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Found 38 results

  1. Verity Warren sat in her chair by the fireplace and felt herself getting older. It was a subtle, creeping thing - a poison working slowly through her body, killing her. Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, Verity was dying. They all were. Well, most of them, anyway. Immortals had their own problems. But Verity Warren had more pressing problems than age. More pressing indeed. ”Have the candidates arrived yet, Cobalt?” ”No, ma’am.” Cobalt stood by the fireplace, posture as ramrod-straight as a coat rack, and checked a pocket watch. “The doors will open in ten minutes precisely.” Verity nodded, trusting him to manage all that. This blasted house… it had been bad enough before the Forgery. Now, after all the damn chaos of the world falling back into its previous pattern, Verity had a rather terrible problem on her hands. There was something very, very wrong with Wickwillow Manor. It was growing, and growing things were hungry things. She had sent out the notice a week ago; it has been Cobalt’s idea, and a good one too. That had been after Willa had gone missing on the third floor. The poor maid had just gone off to change the sheets in the spare bedroom. They still hadn’t found her - or the spare bedroom. What they had found was… well. Not what someone wished to find in their house. Luckily, Verity still had enough staff left to keep this small section of Wickwillow running. The kitchen, the front parlor, the small dining room and one hallway of bedrooms seemed to behave normally. It was the rest of the house that kept changing itself. Adding, removing, scrambling… and the new house guests. So many. Usually not the sort one invited on purpose. She put that from her mind. The parlor had been set for guests, and soon perhaps she’d have the group she needed for this task. By every god she hoped she would. Then maybe she could stave off death a little longer. Delay him. Outwit him. At the very least, outwit this damned house. ”Go open the doors, Cobalt,” Verity said, feeling the weight of years pressing on her soul. “No point in keeping them waiting. Or us. It’s time we got this problem fixed.” Cobalt looked at her for a long moment, then inclined his head and strode from the room. He stepped quickly over thick carpet that turned to marble once he entered the main hall. Then, with a short sigh, he opened the front door. @mathiau @Ookla the Quark @Ookla the Nerdy @[email protected] the Headmuncher
  2. It was strange, so very strange, in the land where the gods dwelt. A fell wind mournfully wove it's way through the air, as dark clouds painted forlorn landscapes against the horizon. The wind had a subtle chill to it that would slowly work it's way through everything, unnoticed till it gnawed at your bones. It was a lonely wind for a lonely land, and they suited each other well. But the wind was not the strangest part. The air was wrong here. It was thick, like water as you wade through it. It felt as if it offered resistance to those who passed through it, slowing steps and pushing against progress. At times it seemed to stretch and warp, like a tower in a hurricane. At times you could see glimpses of another world, flashing in the air like light off a falling glass. There would be a moment of perfect clarity, of total comprehension. And then like a glass, it would reach the floor and shatter. The reflections in those shards were of memories, lives, histories that perhaps never were.But the air was not the strangest part. For among the wind and the air and the reflections of ghosts, were two figures. One a survivor of the temporal genocide, the other it's perpetrator. There, before his great work, was the One-eyed god. The Stranger was transfigured, transformed by the power and the will he had channeled to rewrite the world, and warped by a thousand ideas of what he had been. He had grown, body stretching and expanding to huge proportions, taller than any man. His limbs were too long, his fingers had too many joints. His grey lab coat had become a ragged robe, with wide, drooping sleeves and many folds that all seemed to trail off into smoke. The spikes in his body had elongated, with their tips emerging like metallic spines from all over. Along his spine they formed a grisly ridge, and they emerged from his head in a mockery of a crown. His face was gaunt, cheekbones like blades sheathed within the skin, and his grin would give a crocodile nightmares. Across his exposed skin tiny spikes formed symbols and images, eerie tattoos of metal. His thick afro had become a wild mane, the black interspersed with silver, making him look ragged as his robe. And his eyes. His left eyespike had become a lance through his skull, runes and glyphs carved all along it's surface where it jutted out of his skull a good 20 centimetres on each side of his head. And his right eye had become a well of the Void. The dark ocular swirled and oozed, dripping inky black tears that ran down the side of his face and evaporated into smoke. They had called him a dark god, the true abomination of the Alleys. And so he had become that which they proclaimed him to be. He stared into the swirling air and beheld it all, grinning as he passed a hand through an after image, causing it to dissipate into light. He watched the lights for a moment, then turned his gaze outward. His expression seemed distant, like one who looked on something far away, and he spoke. "He suspects nothing. It all fits, it all makes sense." His voice was the stillness of a forest that had been ravaged by fire, it was the deepness of the sea where light can not reach. "Time continues to pass, and he only grows more comfortable. He knows not what he has been given, but he cannot but treasure the joy of restoration. Not only that," He turned to his sole companion and his grin was almost friendly, "but the city is at peace. There is no guild war, there are no abominations roaming the streets, the DA keep their work quiet and everyone is content. We have made the peace your guild sought for so long. But what do I know of peace, I'm only a scientist blinded by ambition. Isn't that right, Sudiov?" @Voidus
  3. It's a quiet night in Alleycity. For the last few months, all it's been are quiet nights. The days of heroes fighting spiked demons and ancient abominations are over, and the heroes won. New guilds have sprung up where the old ones fell, and the Big 3: the Ghostbloods, DA, and TUBA, remain ever-present in the public consciousness, working in the background, never drawing too much attention to themselves. And why should they? Times are good. The economy is booming. And for once in its tumultuous history, Alleycity seems to be at peace. Good for you. You were always someone who stood out from the rest, either through your Investiture, your tools or your personality. In a world of NPCs (), you itch for adventure, wish that you hadn't been born too early to fight evil. Maybe it was the drinks that attracted you. Maybe it was the thought that you'd meet a special someone. Or maybe you just had nothing else to do on this quiet night. No matter the reason, come midnight and you find yourself in one of Alleycity's many entertainment venues, surrounded by bustling nightlife chatter, the clinking of bottles and the deep bass rumblings of the jukebox in the corner. Maybe you're seated at the bar trying to con a mark, or perhaps you're watching the live-entertainment from an out-of-the-way table. That's when it happens. "Oh - hey!" "What's he doing?" "Get off the stage!" A thin man with wide eyes clambers onto the stage and lurches for the head musician's microphone. There's a high-pitched squeal from the speakers as he snatches it from the singer and tweaks the setting. The music abruptly stops. People start yelling at them. The man ignores them and grasps the microphone with trembling hands. "I - I need to warn you," he says, his voice amplified by the mic. "You have no idea what's coming. Please! I need to say this before they -" The bouncers begin climbing onto the stage, but their work is cut out for them when something small flies out of the shadows and into the man's neck, dropping him. A figure clad in black can be seen in the corner, holding some sort of ranged weapon, and they run to try and escape the building. Screams begin to erupt, and some people begin to rush out of the building. To them, their bubble of safety is popping. For you, however... maybe this a chance to be like the heroes you once heard about. To utilize your skills, to have an adventure, and - if you fancy yourself good enough - to solve this midnight mystery. Once and for all. Now... what do you do next?
  4. At the end of an Alleyway, a nondescript building a haphazard sign hung above the door. Anarchy Incorporated Bringing down organisations Inside the building, there is a desk, and behind that desk, there is a swivel chair that spins around to reveal a person wearing a dark brown trenchcoat, scuffed boots, a feathered tricorne hat, a faded scarf, hobo gloves, and a black cloak. The outfit would have looked strange on anyone else, but somehow this individual pulled it off. A metal nameplate indicates that this person is named "The Anarchist".
  5. The city was alive. The thought crossed her mind while she walked through the streets, all around her laughing, celebrating people. The streets seemed to glow in the light of the lampions hanging everywhere, their shapes and sizes varying with the people that had hung them up. She knew there would be fires in the larger and smaller places, carefully watched by a few who had offered to keep an eye on the flames. A tiny smile touched her lips as she allowed herself to be swept along by the crowd moving towards one of the larger places nearby. They all had spent the day inside, had considered the last year, had pondered over mistakes had decided on things they wanted to do in the future. But now, now the time for silence, for quiet thoughtfullness was over. Now it was time to celebrate, to forget about the past for a moment, about the wars and the destruction that had happened so regularly for the past years. She could feel it, could see it in the faces, in the eyes of those around her. Tonight was dedicated tp the present. Tonight they were alive. She stopped in front of a stall and bought herself a drink that smelled like a mixture of lemon and kiwi and then continued, walked along the street, her face carefully hidden behind a green mask depicting a spren. Nearly everybody wore them, some faces easy to recognize despite their unusual adornment, others completely anonymus behind larger, more complicated ones. She saw the old figures of myth, the old gods of this world, new heros of the movies, creatures from all the worlds that came together in this place, some so weird she had no idea what or who they were supposed to represent. Despite the pleasant, festivious mood she kept her eyes open, couldn't quite suppress her instinct to look for a threat, to make sure nobody was trying to use the situation for their benefit. She couldn't see anybody, saw no sign of anything that tipped her off, but she allowed herself her awareness, didn't try to stop her eyes from covertly roaming over the crowd now and then. It had saved her live more often than not and she saw no reason to stop. When she stepped onto the place, she could see the fire burning in the middle, hear the music of some that had brought their instruments and played a quick dance. The city was alive, she was alive. And tonight, tonight she would celebrate, she would maybe meet new people, tonight her white hair would be part of a costume and not mark her as a freak. For once her red eyes, changed to crystals by years spend soulcasting, could be mistaken for a special set of contact lenses. Althea took a sip of her drink and looked around, the tiny smile still touching her lips. Tonight was a good night. One she had looked forward to for months.
  6. alleyverse

    Giving the thumbs up to his assistant. Mac flipped the switch. Suddenly, the Dor flooded the Cognitive realm of his store, powering Aons engraved in the steel. Hopefully people buy our stuff. Mack's voice came out of the back of his mind. Don't worry about it. Mac replied. People are going to love us. Probably. Plus we have contracts with most major guilds. But what if they riot? That's what got me kicked off of sel. With the defenses we put in? There is no way that any attack could hurt us. You could not have had a better person commandeer you mind and build your store. I'm still mad about that. I don't care. Mac walked around the room, inspecting the counter and items on display. Anything that could actually be used was locked in the vault, these were on display to allow people to see if they could be used. If the balance was right, the shape was good for there fighting style. He walked to the front door and put out the open sign. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the Craftsmen Guild. Our goal is to provide invested objects, weapons, defenses etc. to any who have the money. We aren't neutral as a guild, but provide the same prices to anyone, and wont turn you away because of your membership in other guilds. If you provoke violence on the premise, then you will be removed and any guild you are a part of will be refused service for a week. (BTW, I am convinced that the Ghostbloods exist as an entity, so if any GB's provoke violence, none of the others can by stuff for a week.) All products are patented. If you resell them without telling me who you sell it to, or if you copy them without my permission, then you will bring my wrath upon you. Delivery will take a day, I will PM you when the product is delivered. All products are listed with their base price, customization is optional but will cost more. More products will be released as time goes on, and as I get new ideas. If you wish to join the guild just PM me, and I will add you to the list of Craftsmen. NOTE: Because of the large numbers of acolytes that I have, I don't need grunts or members that don't do anything. I am only accepting Craftsmen. They will specialize in a field and create new products. I will require them to tell me where their loyalties lie through PM (Don't worry, it wont be publicly revealed) and what they want to specialize in. Craftsman of Weaponry, Store owner - @MacThorstenson Craftsman of Apparel - @Merrickz Craftsman of Defense - Craftsman of Fabrials - @Mister Craftsman of Glass - @Kidpen Craftsman of Invested Items, owner of ferujewls - @Kaj Current weapons available. Miscellaneous. Self defense: Apparel: Base defense:
  7. She was early. Zokora nearly cursed herself for not having taken the time to change into something else but her costume, but it was too late now. She had hurried to the Archives, had only taken the time to stuff her mask into her bag, not bothering to change into something more suitable for work. Her skin crawled when she imagined the looks at her cloths, probably everybody else would change first before coming here – despite being a member for nearly two years now, she still felt a bit left out at times. She knew many didn’t trust her, suspect she was nothing but a spy, when she was only looking for a place where she belonged, where she could live in peace and do something that was worth her time. The report. She didn’t know what it contained, probably classified. Or she had simply been left out as happened so often. Let her find out on her own, she was just an unwelcome addition and there were times when she wondered why she was even here. She could have stayed, done her job, it couldn’t have been worse than this. But it had been. And so, after long conversations with Althea, after deciding if it was worth the risk she had left. Had sworn an oath to keep silent about what she knew and had left. And surprisingly nobody had removed her so far. Her eyes moved over to the thick, Aon covered door that lead down into the Archives was, that whatever was waiting down below was dangerous. Dangerous enough that they had decided to call her in to that mission. A stoneward tended to be helpful when facing an uncertain situation. She leaned against a nearby wall and crossed her arms. As soon as the rest of the team had arrived they could start their descent. She had been told that they would need to pass by the first three floors. These were the ones that were used most regularly. Everything below though. She had heard that it was a maze, staircases and huge rooms, leading deep into the soil beneath the city. If there had been a map, it was lost, or at least it hadn’t been shown to her. She had never been down there before, only heard the stories about weird things taking place down there. About creatures and secrets that had been hidden for so long they had forgotten they even existed. Excitement rose like a flower inside of her chest. Excitement and hope. Maybe she could finally prove herself, show them that she was trustworthy.
  8. A little shop. Above the door, a wooden sign subduedly claims: The Silbershire Don't break anything or face our wrath Don't presume to know what something will do Something leaves the shop unpaid, and it will be forcefully retrieved If you can't find something, talk to the clerk, I will get you anything for a price Don't even dare bring fire into the shop, if you value breathing. The inside of the shop is not much better organized than the alley outside. Disorderly and crammed with outlandish inventions, it is a place of nooks and crannies, where everything seems part of a single, big and awkward body of wood and metal. Through the maze-like confines of the shop, stands a desk. Behind the desk is Lord-son-son-son-Silberfarben.
  9. There is, tucked into a small pocket of an alley, a garden. This garden is normally quite lush as berry bushes and large flowers have grown around each other in a spiral of natural beauty. But lately, a snarl has faded. A patch of brown has begun to spread, for reasons unknown, but the evidence is stark against the otherwise green vibrance. Not many people have noticed, for this pocket park gets few visitors, but one noticed. And still the deadspot grows. @Rushu42
  10. Dusk returned from his field trip. The tower was done. As a matter of fact, the 50 meter tall wall around the base was done to. The lifless had also set up several thousand tents and sheds across the top, and had started turning the watchtower into more of a castle. Maybe telling them, "Finish this place" was to unclear of an instruction? Well it worked. It looked an awful lot like a city, actually. The fiend returned. Dusk saw an eagle fly away from the docking release hatch. No matter. He had the lifeless remove the cannon and set it up over the watchtower, on a support system. It would be an anti-massive-over-powered-walker gun. He called the precursors, and told them that they were to police his city. Free labor is always nice. He posted an add on the Alleyzon add service. Citizens Wanted. He waited a bit, and had a large group of civilians at his door in a week. The citadel city was officially open! Hello! This is where all the Great game stuff will continue. It is a small city, and has a large amount of ores, and other resources coming out of it for commerce. Soon it will be massive interlocking multi floored city, but for now it is a very large town. Come and enjoy our massive bar, hotel, park, and stuffs. The admission test is below. Exposition Groups Citadel Construction Log Public Dusk Experiments Citadel Code of Laws
  11. Deveraux Dufor casually stabbed backwards with his sword, a nice steel long-sword, to kill an eldritch abomination. He had heard it coming towards him for the past ten minutes at least, stalking closer and closer, sniffing him out with, with what he now saw as he turned towards it, an unnatural 37 nostrilled nose. Seriously, it was like an over-sized trunk or shaft of flesh, with 37 holes in it. But enough of that. Deveraux, or Storm, as more people knew him, continued to stride purposely through the shifting Alleyways. He'd spent a lot of time here in the past twenty-odd years, and he was quite used to it's rules by now. Though, that didn't diminish the danger. Even now, his compounded tin hearing let him know that there were a multitude of other creatures all around him. Now, he was sure he'd come far enough, any moment now... abruptly his surroundings changed, and he was standing somewhere outside the walls of Alleycity. Yes, he was where he wanted to be. Rusts he thought, looking up at the walls, This place has changed so much. He’d sworn he wouldn’t come back here. Sworn to never return to this place of Memories. Somewhere in those walls, was where he’d had himself stripped away. Swing had thought he was ready, but.. Harmony, Swing. He fell to his knees. Not Here, damnation it. He was shaking, by Preservation’s wings, he was shaking. This is why I swore to never come back here. But he’d had too. Once he’d heard of the state of TUBA. The memories passed, and he picked himself up. He sheathed his sword, and walked along the walls for a time, until he was approaching the gates. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, and pulled on his hood. As he made his way into Alleycity proper, he looked around at the buildings. Many of them seemed.. alien. He’d seen the beginnings pf skyscrapers in Elendel, sure. But the buildings here were sleeker, and reflective; like towers of glass. So much had changed. Despite the changes, the streets themselves were still familiar enough, even after all this time. Deveraux made his way to the TUBA headquarters, which, while still in the same location, was several stories taller. Offhandedly, he wondered if the old Terminals were still in use. He opened the door, walking up to the reception desk to find an aging man sitting leafing through a magazine. He thought he recognized the man, hadn’t he been involved with the creatin of the Terminals, actually? What was his name though, Gared maybe? Yes, his nametag confirmed. Gared looked up from his reading. “Can I help you?” He asked evenly, in a somewhat gravelly tone. “Yes,” Deveraux replied. “I need to speak with Deteca, immediately.” Gared looked surprised. “Oh, well.. er.. you’ll have to fill out some paperwork before you can--” he cut off. He seemed to finally be taking in the man standing in front of him. Deveraux lowered his hood. “St-Storm!?” Gared stammered. “I’d prefer if you called me Deveraux, but yes. It’s me.” He replied flatly. “I, uh—right. Of course. I’ll get a message to Deteca right away!” Gared pulled a small mobile from his pocket, and tapped the screen in a manner that made Deveraux dizzy. He’d of course heard of and seen mobiles before. They were like complex and advanced spanreeds. They had existed for a good number of years now, but had not been prevalent in Alleycity until the “towers” that powered them had been erected. Regardless, He would probably need to take advantage of them. His plans.. well, he’d get to that when he came to it. Shortly, an assistant came and lead him to an elevator, which shot downwards. They disembarked, and made their way through several winding hallways, to a smaller meeting room. Now he would just have to wait until Deteca arrived.
  12. >> Welcome to the A.C.E. Records Database. Please enter qualifications. --------- Deb Stancel closed her laptop and rubbed at her temples, squinting into the bottom of her cup and wrinkling her nose at the light dusting of coffee grinds sitting there. She glanced at her watch - a real watch, none of those absurd fabrial devices some Rosharans swore by - and sighed. Half-past nine. With one final glance at her watch, Deb rose from her desk and tugged at the end of her uniform jacket. It was a deep olive green with orange trim, and it matched her pants. Indeed, it matched nearly everything in her cramped little office, as was fitting. This was Alleycity Excavation, and those were Alleycity Excavation's colors. If she was lucky, she'd find a few more competent souls to pad ACE's ranks today, and a few more orange and green coveralls would get churned out for them. No such thing as luck, she reminded herself, smoothing her hair as she rounded the desk and headed for the door. She needn't have bothered; her hair was already as smooth as a sheet of ice, her bun a perfect ring of blonde. A place for everything, and everything in its place. That was how things got done - that was efficiency. And if Deborah Stancel was one thing, she was efficient. She slid a clipboard and pencil off the end of her desk before turning the knob on her door and walking out into the hallway. People scurried this way and that, accountants, engineers, pencil-pushers. They bobbed their heads to her as she passed them, and she returned each nod with one of her own. Smaller, of course, but still. Decorum was to be rewarded. Everything in its place. As she neared the large meeting room at the end of the hall, she spied Farren, one of her assistants. He gave her a deep nod, then straightened up to look her in the eyes. "Ma'am," he said briskly, awaiting her reply. The corner of her mouth quirked up just a bit. "Good morning Farren. Has anyone arrived yet?" "Not yet, Ma'am," Farren said. "Though, it is only nine thirty. The recruitment ad specified a ten o'clock start time." "Nine thirty-six, to be precise," Deb corrected. "It is always important to be precise, Farren. Still," she said, catching him before he could apologize, "you are right. Arriving too early is inefficient. Let us wait then, and see who has answered our call." Farren looked at her, a question in his eyes, though he did not voice it aloud. Deb sniffed a little. "Speak, then. I can practically hear you thinking." Her assistant blushed a bit, but did as he was told. "Waiting, well, it just seems a bit... dramatic for you, Ma'am." Deb raised an eyebrow at Farren, almost cracking a true smile at the young man. "Contrary to popular opinion, Farren, I am human. Allow me this one failing." Farren blushed deeper and cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should go in and, um, wait for you then, Ma'am. Let the applicants know what to expect. If... if, um, that's alright with you, of course." Deb jerked her chin at the door. "Best not to keep them waiting then," she said, and watched as the young man slipped gratefully into the meeting room. She would have laughed, but then, it was not the time for laughter. Not here, not now. Not with what was at stake. Whatever is down there, we'll need all our wits about us. All the wits we can get. Laughter was for later. For now, she waited.
  13. era 4

    OP credit goes to @Ookla the Very Handsome (Ark1002), @Ookla the Aleatory (Silva), @Ookla the Wine Shelf (Darth Woodrack) A A figure knelt on the top of a rooftop, a hulking mass covered in a hoodie made out of five wolf pelts. In each of its hands rested a massive knife, with ridges, serrated edges, indents, anything to make the stab as painful as possible. A small (comparatively) backpack adorned its back. Crow looked up, smiling grimly. The Acute's were too well protected to kill or take- for now. So she would do something the Marines and the Acute's wouldn't expect. She was going to take their cousins, and do to them what she had done to the Acute's. Well, what Lord Hellbent had started. She was going to take them, enslave them, torture them. And while she was at it... she would kill the parents for the hell of it. She stalked to the edge of the roof, preparing to lower herself to the window. ~-~-~-~-~ S Silk Wered Pushed off a coin and onto the roof. She landed with just the slightest thump. It was a place she liked to go to think. The solitude was a nice contrast to the bustling sounds of inside the house. She loved her siblings, but sometimes she just needed a little silence. The sight of another person on the roof was not a pleasant one. For a moment, Silk wondered if one of the younger ones had gotten their hands on a ladder. That thought was quickly dismissed when she noticed the size of the person. And their attire. Weapons weren't allowed to lay around the house. There were specific places for them--the roof wasn't one of them. Silk still carried some with her. Her parents were fine with most things the older Wereds did, so long as it wasn't at the expense of the younger ones. She stayed silent, watching the person. If it came to it, Silk knew she could Push off and away. Something told her that leaving right then and there was a bad idea. --- On the back of the shade of the window Crow was preparing to enter there was a taped on note. The handwriting was crude and childish, printing the single word: Predictable. None of the Wereds even knew it was there. None of them had put it up. If asked, they would honestly say that they didn't know who had. Only one Acute knew about it and she had been hoping that it would never be read. ~-~-~-~-~ A Crow growled at the sight of it heartbeat, and leaned against the window heartbeat. She leaned back, thinking heartbeat. A bubbling rage filled her at the thought heartbeat of who might have done this heartbeat. Light heartbeat? Freedom heartbeat? Pri heartbeat?The storming space marines heartbeat? She let her hand fall into position heartbeat. A glimmering blade, flamelike, with a skull on each side of the hilt, and a glittering amythest on the bottom. She cleaved the window in half, and slipped into the room silently. It was the bedroom of the Wered parents. These two would die. She turned to the window, and pulled out her fabrial. It was a soulcaster, with only one gem remaining. She soulcast aluminum, transforming the window and the area around it into aluminum. Nobody would escape that way. She grinned, bloodlust filling her, and walked to the parents bed, silent steps. She stood over the bed, the image of death, a blade in hand, her face hooded and dark, and prepared to kill them. ~-~-~-~-~ S Rusts. Silk froze, watching the figure climb down and out of view. She burned steel, trying to track them. Four of her weaker lines vanished suddenly. What on Scadrial? How? It wasn't Allomancy meaning the intruder wasn't from nearby. But who would sneak over in the middle of the night? Who held a grudge? Oh. Of all the rusting ruin out there, this was one she knew they couldn't counter, if she was right. She sighed and pulled out her phone. --- Bened Wered woke to the sound of his phone buzzing. Not much could get through his "Do Not Disturb". He quickly opened it up, read it, then froze for just a moment. Then he jumped out of bed, not even bothering to put on slippers, downed a couple bottles of zinc, and ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, flaring his Rioting throughout the house. It was as fast a silent alarm clock he could manage. --- Sliding down to the lower rooftops, Silk saw the soulcast shut window. She swallowed, then slipped down through the window of Fog's bedroom. Bened's Rioting hit her immediately, alivening all her senses. The risk was real. The little one was fast asleep. She scooped her up and hurried across the hall to the twins. They too were asleep. Silk shook the two awake. The moment Horizon came to, slightly frightened from the Rioting, she motioned for her to burn bendalloy. "Stay quiet," she told them. "Mommy and Daddy might be in danger. I want you to get Branch then go with Bened down the stairs. Pick up the others on the way down. I'm going up." She sent another quick message on a family group chat, telling them the little she knew and was doing. --- Down on the first and second floors, the others were waking up. The Rioting had helped with that. On the upper most floor, a phone buzzed receiving Silk's message. It was locked and as such not readable, but it was a sign beyond the Rioting that people were awake. Chen Wered stirred at the sound. Hina woke abruptly from the sound, Bened's Rioting keeping her from falling back asleep. "What in Ruin's name do you want?" she asked as she sat up. She shook Chen then downed a vial of bronze. She began to burn it, knowing it wouldn't do much good. "Please don't say you want to kill us to pay for something someone did to you because that would be such an overused line and I at least don't want my death to be cliche. I mean, the whole sneaking in the night thing is already pretty predictable for villains, so I hope you're cleverer than you're looking. "Also don't say our worst nightmare. Or death. Or redeemer. Even if it's true. Give us that much respect. We obviously are connected to an important something that hurt you or you wouldn't have gone through all this bother to destroy a perfectly good window." At that point, Chen was also sitting up. "Good window," he said. "Did you know that it might have been around during the Final Empire? Hina, here, doubts it, but I believe so. The frame was held together with four iron nails. Iron. He uncapped a vial of bronze. "But seriously, if you're going to kill us, don't be predictable and do it in front of the kids. That's trite. Be your own person. Don't try to be like those over-the-top serial killers. You do you." Chen smiled. "Or just don't kill us. The blade seems to tell me you won't listen to reason, but it's worth a shot. "Killing doesn't accomplish anything. It'll just get more people mad at you and trying to kill you. If you don't kill us, everybody walks out of here happy." And sixteen people don't walk out of here orphans, he wanted to add. Hina shrugged. "Murder is bad. Bad is evil. Evil is death. Not death on your enemies, but your early death. No one is invincible, not even the strongest armor can protect a murderer." They knew anything they said wouldn't make a difference in what would happen. They said it nonetheless, though, hoping at least some words would haunt the figure in the future. ~-~-~-~-~ A Crow grinned. She liked it when they tried to talk their way out of it. It was even better than begging. And they had asked that she wasn't to say any of those things... so she wouldn't. Crow wouldn't say anything. Crow walked forward, her shardblade carving a line through the floor. Then her blade flashed up inhumanly fast, going through the parents. She chuckled darkly as their corpses fell, and turned. She would deal with them later, to make the message good. But for now... she had to get the kids. One of them had to have seen her on that roof. That's how they'd known she was there. Crow knew a little bit about the layout of the house. There was twins, and they were on the fourth floor. She walked above their room, and instead of taking the predictable route, cut a hole through the floor, falling through it silently, rolling and grabbing the ceiling before it could hit. She looked up, her eyes glowing darkly at the twins, at Silk, at Fog. "If you scream, I will slaughter the rest of your family." ~-~-~-~-~ S Honeed was flaring bronze, searching for active Allomancy in the house, her siblings watching her. "It's gone," she said, frowning. "They aren't burning anymore. There's no sign at all." Semb and Terra looked at each other. They all knew what it meant. Their parents were dead. ~-~-~-~-~ W The tattered one walked into the doorway, cackling. He shot a spike through the home phone as well as any other phones in the house, then sent spikes from his back to block the door. He then bellowed at the children, “Why hello there! Your parents are dead? Are you next? I certainly hope so!” ~-~-~-~-~ S The figure dropped down from the ceiling. Everything was shaping up pretty poorly. Now, Silk knew, the best case scenario was keeping all of them alive. "We weren't planning on it," Silk said, calmly holding Fog against her chest. The twins were hugging each other, showing all the terror she wished she could show. "Screaming would accomplish nothing. Instead, I'll just ask you some questions. First, what in Ruin's name do you want? And second, how do you plan on paying for structural damage repairs? It gets quite costly pretty fast." --- Bened dropped his flare to a more sustainable burn when he reached the fourth floor. He hurried over to Branch's room and picked up the two year old. The sound of Silk's voice told him that the threat was in the twins' room. Good. She'd hopefully be able to keep it preoccupied. He quickly descended the stairwell to the third floor. Fauna, Fild, Clove, and Laurel were all standing there waiting for him. From her stance, Bened could tell Laurel was burning pewter. He shook his head at her. No. Her face fell, but it didn't matter. His six year old sister was not getting involved. Quietly, he herded them down to the second floor. The triplets were there, pain apparent on their faces. They gave him a look that removed any doubt he had left. They were orphans. In silence they went to the first floor. It felt like retreat, leaving Silk, Fog, and the twins up there by themselves, but there was nothing else to do. Viness, Tanel, and Golda stood right by the stairs. Viness took Branch from him. "Fog, Horizon, and Moss?" Golda asked softly. Bened shook his head. "Silk's with them." She opened her mouth to respond as an unfamiliar voice rang throughout the house, following the sounds of destruction. "Why, hello there! Your parents are dead? Are you next? I certainly hope so!" Golda sighed. "Ground floor. And without Silk we've got no other way out but the front door." She pulled out a couple bottles of brass, then downed them. "Come with me, Fild. Let's try to stop this one through reason." Fild nodded and followed her after replenishing his own internal stores of Nicrosil. --- He was pretty hard to miss spotting--all out freaky ghost mode. Golda kept Fild behind her, out of sight. "Hello, there," she said in polite a voice as she could muster. "Would you like a cup of tea?" She flared brass as she spoke. The amount of Soothing was more than she'd ever attempted before, even against Bened's Rioting. She also knew that if Fild burnt nicrosil it would be even more for a moment. It would also rid her of all brass, but it would be a small price to pay. They just needed to clear a way out. And hopefully get Silk, Horizon, Moss, and Fog out too. One step at a time though. ~-~-~-~-~ W The Tattered One screamed and backed away bellowing, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU FILTHY CHILDREN!”! Before shooting a cloud of spikes at their legs. ~-~-~-~-~ A Crow grinned, and chuckled, her voice reverberating throughout the room. "If I need money, I could always sell one of your siblings into slavery. I bet a pair of twins would fetch a nice price..." Her shardblade begane carving the floor, scratching Aon Sheo into the floor. She stepped forward, leaving a line in the floor from the previous Aon Sheo, and began carving it again. She leaned down, and her huge hands shot out, grabbing Silk in one hand, one of the twins in the other. She pulled Silk and Fog toward her, and shoved the twin under her arm. She grabbed the other one. She shoved Silk under her arm, and ripped Fog from her. Crow grinned, and held Fog in one hand. Then she walked out of the room, to go downstairs. That was when she heard the scream. Dammit. She rushed down the stairs, squeezing Fog and the twins, hard enough it would bruise, and landed with a massive thump on the first floor. Crow growled deeply, her voice echoing down to the ground floor. "I warn you, child, that if you do not stop with the mind games, you will soon be cleaved in half." ~-~-~-~-~ S Golda and Fild ran up the stairs to avoid the spikes. "We need a new plan," she gasped out to the others. ~-~-~-~-~ W “Come here little children! I’m not going to hurt you! I just want to play,” He said, stalking towards the stairs. The last word was punctuated by him ramming spikes through the bottom of the stairs, destroying the stairs and the central support structure. ~-~-~-~-~ A Crow Blackice grinned in her hoodie, but it faded fast. She set them down, and straightened, her face dark. "Tattered One, block the door and don't hurt anything but legs and feet." She set down Silk and the twins, still holding Fog. She smirked, letting her hood fall. "That's twelve now. The other two must be the ones who caused the tattered one to scream. A nicrosil, and the soother or the rioter. I still can't remember which." She shook her head, and grinned darkly, her eyes glinting with barely restrained bloodlust. "We're going to go downstairs, and if any of you resist, I kill one of the twins." She turned as the stairs crashed. "Now you'll have to jump. Too bad." Crow reached forward, grabbing Branch from Vinness. "Don't worry, I'll take the littlest ones." Her muscles rippled as she leaned down, and breathed in Bened's face. "Now, all of you... JUMP." ~-~-~-~-~ W “Soother! And fine!” The Tattered one said before returning to the door frame, and spinning back around with spikes emerging from his shoulders and the rest of his body, “And of course I aimed for the legs! The should be on the first floor!” ~-~-~-~-~ S Horizon burnt bendalloy, speeding up time for just the Wereds. "Can you include the sofa in this?" Silk asked her. The little girl nodded. While she couldn't tell any difference from sight, Silk knew it had been done. She dropped a coin then jumped off the ledge, Pushing at it in intervals to slow her fall. Silk dragged the couch over as quickly as she could. Then she Pushed off the coin back up to the others. Silk nodded at Horizon, signalling to drop the bubble. She did so, and Crow, Fog, and Branch began to visibly move once more. Then they started to jump down as though they'd just heard Crow's threat. Silk jumped last, this time not slowing her fall. ~-~-~-~-~ S An ant started doing laps around the house. ~-~-~-~-~ S The ant stopped running and began doing jumping jacks. How did that work with six legs? No idea. Go ask the ant yourself. ~-~-~-~-~ A Crow strode to the edge, moving Branch to the hand with Fog, gripped it, and swung down, landing with a thump. Crow grinned, but her eyes remained cold. She left Branch and Fog in one hand, letting her Shardblade appear from the air. "Now, children, if you don't be good, some of you will stop losing limbs." "You be good little boys and girls, and you'll survive. At least for now." ~-~-~-~-~ S Viness, Tanel, and Silk shared a look. They knew what each other was thinking and they knew it wasn't good. They all shook their heads slightly. No one was going to do something dumb. Golda, however, wasn't watching them. Her eyes were glued on Crow. "Understood," she said, sweetness disguising the hatred she felt. "How do you define good, though? Morally or cooperatively? I'm assuming cooperatively, but it never hurts to be absolutely certain." Her voice hardened. "Especially when the only crime we've ever done is exist." Silk put a warning hand on her shoulder. "Excuse my sister, please. We aren't at our best when woken abruptly in the middle of the night." She didn't mention the fact that she hadn't even gone to sleep in the first place, having chosen rather to get out and enjoy the night. She supposed that may have ended up for the better. They'd at least gotten some warning. "Now, would you like a cup of tea, or would you rather get on with whatever it is you want?" ~-~-~-~-~ W The Tattered one looked Crow incredulously and said, “Are they serious?” Before walking over and grabbing each of their wrists in turn and making a sort of spike handcuffs around them. He then returned to the door. ~-~-~-~-~ A Crow smiled tightly. "Unfortunately, we have places to be, you and I." She pushed the hilt of the shardblade into the small of Silk's back. "Now, everyone, out of the door, one by one. Tattered One, out front, I'll take up the back." She grinned. "We go to the transport point now." ~-~-~-~-~ S The ant watched them leave, as disappointed as the Wereds that neither offer of tea had been accepted. A Criminals had been hired. Lots of them. It had taken multiple gangs to fill up all the jobs that had been required. But when Raven Underdark asked you to do something... you did whatever she goddam asked. If you didn't, you were never seen again, and as likely as not, your family disappeared as well. There was two tasks for the criminals. One was a violent, bloody job, but it would be easier then the other. In the other, they were to be simple messengers- to a house guarded by godlike figures, who didn't show their faces. And they couldn't be seen. At the first house, only three were needed. Sadists, murderers, the scum of the earth. They took two corpses, and mutilated them, skinning portions, breaking bones, making their blood coalesce in puddles upon the floor. They moved the bodies around, so their was puddles of blood on all of the floors. It was incredible how much blood there was in two bodies. They had left the faces untouched, by order, except the eyes, which they gouged out. Then they hung the corpses, using their own intestines, over the front porch, where they stayed, dripping on the porch, covering it in blood, until the neighbors discovered it the next morning. At the second house, a message had been left for each of the children. A message on their pillows. The criminals didn't understand what the messages meant, but they did what they were told. Each message deposited exactly where they were told to put them. They snuck past the armored figures, past the people who were in the house. They entered through windows, through the attic, but all of the messages were placed where they were told. All ten messages. They read:
  14. 16 years after the War for Alleycity. Elkanah glanced up, looking at the sign. "DIDGERIDOO, the Delicious Inspired Distinct Great Eating Resturant, and Innovative Developers Of Orders." It was open. He glanced down at his partner, Rilu. The kid was doing good. He was close to his second Ideal. They had built this place from the ground up, and it was finally done. Satisfaction thrummed through Elkanah. "So, we're open then?" Rilu asked. "Yes, yes we are." Elkanah replied. The menu wasn't very big, only including a few staple items from each world, and of course, TUBA's signature Fortune Cookies. He would expand the menu, as customers and critics ordered unique things. Rilu was a suprisingly good cook. Elkanah was proud of the kid. He was a bit shy, but a good person when you got to know him. His chouta was the best Elkanah had ever tasted. Hopefully, this place would last longer than the bar, all those years ago.
  15. Hey!!! I heard some people want parties. Therefore, I made a party. Come in, have some fun. I'm sure the DA and TUBA will bring baked goods. Have fun. I'll go ahead and start the rootbeer flowing now. @Voidus @Archer
  16. Get your tasty fortune cookies here, baked fresh by TUBA!* Spinner Cookies™ are always delicious, and always come with an interesting fortune printed on a slip of paper within. So far, we have served {77} cookies and helped customers with a few other things too! *No Hemalurgy was used in the making of this product. We do have staff members on hand to check and see if the Dark Alley or any other groups/individuals slip some spikes in.
  17. The Stranger sat in his lab and contemplated the cookie in his hand. It was chocolate chip, slightly chewy and perfectly balanced between chips and cookie. Something simple to enjoy amidst the complexities of Science. He took a bite, then turned towards his current experiment. Distortion fields hummed and hypercompressors whirred, while a glowing sphere slowly revolved in the air, suspended between two gravitron fields. It was roughly the size of a melon, and if one looked closely they could see tiny clouds floating above minuscule continents and seas. The Stranger grinned, it had been no small feat to compress a planet to this size, without annihilating all life on it. It had taken years of work and was one of his prouder achievements. He’d even kept the gravity to scale, and maintained the water cycle perfectly. But all of that was nothing compared to what he was about to do next. He reached into his grey lab coat and pulled out a pair of gloves, as he walked over to a separate lab bench. As he walked he left afterimages in his wake, but they weren’t of him. They were a myriad of people and creatures from across the multiverses: A wailing Parshman in Stormform, a woman in a mistcloak, a strange figure with tentacles for a mouth, a duck. He noticed the duck and realized he had been distracted, so he concentrated and the afterimages vanished. It required incredible self discipline to hold that many pieces of other’s souls, and often less prepared Hemalurgists lost themselves. But the Stranger was no Acolyte, he was the Head of Research and Development, as well as Marketing. He didn’t have time to be distracted by such petty concerns. There was Science to do. He opened a lead box on the counter, and carefully lifted out a silvery vial, made entirely of aluminum. He uncorked it and removed the contents with a gloved hand: a single glowing spike, made of Soulstone as well as some other unidentifiable materials. If one looked closely at the surface they would see that the entire thing was covered completely in microscopic etchings. The Stranger’s perpetual Cheshire-esque grin grew even wider, his eye glowing as brightly as the spike in his left eye socket. He had made an essence spike before, but this was something different entirely. He felt euphoria welling up inside him, but he remained calm and kept himself from dancing across the lab in wild glee. Science was about prioritizing and process, and dancing wasn’t until step 7,542,230, though he had allowed himself a small dance break a few days prior. Now was the time to focus, the experiment was almost complete. The Stranger looked once more at the Spike in his hand. This was too great of a Scientific Achievement to complete alone in a lab. This had to be witnessed, if only to ensure that someone could destroy everything if it all went horribly wrong. The Stranger almost summoned Leonard, his chief acolyte, who’d been his lab assistant for years. But then he realized that there was another who deserved to be a part of this moment, the Original Lurker, The Baker Supreme, the Master of the Alleyverse: Voidus
  18. era 3

    Bellatrix approached the building. A massive warehouse, run down, it had vines growing down one side, moss on the roof, and one wall looked like it was going to fall in. Her home. The home of her gang. They were in Bloodflame territory now. She approached the doors, a wide grin on her face, hair spread out behind her. A spark flew from her hand, then another, then another, floating up. That would notify them she had brought three new ones. Striding confidently, she opened a hidden door, beneath some vines, and walked in. It opened up to reveal a large space, filled with old machinery. Graffiti covered the wall, their own art. A massive replication of the Bloodflame symbol covered one wall, the flames intricate around the bloody skull. Twenty or more people moved around within, a couple of Dahkor, a man with a spike through his eye, a female singer wearing black leather. She grinned, waving at the last. "Anne, you're back! Hospital let you out early?" She laughed, waved back, and made an enthusiastic thumbs up. Bellatrix looked around, her eyes falling on the three marks below the Bloodflame symbol. A skeleton hand, folded in a fist, a green serpent, eyes bright red, and two metal nails, stabbed through a board. Those were the gangs she had absorbed, when they became too weak. Bonefist, Viper, and Railway Gangs. They all had expanded her territory, and left her with new members. Bonefist had lost men in a fight with the Forge. That brought Dahkor. Viper had come from Roshar, but been attacked by a group of Epics, leaving five survivors. That's where Anne, and a couple of others not present, had come from. Railway had spikes, victims of Syndicate Omega. Two survivors, Marge and Greg. Greg had the spike through his eye, Marge wasn't here. She collapsed on a couch near the entrance, gesturing to the newcomers. "Come in, come in. Welcome to the gang!" The gaunt man entered first, settling down beside the couch. "Come on, Freyja, Galvian." @beantheboy12 @whattheHoid @Sorana @Jaywalk
  19. Walker has been hunting The Jackal and his criminal net for a year. The Jackal has been thwarting his attempts at every turn. Now the Jackal has started building his own inner circle. Walker has now opened his hunt to any who want to join him, but The Jackal is growing just as fast. Walker is hunting, and the Jackal doesn't seem to care. Now, anyone who wants in can be in, and the full might of both sides are crashing against each other.
  20. Setting High in the Horneater Peaks, hotsprings bubble and hiss, emitting sulfurous fumes. Some spit bright mud in waves, while others steam over delicate natural formations. A few have been tampered by humankind, shaped in such a way that they are cool enough for humans to not burn themselves. One of them doesn’t bubble, or steam, or smell. It is a perpendicularity between realms, and it is closely guarded. A trail leads from the most accessible part of the pool toward a twisted tree, which barely survived the extreme heats. If one went left at the tree, then one would follow the short path down to a Horneater village, one that benefits from further heated pools. It isn’t large, but it isn’t small, and the townspeople are kind. They speak of Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor, their rightful king, and they speak of the Radients returning, but they whisper of what you will find if you turn right at the tree instead of left. Up the winding path, crisscrossing over small wooden bridges and around mud pots, there are small signs. One boldly tells you that “No Hemalurgy” is allowed, another “Investiture Training”, and yet a third proclaims “Best Apple Crisp in the Cosmere!” The first, when one turns right at the tree, is large, and is carved in more than twenty different languages. “Welcome to Roshar! Waystop is 1/8 of a mile ahead – Food – Stormlight – Allomantic Metals – Clothing – Rooms for Rent or Use – Investiture Training (not Hemalurgy) – All Guilds Welcome – Clean Privies”. A tiny sign below it tacks on “must NOT be afraid of spiders” as an addendum. Up the path, over steaming sulfur pots and geologic marvels, sits Waystop. It’s a rambling stone one-story house surrounded by plants from every part of the Cosmere, some moving more freely than the wind warrants.The smells of baked goods and the days supper drift on the breeze, tantalizing anyone who happens to pass by. Spiders merrily spin webs in the corners and on anything that holds still for too long, and steam bubbles from the roof of a bathhouse. Welcome, Worldhopper, to Waystop. (Rooms and etc will be added as needed) Proprietors Yzabet Montegue (Yih-zah-bet Mawn-teh-gew) – HOSTESS and INSTRUCTOR Yzabet is the proprietress of Waystop and has run it for the past fifteen years. She is the cook, cleaning lady, gardener, investiture instructor, and general caretaker of the place. She keeps it all under control and uses the trained spiders that she breeds to make sure that everything is in order. Pallas Montegue (Palace Mawn-the-gew) – WORKING HAND Pallas helps his mother whenever she needs it, but can often be found reading in the library or creating the Cosmere’s first ever rock music. Long-Term Employees – Atticus – Security and Defense Contractor Mr. Amber – Chocolate Guru and Business Partner Current Visitors - Too many people for me to remember [PLEASE FORGIVE THE MESSY MAP. I stole it from the plans of an old folks home. Red is stuff that you can ignore (unless it is writing) green is trees, and blue are the hotsprings. Also marked in red are the outlines of the bathhouse and training grounds. Room prices are not yet listed, and neither is the price for Investiture training. Enjoy Waystop!]
  21. Dwig looked about, the Alley city was the perfect place for a new M&I location. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cylinder, marked: M/I LC AMCD. Dwig grinned, unscrewing the top of the cylinder and smacking it against his hand. Something fell out, Dwig smiled. He held the small, pure black cube in his hand for a second, before tossing it at a dilapidated building. When the cube hit the building, it transformed the once-apartment into a perfect Metallurgy and Investiture shop. Dwig grinned. The device had worked this time. He walked inside, seeing all the usual stuff that M&I sold. Dwig vaulted over the counter and plopped into his swivel chair. After sitting for a while, he rolled over to his file cabinets and pulled out a folder. He stood up and walked to the door. Walking outside, he began nailing the notice in the folder to the door. Then he walked back inside. Looking about, he saw that the store was slightly different from the original. It still appeared like a supermarket with metal vials, fabrials, and weapons on the shelves. He wandered to the back of the shop and sat back down. METALLURGY AND INVESTITURE NOW HIRING, Positions needed: Below was a five-page list.
  22. Rick walked into Alley 72572. 'wait, isn't this the alley where the salsa research is' Rick winced as the fourth wall broke, "Yes, and I was trying to avoid thinking about that, as that's an OOC thread" The mimes repairing the fourth wall scowled in Rick's direction as it shattered again. "Sorry guys, ignore me and the voice." Rick opened the door in the ground and jumped through, falling into the Salsa Club's meeting room. He quickly pulled out the Time Recorder and pressed rewind. Ten Seconds Ago "You know, I always wondered about the record button on that does," The snake said. Rick looked at the snake. "You need a name, you shall be called Banden from this day forth" "Kay," said the snake. Just then, the gravity in Alley 72472 changed and the three of them fell into the God Weapon Research Lab. "Hello," called one of the scientists cheerfully, wielding a glowing sword, "Good to see you, Rick" Rick walked into the center of the lab, where eight swords were placed point down in eight altars. The scientist placed the ninth sword into its altar and walked to a control panel. Researchers began to run about the lab, preparing for the activation. Later The central altar began to glow with power, charging with saidin and Spiritual energy. The energy began to take shape, forming into a massive sword. The sword darkened, sucking in the light around it. "It's drawing too much power, activate the Spiritual Dampeners!" a scientist yelled. The glow began to dissipate, leaving the sword. Rick walked up to the altar and pulled the sword out. He gasped, so much power, he could level a city with this weapon. He smiled and slammed the sword into the ground, teleporting away. .
  23. The house wasn't large for a well-situated merchants home, but it wasn't small either. It was mediumsized and like the other houses around it was relatively new. Locaded in a part of the Alleycity, that was only partially destroyed, it still had to be rebuildt almost from scratch. Around the house was a small strip of green, mostly gras and some bushes to keep the workload low. Same as the house the inhabitants were said to be normal people. The woman was known for her generosity - had she not taken an orphan in during the hard years after the war? And ever since she married again, the street had another nice and quiet couple, that looked after their work. The girl they forstered was a quiet one, but well-educated and gossip was sure she would make another merchants son a fine wife someday. Rumor had it, that there were already negotiations going on. It was a warm, welcome looking house, with a nice, generous family living inside - or so everybody thought. But today the house seemed darker and everybody made a wide berth when they passed it on the street. It felt like a dark energy was all around it, and unconciously the neighbours kept away. A raven sat on the rooftop, screaming a hoarse cry into the air, almost like it was calling doom itself. If you looked closely the raven was dripping blood the tiles and flashes of light could be seen behind the windows. But like any good neighbours, they turned their heads. The Vulkens were nice people, what happened inside their walls, was their private affair. ===================== Suddenly the darkness went away and Damaya instinktively took a deep breath. She was in a building. Somewhere. Araha was gone. Panic overtook her senses for a moment, until she forced herself to breathe deeply. In front of her stood a man, in armor. He reminded of those that had attacked them at the Waystop and she instinktively stumbled backwards, until her back hit a wall. "Who are you?" She asked, her voice small and frightened. She almost expected him to raise a hand and struck her and shoved the memory away. Mr Amber was right. She needed to get over them, not everybody wanted to hit her. Although this guy probably would. "What do you want from me?" @Grey Knight
  24. A red alarm light dropped in the middle of a DA lab. The researchers, acolytes and guards had all been pulled away to view some contrived plot devices that were happening nearby, so both the alarm and the escape attempt that it signalled went unnoticed. A large group of gangly creatures made their way out of the lab and into the streets of Alleycity. Their wide, orange heads flickered as though lit from within by some infernal light (Or possibly a candle) and their long fingers ended in sharp metallic spikes. The DAs Jack-O-mancers had been released.