martially-inclined people. It sounds like they are "knights" of some kind. One of the humans is a religious figure, perhaps also a political leader, a priestess. The last is younger, perhaps not officially anything but a refugee." He paused. "I...I can hear them. I can interpret the individual words, but I can barely make sense of what the collected whole means. It's not traditional grammar according to any language I've encountered, possibly any on earth. All I can figure out is a rough idea of who's who, and that they don't agree about something. Without some kind of grammar guide I'm going to have trouble reliably interpreting. But. They're clearly not mindless, and they can have different opinions, so hopefully that gives us an 'in' for negotiations." He glanced at everyone else for a moment before continuing. "Why not just meet them out in the open a couple miles inside the dome? That's less threatening for them, and worst case it doesn't box anyone in. I think trying to meet in a middle ground and talk has more chance at success than charging all the way to wherever they're holed up at."

How does she feel about grungy guys who dropkick evil but also talk in oddly apocalyptic language?

Thoughtspeed Notice Check: 20.

GM Posts Deep Into That Darkness Peering: 4 GM Posts (8 IC Posts) All posts to Nevermore Thoughtspeed Father's Day: 5 IC Posts My Dearest Angelica: 6 IC Posts Sun Walker Blood Runs Cold: 1 IC Post Gabriel Empire of Emerald and Jade: 7 IC Posts April/May 2017 Vignette: What It Liked Was Destruction All posts/points to Nevermore Cobalt Templar April/May 2017 Vignette:Honor Thy Father And Mother Nevermore April/May 2017 Vignette: Not So Happy Hunting

Just as a note, I've been trying to give others a chance to post IC before I respond, due to having put out several posts without much space in between. Don't want to dominate the thread. If no one else has anything I'll post IC though.

What can we do to get ourselves rolling again here?

Nevermore Not So Happy Hunting It was dark, the hours of the morning of the day the Atlanteans would launch their attack against the surface world. However, about twenty of their finest had donned dark uniforms that covered all but their faces, goggles helping them use their natural vision (which could easily see in the “dark” of most cities) without random lights blinding them for precious moments. They crept through alleyways and over rooftops, slowly drawing nearer to their target. The King himself had given this assignment, saying that if they were successful, it could serve to cripple morale, and possibly keep several of the Surfacer “heroes” from entering the field of battle at all. Their goal was to capture and contain, nothing more; everyone on this team had been chosen for being able to stay calm no matter what, and not act rashly, not lash out in anger. Some of them had strong-willed children themselves, so dealing with a school filled with powered Surfacer children wouldn’t be totally outside their wheelhouse. Just five blocks from the Claremont campus, the platoon leader raised a fist and gave a set of hand signals to call for a stop and team huddle. “Sir, why are we stopping? We’re close enough we should be splitting up to execute the plan.” “Because. We’re being hunted.” As one, the group looked around. One of them spoke. “Uh...guys? Where are Fathom-Six and Fathom-Eleven?” Now the tension was palpable on everyone but the group leader. “I just told you, we’re being hunted.We need to stay calm, and stay together. Nobody separates from the main group in anything less than groups of three. We have extra time, we need to be careful.” With that, the group moved on, splitting now into three large-ish groups, one taking a straight path, the other two pincering around. For the next few minutes, everything was quiet, until suddenly the radio came alive with shouts of surprise and terror from the eastern team. “What the-” “From the shado-” “Moves like a squid!” After less than two minutes, the radios went silent. Slowly, the platoon leader attempted to raise that group. “Fathom-Three, this is Fathom-Lead. Please confirm status.” Silence. Then, suddenly, the line went live. “You breathe too loudly.” The line dropped. The leader cursed, then raised the other group. “Fathom-Two, this is Fathom-Lead. Regroup. Hostile took out Fathom-Three’s group.” “Roger that, Fathom-Lead, this is Fathom-Two, moving in. Wait, what’s that so-” Static, for several moments. “Everyone, that rooftop, now!” The remaining Atlanteans moved to a nearby rooftop that had ample cover and good sightlines around it. It wasn’t the tallest building, but it was near enough for Fathom-Lead. He hated losing time, but better to catch this hunter and stop him now, than lose the rest of his troops to whatever this was. For the next 30 minutes, the troops anxiously stood and crouched in their positions, occasionally moving between designated points, as much to keep blood flowing as anything. Fathom-Lead roamed around the central area of the roof, trying to keep an eye on everyone, not often succeeding. After one of these circuits, he stopped and looked at a particular spot. “Where’s Fathom-Six?” Everyone froze and turned to where the commando should have been; all that was there was his abandoned weapon. A weapon cracked in the middle, rendered useless. Fathom-Lead’s spine went cold; these were specially-made weapons not unlike Surfacer firearms, silent but powerful, and built to be fired like guns or crossbows. To simply break one like that… “URK!” Everyone turned to see another commando being swept over the edge, the only sign of their foe’s presence the very trailing edge of a cape of some kind. A few of them fired shots at the empty space, burning the masonry but doing nothing else. “AAAAAHHHHH!” Another man was dragged screaming by his feet into the shadows of a nearby rooftop, where his cries of fear simply ceased. Their radios cracked. “And then there were four.” Fathom-Lead grit his teeth in anger, his grip on his weapon tightening ever-so-slightly. He signaled for his troops to huddle up, but before they could, three small spheres landed among them. Within moments, thick, choking smoke was erupting out, lingering in the air and making it impossible to see anything more than shadows a couple feet away. The veteran soldier could hear just fine, though, which is why he knew that his last three compatriots were quickly taken down in close-quarters combat. Coughing, he ran to the edge of the roof and looked back. He saw a dark silohette, barely even humanoid, and fired, but by the time his finger pulled the trigger, it was gone. Just a step or two away from being a nervous wreck, he slowly tried to circle the rooftop, seeking an escape path furthest from the smoke and shadows. When he stumbled across the unconscious form of one of his men, he tentatively looked down to check on the man. When he looked up, green eyes were staring him right in the face, and a strange blinking device was already attached to his weapon. Giving a weak smile, Fathom-Lead said the only thing that came to his mind. “Clever boy.” Then all he knew was pain and darkness. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nevermore sighed and dusted off his hands, surveying the bound and piled Atlanteans. His boss/mentor/teacher/third mother was apparently not accepting any comms at this hour. He wasn’t sure how to report this, especially in light of the summit in just a few hours. He glanced down at the leader of the group, the one still thoroughly in dreamland. “Amateurs.” With that, he leapt from the rooftop down to a waiting motorcycle, revving the engine and quickly rolling on, resuming his patrol while occasionally trying to ping the Raven for her attention….

Cobalt Templar Honor Thy Father And Mother In the cold of February, the forest was dark, and instead of greens and browns and most any colors, was mostly dark, dull, and white or grey. The Atlantean scouts had scoffed at the strange plant-life of the surfacers, opining about cutting this down for a temple to Poseidon or some such. They hadn’t expected a human even larger than them to suddenly jump out from behind a tree, rendering all four of them unconscious within moments. Cobalt Templar, currently “dressed” in what looked more like military combat fatigues than his typical armor, dusted his hands off as bonds manifested around the scouts. “Need to check with Nick if the wards are getting frayed, thought hostiles weren’t supposed to pick up the magic…” Suddenly, a phone buzzed, and with a curious quirk of his eyebrow, Templar pulled a phone in a patented Archetech case from a pocket, looking at the name with a frown before answering. “Mom, what’s-” “Corbin, you have to come now!” “Mom, what do-” “Oh my god they just stabbed your father! They’re here, Corbin! We were-the cafe across the street from my work, lots of people, they’re right-” “You there, drop that communicator!” “Wait, no, stop, please-” And then the call ended with what sounded like an energy blast. For several long moments, Cobalt Templar just stood there, the only sound one could hear being the wind in the trees, and the creaking of his reinforced phone case. Then, in a blur of motion, he gathered the unconscious and bound Atlanteans, two to a hand, and streaked off into the sky, the snow below him flashed to steam at the touch of the flames his body was barely containing. ------------------------------------------------ 5 Minutes Ago Albert and Sarah Hughes were enjoying a light lunch in a cafe across the street from Pyramid Plaza, Albert having caught an Uber over there (it was his turn to travel and pay, according to their system), and the game of footsie they were playing might well have led to them taking the rest of the day off. If the glass in the front of the cafe hadn’t suddenly broken inwards with the blows of Atlanteaon blast-spears, the bronze-armored soldiers marching in like they owned the place, yelling orders for the “stupid surfacers” to start moving outside. One of th soldiers looked a little scummier than the rest, and gave Sarah a leering grin that Albert broke with his own body. Which was when he took a spear blade to the gut for his troubles. Sarah barely suppressed a scream as she tried to hide behind the counter, frantically dialing her son. She barely got a few sentences out before another soldier noticed her and raised his blast-spear. Barely managing to pull the phone from her head, it was blasted into ash and plastic chunks from her left hand, leaving her with severe burns on that limb. Now crying due to fear and pain, yet glaring at the soldiers, she rushed over to her husband. The leering one just laughed, while the imperious-looking commander walked toward them, a blast-sword sheathed at his side, hands clasped behind his back. He regarded them for a moment, before nodding. “Make them examples.” Others screamed as the Hughes were dragged outside, Albert barely conscious with the pain and blood loss, Sarah reaching for him from the grasp of the soldier holding her. They were dumped on the pavement outside, the other civilians herded by the Atlanteans for prisoners, or who knew what else. Slowly, with pomp and circumstance, the commander of this large group of soldiers drew his own weapon, the sword gleaming with strange, arcane light glowing from sigils that seemed to surge with even more light. “Filthy surfacer scum, this is what you get for resisting us!” But before he could fire, four large, padded packages dropped on top of several of his troops. The blue wrapping dissolved to show unconscious Atlanteans, alive but battered (much like the men they’d landed on). Sarah, who was trying to apply pressure to Albert’s wound, suddenly smiled viciously at the commander. “Why are you smiling, surfacer wo-” And then a meteor of blue fire slammed into the back of one of the three crab-like tanks standing nearby, treating the barely-visible shields like tissue paper and tearing the glowing engine block and and radiators from its many-legged body. A blue-flame-clad arm reached out and casually tore a leg from the body, metal shrieking in protest as it was treated like so much paper. That detached leg slammed into the vehicle, pinning it to the ground, where the owner of the arm stepped up on the wrecked body, next to the oddly-modern-looking turret. The huge figure wrapped in blue fire reached down and tore the gun turret from the tank, shaking it to dislodge the vehicle’s gunner-commander, and leaving the driver blinking up stupidly at him. The blue figure, whose flames slowly were compacting, reached down and threw the pilot out by the collar to impact his crewmate, rendering them both largely insensate. The figure stood there, the flames coalescing from the feet upward along his body to form shining blue plate armor, a dark red cape flapping behind him in the breeze, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes twin points of blue flame within his gleaming helmet. It was Cobalt Templar, the Sapphire Champion of Freedom! The people brightened, and Sarah Hughes smiled in pride. The Atlantean commander snarled and pointed his sword. “KILL HIM!” “Your mistake.” The blue-clad fire-slinging paragon blurred into motion, bowling over most of the troops as he slammed bodily into the next tank, the impact bending the gun barrel and tearing half the legs off, and leaving the crew senseless. This allowed CT to pick the entire tank up and throw it at the final war machine, breaking two legs on that vehicle and sending it stumbling back. Before the crew could try to re-orient, he was tearing the gun barrel from the front of the tank before punching it so hard to crashed to the ground in a tangle of broken legs. When he turned to the foot troops who were still standing, they all looked at each other, before throwing their blast-spears to the ground and running. A couple of subtle nods from his mother saw Templar singling out the soldier who stabbed his father and blasted his mother, and the one who had manhandled her and leered at her. He caught them almost simultaneously by their collars, flying back to the area with the wrecked tanks. Each of them quailed in fear at the look upon his face, and each was buried a few inches into the street surface by his chokeslams. There they lay, breathing shallowly and completely unconscious. “Look out!” Even as one of the other bystanders cried out, Cobalt Templar was plastered with a large energy blast, sending him flying face-first into one of the wrecked tanks. At which point he simply peeled himself off of the tank and turned around, a snarl on his face, to see the commander sealing himself inside an armored suit that looked like a 12-foot-tall bronze statue of Poseidon, complete with a trident spewing cracking energy from its tips. “Die you pitiful ‘hero’, die!” Cobalt Templar simply swatted the next blast into the sky where it dissipated. He continued to glare at the Atlantean even as his body was enveloped in blue fire that left him wearing an ornate set of “powered” armor that let him match the size of the undersea warrior’s own equipment. At which point he sped through the air and grabbed the suit’s weapon, cracking it over his knee. The commander tried to flee. “I’m not finished with you!” Cobalt Templar almost roared this out before grabbing the bronze mini-mech’s arms and pulling. For a few moments, they just stood there, before the magitech suit simply shredded around the commander, who fell to the ground and started scrambling away. He didn’t make it far, Templar’s over-sized hand wrapping around his head, muffling his scream of terror as he was slammed against a tank a couple of times before being slam-punched into the ground hard enough to leave a crater. The deeds done, Cobalt Templar turned to the civilians. “Everyone get to shelter, I’ll get the wounded out of here, try to keep your heads down.” Everyone there nodded and ran off, while the blue giant shrank to his normal size, before carefully collecting Albert and Sarah up, constructing special harnesses for them to fly with him, and covering over Albert’s wounds. “Hang on, this will be windy.” In a blur, they were at a hospital, and Corbin had to fight to keep himself from showing more emotion as they were taken in by over-worked medical personnel. Even as his construct-armor automatically cleaned itself of his father’s blood. He turned, taking to the sky again. The war wasn’t over.

Gabriel What It Liked Was Destruction It was a chilly but normal February day right up until several roars from things that were not only not normal near Freedom College, but no normal on the surface world at all, split the air. The students milling about started to panic, and then the screaming started as several large monsters turned down the nearby street and started heading for the (largely decorative) wall and gate assembly. The creatures had a vaguely humanoid torso and arms, but some of the larger ones (about 15 feet tall-ish) had four arms instead of two. All of their heads were inhuman, sporting various iterations of “beady eyes and lots of sharp, pointy teeth”. And all of them sported a lower body that resembled some sort of nightmare hell-octopus, huge sinuous limbs bearing “small” claws and toothed suckers, tearing up the asphalt of the streets and crushing cars and motorcycles left along the road. People ran screaming from their grasping, clawed hands as they raced forward, chasing and snapping in the air. They resembled nothing so much as the most stereotypical image of hunting dogs, crossed with octopi, a couple dozen reptiles, and possibly Hell. ‘Probably not demons’, thought Gabriel to himself as he took a moment to take stock of the situation, his very presence floating there in the air giving some of the people below hope. After all, he wasn’t just any hero, he was their hero, having long protected the areas of Freedom around the College. Plus, he was on the League! No way things would get too bad with him there! The beasts, Kraken-spawn going by the reports flowing through his communicator, spotted him and roared a challenge. Gabriel just smirked and raised his hands. “Hark! Hark! Deep sounds, and deeper still!” A blast of sound knocked two of the creatures back. “Are howling on a mountain’s bosom! There’s not a breath of wind upon the hill!” Four more are at least slowed by further blasts, and the rest are bunching up. “Yet quivers every leaf, and drops each blossom! Earth groans, as if beneath a heavy load!” Suddenly, the entire group roars in pain as one by one they are blasted with sound waves that make their skin and muscle feel like it’s falling apart. Gabriel is still sky-bound, leaving them grasping for ways to make it stop already. Suddenly, the initial blasts returned, even fiercer. One of the beasts was blasted so fiercly it just fell down, the life leaving its body. “The thunder!” Three of the kraken-spawn, the smallest ones, suddenly began waving their limbs about in a frenzied, fearful rage, turning on themselves and quickly leaving none of them active. “That deep and dreadful pipe-organ pronounced the name of Prospero!” Two more of the small ones turned on a big one, which survived but with a couple of missing tentacle-legs, spitting blood and worse. The street clean-up would be a nightmare, but there would be people to clean it up. “It did bass my trespass!” A near-constant stream of sound swept over the remaining beasts, and left only two whole and the wounded one, which limped down the street away from the fight. Gabriel paid it no mind, instead choosing to summon his shining spear. “I arise today, through the strength of heaven!” The spear flashed, driving the first kraken-spawn back in caution, before scoring a wound on the other. “Light of sun!” A parry of a tentacle, a quick hit placed just so. “Brilliance of moon!” A stab, one that left an arm hanging limply. “Splendor of fire!” A battering assault with the butt of the spear, leaving the other spawn blind for precious moments. “Speed of lightning!” Sound blasted the lamed one back, letting him focus on the blinded one that was thrashing about. “Swiftness of wind!” He took to the air, rising up and pointing his spear down at the beast. “Depth of sea!” A veritable wall of sound ensured the creature would never menace another college student again. “Stability of earth!” He fell like lightning from the sky, his spear-point striking true on the angry, lamed beast of the depths, its limbs tensing for a moment before flopping down limply to the ground, never to move again. “Firmness of ro-urk!” He was suddenly wrapped in three separate tentacles, his spear mere inches away from him, inches that might as well have been miles. The last kraken-spawn had snuck up on him, and was now bringing him closer and closer to its mashing jaws even as its clawed paws tried to find purchase on his blessed armor. Gabriel narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he drew in a breath, bringing in more and more air, his lungs expanding until near-bursting. Then he let it all out at once in a shout that cracked windows for two blocks, and left him floating in front of a slowly-collapsing headless carcass. He regarded the animal’s remains with indifference, part of him sad it came to such force, but most of him glad no students had suffered. And hey, he hadn’t even gotten seriously maimed, Stesha would be so proud of him. Hm. Probably time to make a call. “This is Gabriel to the Lighthouse, what’s the overall situation….”

Knowledge, Arcane Lore: 14. I'll go ahead and burn that new HP to reroll: 23.

Hm. What about if I tried rolling KN (Arcane Lore) or (Theo & Phil), or Perform (Acting) or (Oratory)? To try putting myself in the mindset of "communicating concepts with prose/meter and verse"?

Gabriel closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and floated a few inches into the air, and then began slowly moving forward, clearly putting most of his attention elsewhere. "I'm going to see what I can pick up from inside the dome. Give me a few moments, please." With that, he listened. His hearing expanded in a way that always gave him a bit of a rush, but was also overwhelming if his control wasn't ironclad. He quickly pared down the "target area", focusing as best as he could on the can't-miss-it-big dome in the distance, straining to pick up any useful conversations. Or really, any conversations.

Okay, so Gabriel's gonna turn on his "Far-Hearing, The Tongues of Men & Angels, Ventriliquism" power in his Array (Communication, Comprehend, Super-Senses). Then, he's going to try and see if he can hear and understand any conversations inside the dome of energy, within his 20-mile range. Notice Check: 20. EDIT: As a reminder, though the power itself says this too, his super-hearing only picks up speech, not "every sound ever".

Right so! We're going to have....hm. 3-4 sites, depending on how things go. You all can pick from any of the following to start at; we'll assume you hashed it out IC, and I'll post in the IC thread to set the scene. -High end electronics warehouse -High-rise office -Upper middle class home -Storefront on a lower-income area street (I'll pick districts later, just giving broad brush strokes for now!)

Headmistress Summers gives Matt a slight smile and a nod at his questions about the badges and comms, electing to let the intelligent young people connect those particular dots. She took in their overall mood, electing to let some things lie for the time being. Raina's question did deserve an answer, though. "You are encouraged to wear your own personal costumes, but if you deem it necessary you are free to wear the school uniforms instead. This exercise is ultimately more about you than the school." She glanced down at a couple of papers for a few moments, before looking back at the students. "The various sites and their addresses are in your folders. You can examine them in whichever order you prefer, just please let the Raven know which one. She may or may not stop by during your examination, but she requests you check in occasionally, as she's taking responsibility for watching over you this evening. Now, unless you have any further questions...?" And with that, the meeting wraps up! To Be Continued!

Thoughtspeed had had to hold back his laughter for, like, half the race so far. Not because he thought the other racers were funny; Hyperactive was definitely keeping them on their toes, and for all the truth to his boasts of being faster than his father, Will had to acknowledge the sheer experience his father had. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, if he could help it. Can't ruin his image, see. He kept running, letting his brain's incredible speed keep him from tripping on roots and rocks as they went off-road. Instead of constantly pushing himself faster and faster, he elected to maintain a speed that was still supersonic, but well below his maximum, and occasionally use bursts of speed to move over, under, around, or even through obstacles, depending on what they were made of. All in the name of showing off, and maybe putting Hyperactive just a touch off-base.

Will had just started to relax a bit at his mother's mental comforts, when the Other Richard mentioned Parker Psion. At those comments, he tensed again, just a bit physically, and quite a bit more mentally. ~I still don't trust this guy, Mom. I don't like the sound of any of this. And what do we do with Bryant? We can't drag him out into the field with us!~ Physically, Will turned toward Phantom. "If we're going looking, I need to change." Without waiting for permission from anyone, he was a blur upstairs. Just a few seconds later, he blurred back downstairs, now dressed in a padded and layered suit that was primarily black, but with glowing green highlights. The domino mask actually blurred his facial features and cheekbones pretty well, but did nothing to disguise the light scowl on his face. "Right. So who is actually going on this little trip?"

Well if this thread's name is anything to go by, Sun Walker might be the man for the job. Ape for the job. Man-ape for the job.

Will tensed at both the words and touch of his mother, but within an eye-blink of this...other Richard...seemed to stand down, his own energy blades were gone, and within three eye-blinks, he was standing at the foot of the stairs dressed in actual clothes, his arms crossed and his expression surly. "What do you mean, 'flatscan Wisconson'? Do you have more than one state named Wisconsin where you're from?" His tone was terse but calm, his mother's immediate presence helping him steady his emotions, even as he sent her as much comfort as he could over their psychic connection.

~Phantom is here. She showed up out of nowhere. Something about alternate dimensions. Makes as much sense as a shapeshifter or whatever.~ In a couple of eye-blinks Will is at the stairs, still facing the living room, seemingly both guarding the stairs and preparing to head up them. ~But I'm not going to let this guy hurt you. Nobody comes after my family, especially not in our house.~ Paige was all but assaulted by a flood of images, all of them memories of Will's desperate fight against high-end mercenaries in this very home, on the night when Paige and Richard had been off keeping the world safe from the Communion. The night Will had almost died. That his sister had almost been taken. ~Do you still want evac now that Phantom's here?~ Finally, he spoke out loud. "This guy busted into our house and started ranting about getting to his wife. Naturally I moved to protect my family from some violent psychopath. Can you just, I dunno, kick him back home, Phantom?"

I feel like, if we offer more than 1 option, the Father's Day and Icons ones fit together well. They're similar ideas, and that gives a bit wider range of ideas without jumping to the much more tonally different "The End" idea (which I like!).

Well, I guess the Father's Day one has some appeal in particular, just due to timing. The others could come up later on!

"I didn't ask who or what you looked like. I don't care whose face you stole, I know you're not who you look like, so tell me why you're here, now!" When the vicious impostor mentioned "his wife", Will tensed up further, his grip on the two swords shifting, and his stance moving to a slightly more defensive posture. "I'm not letting you within ten feet of my mother. You won't ever touch her." ~Mom I don't know what's going on but this guy freaks me out. He looks like Dad but sounds nothing like him. And I don't like how he's talking about me standing between him and you.~ Will was almost vibrating in place at this point, though another speedster wouldn't find it difficult to ignore the blurring effect. "Leave now and there's no trouble. We didn't pick a fight with you, jackass. You're the one that busted down our door, and I for one am sick of violent jackwads breaking into our house!"