What Happened In Astoria

[Mailliw73]

The morning dawned with new chances at taking Astoria. Dragoon would help, Jag was sure. When Hellfire flew off with no explanation, just a return time, Jag was frustrated, but not impeded. The four Destructors continued their work, gathering Commandos and temporary vehicles. Once ready, they headed out of town, Hellfire still not back.

Jag scanned the skies for a fiery body, but nothing was there even to his or Hawkwing's enhanced eyes. They left town and headed north for Dragoon. Hellfire would either find them on the way or not. Jag didn't care.

[Blackhoof]

Hellfire looked around as the portal closed behind him and Banarang, knowing that a small one would be opened to allow a servant to watch for their return. Abandoned and ruined buildings surrounded him, vegetation already reclaiming the town. He couldn't see the building that they had been staying in, but a quick flight would get him there. "Banarang can walk", he thought grumpily.

The earth Epic was kneeling a few feet away, a hand pressed into the dirt. His eyes were closed, and he breathed deeply and evenly.

Hellfire sniffed in derision. "Enough messing around, Banger! We need to find those gun-toting rednecks. I will show you to the hotel-"

"Are they in vehicles?" The High Epic asked, his eyes remaining shut and his head bowed.

Hellfire frowned. "Well, yes, they have some tanks or something. Why?"

Banarang's eyes opened. "They are not in a hotel. They are on the move, not far in that direction. Their wheels are like thunder bolts in my head, like an avalanche." He pointed, and continued, "Fly that way, and you will find them. I won't be far behind."

With a gesture, Banarang sank into the ground, disappearing completely. Hellfire growled, and took off into the sky, muttering racist obscenities and travelling in the direction Banarang had indicated.

Soon, he saw the Destructor's convoy, and landed in front of them. Banarang, true to his word, rose out of the ground next to the fire Epic. "Boys," Hellfire shouted, as the convoy halted. "Meet Banger, my earth Epic."

Banarang frowned for the smallest second. "My name is Banarang-Bamal. Pleased to meet you."

Edited June 26, 2015 by Blackhoof

[Sirce Luckwielder]

Affinity went through her posessions, deciding what to place in her pack for the day. There was so much to choose from, with only so much that she could carry. She didn't know how this would all turn out, so she went with a small utilitarian pack. It would hold a few items, but wouldn't interfere with her movement as much as her normal pack.

 

Looking through her inventory, she chose several items.  She grabbed a lock pick set, a hammer, a multitool, rope and carabiners, some smoke grenades, a pocketknife, a game controller, a scuba mask, a first aid kit, and a spoon.  She took hold of the game controller and pressed it against her skin.  Thinking of Tetris, she used the skills a master would need and expertly inserted each item into the bag, making sure that each fit and none were grating against another item wrong.  Due to her amazing packing skills, she had room to fit one last item on top.  She went into her closet and opened a strongbox in the floor.  Inside lay two faded ballet slippers.  They didn’t fit anymore.  After a decade they had grown worn, but she kept them in excellent condition.  She had always wanted to be an expert ballerina.  She grabbed one, taking it out of the box and looking at it for a moment. Perhaps having the shoes wouldn’t do anything when she got into a situation, but they were a comfort and she felt better having one with her.  She placed it in the pack and closed the locker. She walked to the door, strapping on her typical weapons and her body armor.

 

In the dining room, she found Journey finished up breakfast.  She, of course, had already eaten.  

 

“Ready to go, you slontze?” After working for so long under Dragoon, all of the members of the Cavalry had become pretty comfortable with each other.

 

“Just waiting on a lazy, petulant girl,” he retorted, getting up and handing his tray to a serving woman. He began walking towards the door.

 

“In case you’ve forgotten, you are teleporting us there, so there isn’t really a reason to go anywhere before we head over. You do remember your powerset, as insignificant as it is?”

 

“Alright. Alright Ms. Hoity Toity.  Have it your way.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, kissed her on the mouth in a surprise move and they were suddenly standing in a warehouse.  It had been set up for the meeting to take place later on.  There were refreshments, comfortable chairs, and several servants would be arriving shortly to oversee the affair.

 

Affinity pulled away after another moment, slightly breathless.  “You know that your breath smells of onion?”

 

“You know that your lips taste like cardboard?”

 

“You know that your face feels like sandpaper?”

 

“You could feel the rest of me and make a better judgement later.”

 

“I think not, you’re ugly enough hiding your body beneath clothes.  Speaking of which, put on your half-mask, you got a little something something on your lips there.”

 

Before he could reply, she gave him a soft slap on the cheek and pulled away from him. Such banter and flirting wasn’t uncommon among the Cavalry, but she didn’t want things going too far.  She didn’t mind the occasional peck, at least from a few of the other gang members, but she didn’t really care for any of them enough to give them a peek under the hood.  For their part, they mostly respected her wishes, but that didn’t keep them from trying.  She suspected that they were slightly kept back by the prospect of a woman who could beat them at anything she put her mind to.

 

“You recharged on your teleportation?”

 

“Just about. Let’s move out and I’ll be ready by the time we get from here to the wharf.” His voice was muffled by the half mask that marked the Horsemen, but it made up for it by projecting his voice, albeit with a raspy effect on it. Dragoon thought it gave his Horsemen a distinguishing feature and he was right in that regard.

 

They walked along in silence after leaving the warehouse.  The normal people drew away from them, stopping their activities to let them through.  They knew them by sight, but also by reputation.  Dragoon controlled the city and his Cavalry was not to be offended.  To have one of the full Horsemen and Dragoon’s personal assistant was not something people would even think of crossing.

 

They walked up to the massive boat on the wharf.

 

Journey turned to Affinity, giving her a raspy “you ready?”

 

“Are you?”

 

He nodded in response, then raised his voice, calling to the boat.

 

“Ahoy the ship!”

 

[Mailliw73]

A flame burst into view and Jag called for the others to stop. Their temporary vehicles were nowhere near weaponized enough. An old Toyota just wasn't Jag's style. Dragoon should fix that soon. Hellfire shouted and introduced the dark-skinned man that burrowed out of the ground. "Boys, Meet Banger, my earth Epic."

"Welcome back, Hellfire," Jag said. "Banger, is that short for something?" He asked raising and eyebrow. It wasn't a name that an Epic would typically walk around with. Unless they were more lewd than most. 'Banger's' full name was a bit of a mouthful though.

"Let's head out," Jag said after the brief introductions were made. "Hope you two can keep up." He smirked and sped off.

When they arrived in town, Jag hopped out of his car, after ripping his door off. They need a bit of show to see who we are. Smasher expanded a force field and blew up a small car. "Where does Dragoon meet visitors?" Jag demanded. A few furtive glances and pointed fingers gave him his answer. "Thank you." He ditched his Toyota and began sprinting instead. The others followed.

[Edgedancer]

Bloody Mary took a bite out of her bread with a nice layer of strawberry marmalade on it. After yesterday she earned herself a good breakfast and few foods was more suited to that than marmalade, as such she simply had an assortment of different types of jam and bread on her table. It was a pity that she couldn’t take more time off, especially now when Lucentia was about to bring Nighthound back but work wouldn’t wait long for her, more so today than usually judging by yesterday.

 

Still she could allow herself leisure for a little bit longer. Mary held her slice of bread down to the serving girl that helped her enjoy the morning. “How about some marmalade? You’ve earned it,” Mary told her.

 

The woman’s remaining eye darted between the sweet tasty slice of bread and Mary’s face.  She was supposed to be blind by now but she wanted to keep her as a welcome present for Nighthound, meaning she had to take proper care with removing the eyes and as such had not enough time to remove both of them, yet. Right now she was left on her knees in front of Mary, barely conscious and lulling from the drugs she pumped into her system, so she didn’t simply black out from the pain. Her head absentmindedly bobbed forward and see took a bite.

 

“You wanted to talk with me?” She could hear the Metal say, his voice slurring a bit, like he just got out of bed. Figuring that if he can answer, he’s awake enough for a conversation, she flicked out a tendril of blood into the room and connected it to the flask the Metal was carrying to move him into the room. Indeed he looked the part of someone that just got out of bed, his hair still an unruly mess and lacking a shirt under his usual duster, displaying the scar on his chest.

 

“Yes, indeed. Maybe you could also do me the favor and join me at breakfast?” Mary accompanied her question with a commanding gesture at the other chair, making it clear that there wasn’t much choice. After a short moment of hesitation he shrugged and took a seat. He looked around his options on the table and seeming slightly disappointed grabbed a jam seemingly at random. “So what’s this about?” He asked, while spreading the jam across a slice of bread.

 

Mary responded with an exaggerated huff, crossing her arms and throwing her head to the side. “A lady invites you for breakfast and you have neither time for small talk nor manners for something as simple as a good morning?” She ended her little act by turning her head back to him with a glare that would have been able to melt a hole into actual metal.

 

Naturally he didn’t melt but he did halt for a moment and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Being allowed to cut him up was a onetime occasion, however she and Lucentia made it spectacular enough that it also left a mental mark on him as well, which gave them the possibility to knock him down a peck every once in a while. This already made her day. The fake anger she played up before melted from her face and was replaced by a more genuine smile, a thin one that resembled a cat cornering her pray.

 

It wasn’t a moment that lasted long before he shifted back to his arrogant self. “I hope you had a good morning, Mary.”

“Oh absolutely and I wish you one as well. I’d love to tell you about mine, once you make sure this conversation will stay private.”

The Metal simply shrugged his shoulders. “No one can hear us.”

“You see, Lucentia is going to return with Nighthound soon, which itself is good news enough to make me happy of course,” Bloody Mary was growing slightly bubbly as she continued talking, “However, because I’m upholding my blood control all over town he can’t be too rough with me, to make sure he doesn’t kill me. Meaning we can’t really go at it, even if we get proper time alone. So, I looked among the serving girls for one that suits his tastes, which is her,” Mary pointed at the redhead kneeling next to her with a blood tendril, “so he can go rough with strangling and punching her at least, although I would have liked her to have a better hip. What do you think? I kind of hoped that, as a follow man, you could give me some pointers how I should best train her.”

“This might come surprising to you but I am one of those guys that never understood the appeal of mishandling women.” The Metal’s face was deadpan but his eyes shortly flicked over to the one eyed girl.

“A pity.” Disappointed, Mary slouched in her chair. “Wait, maybe I could simply teach you about it,” excited again she leaned over the table, supporting herself with her hands against the table, “I’ve just finished growing some flesh-eating centipedes, they aren’t really for beginners but you can get some fantastic results by setting them into the right parts of the body and…”

 

She noticed that his eyes weren’t really focusing on her and he fingers were tapping rhythmic against the table. Mary simply starred flatly at him. Shortly later he shrugged his shoulders. “What you can’t reasonably expect me to listen to that crem.”

Pouting Mary pulled herself back into her chair and said, “Fine your loss. I suppose we should start talking about business then.”

 

She really wanted a torture buddy.

[Blackhoof]

Hellfire's smirk faded as the Destructors drove around them, leaving them in the dust. "Americans..." Hellfire grumbled, "Can't even give a wounded mate a lift!"

Banarang said nothing, and sank back into the ground, leaving a patch of churned sort in his wake. The fire Epic clenched his jaw and formed a seat of solid flames beneath him. Sitting down, he set two wheels of flame rolling, and set off down the cracked road.

[A Joe in the Bush]

Purple is Joe/Blackwave     Blue is Mail-Mi/Wandersail     Green is Luckwielder/Affinity

 

It was about time someone showed up. They’d been waiting all night for a message. Blackwave strolled to the railing, looking at at the port. “Ahoy the Port! What do you want?”

 

“Starlit Rain,” Affinity said, giving the prearranged pass phrase. “You know who we represent and you know what the terms are. Our leader wishes for us to conduct you to a meeting place.  There will be refreshments to satiate you.  Do you come in peace?”

 

“It’s a big city you know. How was I to know you were Dragoon’s Men. And yes, I ‘come in peace’” He didn’t bother to keep the Sarcasm out of his voice. Yes, he came in Peace, but he would only remain in peace if a deal was made.

 

Affinity turned to Journey whispering the Pirate's intent to him.  “He’s legit.  So long as we come to an agreement he won’t be doing anything to Long Beach.”

 

Turning to the pirate, she called out.  “So we are agreed then?  You may come with us.  Bring one other person if you wish.”

 

He looked over his shoulder, and nodded at Wandersail. The Wind Epic joined him at the gangplank, and they both walked down the ramp to the Dock.

 

Wandersail followed Blackwave to the dock, She used her wind powers to make herself look majestic, while blowing Blackwave’s cap off of his head. She stole a small smirk as he grumpily reached down and put the hat back on his head. He looked at her as if to say No games now Wandersail, or I’ll put you in the brink when we’re back. He turned back to the two Epics and said, “Now then, where be the meeting taking Place?”

 

“There is a room set up at a nearby warehouse. My friend here,” she gestured at Journey, “can take us there immediately.”

 

A Warehouse, how Original. “Then take us there.”

 

Journey placed his hand out, then teleported all of the Epics to where he and Affinity had been a few minutes before.

 

The Male epic put his hand out, and Blackwave eyed it. He glanced at Wandersail, who sighed, and grabbed it first. When nothing happened, Blackwave reached out as well. It never hurt to be cautious. And then they were there. There wasn’t any feeling, just a sudden change of Scenery. The port was gone, in it’s place a large and spacious building.

 

“Welcome. There are chairs to sit in and we have several refreshments for your pleasure.”

 

Looking around, he could indeed see several comfortable looking chairs and tables. He idly uncapped his flask, and sent the water out of it. It snagged hold of one of the chair legs, and brought it to him. “So, are you the one’s I’m negotiating with, or is it someone else.”

 

“Dragoon is too busy and important to come at the moment.  We are just two members of his high staff.  Never to worry, we can vouch and act in his name.  So, what are your terms?”

 

“So far, none. I need more information before I ask for terms. All I was told was to kill Bloody mary, after meeting Dragoon here.”

 

"That is generally what the basic plan for you is.  Mary, and all of the Astorian government Epics are a nuisance to our operations here. Our benefactor wishes them dealt with as soon as possible. Mary is primarily our main problem. With her ability to get into our agents we can not move onto dealing with any of the other Astorian Epics without having our entire plan compromised. It will be your job to deal with her. If you choose to leave after that step, your price will be paid. However, if you choose to continue on and help us get rid of the full Astorian regime your commission will be much more, as we will control the city and its resources."

 

Wandersail watched the conversation with interest. She’d heard of the Astorian rulers, especially the annoyingly whiny queen Lucentia. I’d feel much better about my life if she was no longer able to be a part of it, she thought. She didn’t speak out loud however; she always preferred to observe rather than participate. Participating was Blackwave’s job.

 

"It's not possible to kill Mary without coming into conflict with her allies, so I'll end up killing other epics in their regime anyway. I'll stick around for the full fight. How many allies in the city do we have?"

 

"Good. Would you like to negotiate a flat fee for the entire endeavor or a fee-per-kill? As for the support, well," said Affinity, "that's a bit iffy. We of course have the normal number of spies that you would expect, but with Mary's blood almost certainly infecting them they have mostly laid low. If you need them while you are there I can give you ways to contact them."

 

"I'd like a way to know who isn't or is a spy, unless you're fine with me killing our allies unknowingly. As for the pay, my men will be more motivated by a per kill pay."

 

"Name your price per kill, we can negotiate from there. Once we reach an agreement we can give you a coherent list of everything you need to know. We have also been working on this problem for a while, so we may have some suggestions on implementation for you."

 

“A Thousand per Minor Epic, and Ten Thousand per High Epic. And we get to keep any loot we find in the city unless you claim it beforehand.”

 

"The city, and everything in it are to be ours if we succeed. We will give you a bonus of twenty-five thousand if we take the city without too much ancillary damage. If you truly desire specific pieces of "loot" we can negotiate from there."

 

While that was stepping a little out of the bounds of what Dragoon had hoped for, he still wanted the city intact. If she could keep the water Epic before her from causing excess collateral damage to the city with a hefty bonus, that would be worth the price.

 

It was always disappointing when employers threw that clause into a contract. Collateral Damage was half the fun of these assignments. “That will work. When do we start?”

 

Sensing his desire for destruction, with her powers, Affinity was glad to have struck a bargain with the pirate. She casually tapped her watch, a button that would send a quarry to Dragoon's office. A moment later, the watch blinked once green.

 

Looking back at the Epics, Affinity smiled. "Dragoon's schedule has opened up. We can take him to you in just few minutes. Once we are there we can give you our intelligence and then you can be on your way." She grabbed a bottle of Scotch and poured it into a glass, clinked the ice a few times, then downed it in a gulp. This was looking to be the start of something very profitable.

[Voidus]

The Adventurer toyed idly with a piece of string as he thought over his interaction, was there some kind of requisite side-quest before a romance option appeared? Should he have brought that woman more flowers or something? Well she'd reached out to take the flower so gift giving was obviously ok, but then she'd tried to run. Maybe something more practical next time? Like one of the guns that Lockvault had in his inventory?

Resolving to ask his partner when he was done in the shooting range the Adventurer began watching the security feeds again, watching the NPCs scurry about their tasks, some occasionally pausing to chat as their morning routines kicked in. Watching one small family begin cleaning their house in the aftermath of last nights breakin the Adventurer marvelled at the complexity of the AI, usually games just reset all the items whenever you weren't looking, he supposed because of the security systems that it made sense to leave the NPC AI on even if there weren't any players around. Casting a quick look around the base and noting how it had already become somewhat messy after just a single night he considered checking to see if he shifted the NPCs to a new environment if they would start cleaning here too...

"It seems like we have been here long enough, how about we go look for some quests, or something?" Lockvault piped up, exiting the firing range.

"Not a bad idea, I don't even know what kind of factions there are here, I usually try to keep neutral at first to get through the main quest first but it's always good to know about all the guilds or whatever they have."

Forgetting about the cleaning family, the Adventurer started rifling through the room, picking out the odd item and putting them in his pockets with a muttered "Never know when you'll need it."

Thus armed with not only his rifle but several scraps of paper, a piece of chalk and a broken pen he shifted himself and Lockvault back into the city.

"Any ideas in particular?" He asked his companion as they appeared in a busy street, people giving them a wide berth and avoiding their eyes for some reason.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles]

Ten white votive candles sat in an elliptical formation on the floor beneath the window. It was enough, but just barely. One hundred was a far holier number, one thousand holier still. But the last time he’d tried that, Lucentia had begun warbling about fire hazards.

 

The One possessed her quite frequently.

 

“Savior Zero, bless this day,” he chanted. Lucentia wasn’t around to hear his chanting, so he repeated it a few times. “Bless this day and curse our foes, hide their bodies, Great Zero….”

 

When his morning ritual was complete, the Financier straightened his top hat, extinguished the candles, and created an equation:

 

9 candles times 0 equals 0 candles

 

The nine candles vanished, leaving one, which he set on his nightstand before fetching the supply list from the mailbox by his front door. His eye twitched as he perused it.

 

800 bags flour

300 eggs

 

It went on for some time, and that was the problem. So many numbers—all whole, all longing to be holy—but the more numbers you put in one place, the more they conspired with one another. He could see them conspiring now, lines twisting and twitching in threatening ways only he could notice. If he listened closely—he didn’t want to, but there were times when he couldn’t help it—he could hear their whispers.

 

He longed to destroy them all.

 

His hand shook, and the list shook with it.

 

He couldn’t destroy it yet. Not until the supplies were replenished.

 

The Financier crumpled the list—just to send those numbers a message—and shoved it into his pocket. He took the candle, now cooled, from his nightstand and tucked it into his coat pocket. You never knew when you might need an undetermined number of votive candles.

 

Thus prepared, he struck out of his suite and set about his day. 

Edited July 25, 2015 by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

[Edgedancer]

The talk with Bloody Mary left the Metal exhausted to say the least. He was by no means squeamish, far from it, but that woman just a number on her own. It was plain spelled on her face that she was thinking about dissecting everyone she so much as sees, worse was that she knew exactly what cutting him open would look like. If those sparking diamonds weren’t in his body, he’d simply reduce her to a smear on the floor. Gritting his teeth he closed his wardrobe, no need to let that drag him down.

 

“That bad?” Kim asked, standing a bit away in her servant clothes, gesturing at the door handle he just accidently crushed in his hand.

 

“Apparently,” he grumbled, while tossing it to the ground, “fix that up for me would you? I’m heading out.”

 

“Certainly, I would never dream of displeasing a being as magnificent as yourself.” There was the smallest hint of playfulness in her voice hidden under the formal servility.

 

Reacting in kind he gave her a soft clap on the rear, drawing an overacted squeal from her. Then he pushed open his window and jumped out. Before gravity could pull him down he pushed himself high up in the sky, taking in how Lightwrought had colored it this morning.

 

Once satisfied he thought what to do with his day until work called. Finnegan should be about to make his round. His mind set he shoot of towards his place, arriving just in time to see him leave it. Caring not much for grace he crashed in the ground a short distance away from him. To be fair it was more a crash for the ground than for him, sending dust whirling up in the air, while he came to a perfect stand, his coat waving behind him. He raised his arm above his head, brought them down so they were outstretched to his sides and snapped his fingers. At the same time he pushed down around the dust to clear the air.

 

“Good morning Finnegan, isn’t a wonderful day?”

[Blackhoof]

 

Lightwrought awoke, feeling the comfortable presence of Winterspell beside her. Light entered through the windows, reflecting and refracting through the white-blue walls of Icesteel Keep and providing a beautiful first view for the day. 

 

Climbing out of bed, she yawned and slowly made her way to the window. They had overslept; she had planned to be up at dawn to make a brilliant show out of the sunrise, but with everything that had happened last night they had just been too tired. "No matter", She thought to herself, as she looked out the window and leaned on the windowsill. "I'll just do it now." In her mind she planned out her show. A flash of blue here, a sparkle of yellow and green there... yes, this would do nicely.

 

Raising her arms above her head like a an orchestra conductor, Lightwrought painted the sky. All of Astoria could bear witness to her glory as she made light dance across the sky, in all manner of colours, sizes and hues. When she was done, she added a final flourish and set the sky as a beautiful, surreal flow of colour. Lightwrought lent back and admired her work, smiling slightly at the beauty of it.

 

"That was amazing as always, my dear." Winterspell said. Turning, Lightwrought saw him behind her, clad in his icy regalia. Lightwrought's smile widened, and she embraced her love. "I didn't want to wake you, you were so tired from yesterday..."

"I would never miss a display of your power, not for all the sleep in the world."

 

Still hugging, they moved to another window and looked out across the bay, towards Long Beach and Dragoon. "So your mercenary arrived, then?" Lightwrought asked.

"Indeed, sometime last night. I'll send a representative soon so that whatever Blackwave plans will be coordinated with our own forces."

 

Lightwrought looked up at him. "Are you sure that we are strong enough? We are strong, but defeating Mary? Or the Metal? You might be a High Epic but I-"

"Shh shh shh..." Winterspell silenced his wife with a finger to her mouth. "It will all work out splendidly, my dear. If Lucentia could defeat them and control Astoria, so can I. Remember, we have our secret weapon. And they will suspect nothing until it is to late."

 

Lightwrought frowned. But she kept her silence. She had gone with Winterspell this far, she would follow him further. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth.

[Aonar]

 

 

Standing atop the tower, Azrael watched the sun slowly rise. He had stood almost motionless for most of the night, maintaining the fine net of darkness he’d woven over the area on the off chance some illusionist decided to try their luck investigating the column. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized the desire to sleep, but his thoughts remained sharp; real tiredness never afflicted him.

 

As the sun rose higher, he dispersed his protections around the tower. In proper daylight, it was a magnificent structure; it was wholly coated in diamond more than a metre thick. At the top, much of the original architecture had been removed to make way for a larger observatory like structure, where Overwatch had based his operations.

 

Wake up, Nightshade. You have a job to do.

 

Something like a muffled groan came over the mental link. It’s far too early in the morning, Lord Azrael. While you have no need of sleep, or other constituents of regular mortal existence, I do. Shameful fact as that may be, I would appreciate if you tried to keep it in mind.

 

Sparking passive-aggressive little slontze. The world darkened, and then faded back as the interior of the tower. Nightshade, Midnight and Vires were camped out on the floor, wrapped in blankets they’d managed to scavenge from the room’s excessive collection of drapes and rugs. Darkquake, Eclipse and Twilight seemed to have made arrangements elsewhere.

 

Darkness pooled in Azrael’s hand, forming into a long knife. Tossing it lightly into the air, it streaked back down beside Nightshade’s head, scoring a line of blood into his skin. It cut through the thick carpet, throwing up razor sharp shards of diamond as it connected with the tower’s structure. Another dagger was already in hand as Nightshade hurriedly tried to stand.

 

“Now, Nightshade, correct me if I am wrong, but I believe another one of the ‘constituents of regular mortal existence’ as an attached head. Assuming I am correct, you have a choice. You can sacrifice a little of your sleep to help fulfill our purpose, or you can sacrifice your head to help relieve some of my stress.”

 

The Epic bowed stiffly, a few drops of blood rolling down his face. “I understand, m’lord. I’ll get right to it.” Anger was obvious in his voice, but he kept himself in check.

 

Pathetic. This is supposed to be one of our Lord Calamity’s own chosen, and yet he needs to be threatened with death before he sparking does a job he already agreed to.

 

Midnight and Vires stirred groggily as Nightshade exited. “You’re up? Good. Wake the others, and set about your tasks, Make sure the defences encompass both towers and as many of the outbuildings as possible. I need to get a closer look at our new domain.”

Edited August 18, 2015 by Aonar Faileas

[mail-mi]

Dragoon had just finished strapping on his travelling gloves when Journey and Affinity reappeared from their meeting with Blackwave. 

 

"Perfect timing," he said, throwing the end of his scarf over his shoulder. "Did we arrange to meet with the pirate?" 

 

"Yes," Affinity said. "We're meeting him in the regular meeting place." 

 

"Excellent!" Dragoon said. "Let's get going the--" he cut himself off as he realized something. "Journey, would you be a dear and find the other three Horsemen? I believe they'd want to meet with our allies as well." 

 

Journey saluted with one hand, but with the other hand reached down and pinched Affinity on the bottom. She yelped and turned around to slap him, but he was already gone. Dragoon tittered softly at the exchange, then held out his foot with an untied boot on it. A maidservant quickly ran to him to tie up the laces, making sure to tie it extra tight. 

 

Moments after his boots were done up Journey reappeared with War, a skinny lanky-looking guy whose looks really hid his true power; Precience, a short husky man with short brown hair that was extremely well kept; and Blight, an older man that could almost run as fast as if that was his Epic power. 

 

"Well, now that everyone's here, let's be off!" Dragoon grabbed onto War's hand and all six were transported away to meet with the pirate Blackwave. 

 

----------

 

Rodrigo had tried to live as normal a life as possible when Calamity showed up. That was proving to get more and more impossible. 

 

Like, for example, when an array of vehicles plows into town, and one of the doors opens up to let out a really muscular-looking man, who then proceeds to rip off his door. Rodrigo jumped in shock as one of the cars next to him exploded. "Where does Dragoon meet visitors?" the muscular one said, looking around at the small crowd of vanillas. 

 

"Th-that way, sir. His regular meeting place is over there," Rodrigo pointed down the street. "Just turn l-left up there sir." 

 

"Thank you," the muscular one said, and then he started sprinting towards the place. A flood of people came out of each car and followed after him, probably intent on crashing whatever party Dragoon was probably hosting this morning. 

 

Rodrigo shook his head and got back to work. Sometimes, "normal life" in a post-Calamity world was just impossible. 

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles]

The Metal appeared in a cloud of dust, trench coat billowing as the sound of his impact faded. He raised his hands and, with a snap of his fingers, sent the dust back toward the ground where it belonged. 

 

How disgustingly typical. 

 

"Good morning, Finnegan, isn't it a wonderful day?" 

 

The Financier's eye twitched. His name was not Finnegan. It had never been Finnegan, and the Metal's insistence otherwise would only attract the One's attention. He hated whimsical nicknames. Despised them in a way atypical of everyone but Lucentia, especially when that nickname was applied to his enemy. The Epic who had been rewarded with a vision of the Savior himself, and knowledge of the Prophet's role in cleansing the world. 

 

"Wonderful," the Financier snapped. "Of course you'd call it that. You don't have a list of heathens plotting mayhem from your pocket." 

[Edgedancer]

It was good to see at least one of the newcomers proclaiming the will to work, he’d see about the other one shortly. Calmly he grabbed one of the bottles on the table and poured himself a glass. “A fine attitude,” Deathwish said, “How about we put it to the test? You see, as it were the two of you are not the only ones to have enter our town yesterday. Different from you however, this other group did not have the sense to make their regards and instead stirred up trouble. Naturally, we could deal with them ourselves but it seems like a good chance to test how much you are actually worth.

 

“The situation,” Deathgale continued,” is that they have taken position at the Astoria Column and created what seems to be a shadow duplicate of it. As you two probably have already guessed, I want you to head there and deal with the situation. While, we would prefer keeping the column intact everything there is ultimately disposable, so feel free to take the chance and display your full capabilities. In case you don’t have any other questions I’d expect you to head of now. A meal to your liking shall be prepared for your return.”

 

Bloody Mary would be keeping an eye on their battle but not interfere. Currently, these two were very much still included in the disposable category.

 

Finnegan snapped quite liberally at the Metal’s greeting. The poor fellow had a problem with keeping his nerves under control, especially if numbers are concerned. It probably didn’t help that he was calling him Finnegan but he himself simply found the name much more amusing, so Finnegan would have to deal with it.

 

The Metal laid an arm around his shoulders and said, “So you’re getting sent on another run to stock up resources, huh? Though luck, I feel you, pal. What do you say about some company? I’m even taking music wishes.”

 

He finished with a flourish of his free hand, which brought his mobile to the ready to play whatever song he desired. 

[Voidus]

Bioterror nodded briefly at Deathgales instructions, already beginning some body alterations. His fingers fused together as the flesh from them slowly stripped away, bones merging to create short blades. He'd wanted to create a full arm-length sword of bone but his body just didn't have the minerals necessary to produce that amount of bone structure right now.

"Alright then, what and where are the Astoria columns?" He asked, turning to Brightdeath. "And you can teleport right? Can you take others or am I going to have to run?"
 

The Adventurer shifted once more, there had been no obvious quest-markers that he'd seen so he supposed quests needed to be discovered through interaction. So, dragging a grinning Lockvault along with him he'd shifted from place to place, attempting to ask if there were any ogres that needed slaying or princesses that needed rescuing. Those that saw him arrive all ran in fear, those that didn't run didn't seem to understand his questions.

Stupid buggy game. The Adventurer thought scathingly.

Just then he spotted something in the distance, a tower made from an entirely black material of some kind, it seemed to absorb nearby light and was nearly a twin to another tower nearby, built of more normal materials.

"Oooh!" He cooed excitedly, nudging Lockvault in the ribs and pointing. "Must be an evil magicians tower or something, sounds like quest material to me!"

"I don't think-" Lockvault began to say, some notes of curiosity in his voice but underlayed with suspicion.

"Don't think, do!" The Adventurer said, grabbing onto his partners arm and shifting them once more.

Hope we get to the right tower, hate to get all the way through it just to find out that the princess is in another castle.

 

[the winter system]

 

As Deathgale spoke, Brightdeath made golden spikes curl out of her skin. She coated herself in a strong, but flexible, armor. It was beautiful, with curves and edges. On her arms it was ridged. It sucked close to her skin. From the outside it was firm and if anything hit it, it would simply bounce off. From the inside, it was soft and padded. When she moved, the suit moved too. It looked like a medieval suit of armor, though better.

 

She only left slits for her eyes. And lucky for her, she made it ventilate perfectly using strategically placed holes and manipulation of the atomic structure. She wasn't sure how she did that, but it worked.

 

She also formed a huge golden broadsword, as tall as she was. It was sharpened to a razor point and it was light too. She swung it with ease. It cut through the air and when it hit the ground, it cut through it. She couldn't wait to see what it did to flesh. She also formed a golden insignia on her chest. 

 

Then she made a bag and slung it over her shoulder. Inside was a number of tiny spheres, with pointed edges. If she threw them, they would explode into tiny fragments. 

 

She could also make bullets out of light and fire them without a gun, but who liked doing things the lame way?

 

Bioterror did something weird with his arms, making them swordlike. 

 

My armor's better.

 

"Alright then, what and where are the Astoria columns?" Bioterror asked. "And you can teleport right? Can you take others or am I going to have to run?" 

 

"I can take others." Brightdeath said. "And I saw them earlier. So..." She grabbed his shoulder, the glove fadding away so she could make contact and she teleported to the Astoria Columns, fading into light. 

Edited August 29, 2015 by Winter Cloud

[Voidus]

The sudden change in light, air and scenery dazed Bioterror slightly as he arrived at what he could only assume were the columns.

"You could have asked you know." He said scathingly as he realized he'd just been unceremoniously teleported to their destination.

He took a pair of earphones out of a compartment at his collar, place one of the buds in his ear he reached up to his shoulder and tapped a few times before he managed to hit the right button.

Orchestral scores slowly came to life in one ear as he prepared himself.

Hmm... Dark tower huh? Nothing from Mansell would fit, something a bit darker but still kind of actiony. Duel of the Fates maybe?

Tapping his collar a few more times the nostalgic music sounded out, reminding him of the days he'd first watched the Phantom Menace.

"All set then. Don't get in my way." He said to his companion before walking into the tower.

Best switch on the night vision if they've got darkness related powers like this. He thought, eyes changing subtly to allow more light to enter. Hope there's at least a few Epics here, massacring a bunch of people who can't even fight back is not going to be very interesting.
 

Arriving in a dark room, the walls, floor and ceiling all made of the same strange black substance, the Adventurer had to admire the designer, not many people would take the design to this level for fears of seeming lazy, every piece of clutter was completely devoid of a texture, instead all possessing the same black quality as the walls. It certainly made for an interesting atmosphere.

"Few people here." He noted, his minimap detecting nearby enemies. "One just entered below, a few more up top. Shall we head down first or clear the top floor?"

Lockvault still seemed a little surly about being suddenly dragged halfway across town, but nevertheless he took stock of the situation quickly and came up with a plan. He must have had some experience in a raid team or something.

"Top first, whoever's below us might catch up to us there but if we make too much noise fighting the other guy down here the er... boss at the top will probably notice and we won't be able to surprise him." Lockvault said.

"Ah. Good point. So stealth tactics then? Try to get some crits in before we get detected?"

The Adventurer thought that Lockvault looked almost confused before he simply nodded in reply.

Must play as a tank too much to know what rogues have to deal with. He thought, dismissing the strange behaviour.

"Right then, up we go, rifles out." The Adventurer said, pulling his rifle to his shoulder, a subtle light grew around him, illuminating the room enough to see by though not spreading too far in front or behind them.

[Edgedancer]

Here's a collab post from Twi and myself.

 

“What do you say to some company? I’m even taking music wishes.”

The Financier stifled a sigh. There was no dissuading the Metal when he was in one of these terrible chummy moods of his. Even attempts to frighten him off with tales of the One’s many atrocities had only brought laughter. Either the Metal was exceptionally brave, or remarkably stupid. Both would make him unfit for the One’s service.

“Drums,” he said at last. “I can’t dissuade you from that dangerous polyphonic rubbish, so at least choose something with a good drum line.”

Thus Finnegan succumbed to his fate. Nowadays he did so much faster, the Metal wasn’t entirely sure if that was for the better or if he missed the grumbling and other attempts to get out of it. Naturally, it was still easy enough to get a raise out of him with, well just about anything. Even good music as he had figured out over the time. You gotta pity a man that can’t enjoy good music, simply for the sake of it being good music.

Nonetheless, he went about searching the music database for something fitting Finnegan’s wishes. At least he could get something with a halfway decent drum line to keep it from simply wasting the music, not that anything actually good would fit Finnegan’s tastes. What he settled on was a song called One Is The Loneliest Number.

“One good drum line coming right up,” he said, “Let us go.” With the statement the Metal vigorously raised his hand and pointed towards the direction they had to go.

One

Is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do

Two

Can be as bad as one ‘cause it’s the loneliest number from the number one

Such a tragic song, but it was good to play it. Good to think of the tribulations faced by the Prophet in his quest to keep the world at equilibrium. To keep it safe. A high and lonely destiny. Not that others in Astoria appreciated the Prophet’s deeds. To them, such a ballad was simply a ditty from a forgotten age, not an uncanny prediction of the Prophet’s troubles.

The Metal valued all forms of music, even if some of them were clearly superior to others, as such he didn’t begrudge Finnegan his taste of music. Respecting their friendship, he didn’t even point out to him that it was inferior. However, somewhere on their way to the distribution center he did feel the urge for something better and secretly fiddled with the mobile in his pocket to play another song, manipulating its sound to keep Finnegan from hearing it.    

Then the building came in sight. The building itself was rather unspectacular but Lucentia hadn’t kept herself from augmenting it. The result was something that looked like a mix of an office building and a warehouse hugged into two folded up diamond wings.

Once they were close enough that the attendants could make out that Finnegan not only wasn’t coming alone but who he brought with him a slight panic started up in the distribution center, not an outright frenzy with screaming and the like, just putting some things in order. They at least had the sense not to try anything futile like lowering their voice.

 

He ignored all their going on about what an honor his presence was and if they could do anything for him. Some random vanilla’s growling wasn’t what he came here for, so he waved them of and headed to the room in the back together with Finnegan, who seemed to be a fair bit annoyed at the scattering about of the attendants. The back room for Finnegan to work in was well lit and filled with an assortment of small items, a good deal of which were various kinds of food and other ingredients, for him to duplicate and matching carts for them to be stored in.

 

The Metal simply plopped himself into a comfy chair in one of the corners as Finnegan reluctantly started his work.

[Mailliw73]

 

Jag ran into a cluster of guards, the other Destructors and Aussies close behind. "Where's Dragoon?" he asked, machete in hand. The look in his eyes was enough to tell them that he was an Epic, and one of sufficient power to rip them to pieces. If he hadn't wanted to please Dragoon, in order to receive more favors, he would've done it. Ripped the bugs to pieces and shoot them with their guns. Hack their appendages off, one by one. Holding in his rage always made it worse. He kept the anger subdued, but only just. The guards fumbled with their radios and called for Dragoon.

 

They told him to wait. Wait? He, a chosen Epic of Calamity, wait? Oh, how he cursed Dragoon's help. The necessity of it was the only thing keeping him from destroying this entire town, hardly long enough to be called Long Beach. The other Destructors took the news better, for the most part, but Jag saw in Smasher's eyes that he didn't want to wait either. "You find him as quick as you can or I will destroy you. Slowly."

[the winter system]

Brightdeath examined her surroundings as Bioterror regained his senses. It was quite a shock to be teleported unexpectedly. Once, she'd been about to eat a meal by one of her previous employers, but it'd been poisoned. How rude. She'd been teleported upside down in the rafters. 
 

Then she'd left town, with the corpses of quite a few minor Epics littering her path. If it had been Starbolt, in Miami, who had tried to kill her, she'd have been able to do much worse. Too bad Starbolt had figured out her plan for murdering her before Brightdeath had been able to put it into place. She'd been unceremoniously kicked out. After that, she'd decided against trying to take over a city. She'd been lucky that Starbolt hadn't been able to kill her. 

Ah, the nostalgia... Brightdeath thought as she turned to look at Bioterror.

 

"You could've asked, you know." He said, annoyed. Brightdeath showered glitter on him. Without him noticing. She had a little laugh to herself about that.

 

"Asking? Now, why would I do something rude like that?" She said, but he had plugged in some earbuds. With the music turned up way too loud. Battle of the Fates, maybe? She guessed. 

 

"All set then. Don't get in my way." Bioterror said. Brightdeath fumed. Don't get in my way? That's what you say to the light Epic when you're fighting shadow Epics? 

 

He stepped inside. Brightdeath teleported right in front of him with a flare of bright, bright, bright yellow. She illuminated the entire tower in a giant flash. 

 

"'Don't get in my way?'" She mimicked as she sashayed forward. "She's so unoriginal. Come on, let's find out what's in this tower. If you want, I could hold your hand. Would it make you less scared?"  

Edited July 14, 2017 by winter devotion

[Aonar]

Breakfast this morning was dry cereal and a few bottles of water; all they’d been able to scavenge from the nearby buildings. While it made for an impressive base, it was pretty clear that the column had never been intended as any sort of long-term stronghold by the previous tenants.
 
“So,” Eclipse said, over the dejected crunch of cereal, “anyone want to place bets on how long before we’ve got Epics attacking, now ‘Rael’s gone?”
 
“There’s no point,” Nightshade grumbled. “With Azrael’s newfound ‘purpose’ he’s going to be drawing angry Epics like moths to a flame. If we’re not all dead within the day, I’ll be amazed. Calamity, put me down for twenty bucks on Az himself doing us all in.”
 
“He’s not that bad. Sure, he’s been a little strange of late, but--”
 
A blindingly bright flash of light shone through the partially open door, forcing everyone to cover their eyes.
 
Darkquake spoke, breaking the sudden silence. “Put me down for a hundred on right-sparking-now, hon. Looks like we’ve got trouble.” He stood, setting down his breakfast. “Alright then. Regular plan, I’d imagine?” A few nods. “Midnight’s with me, and everybody else out. Nightshade, contact ‘Rael.”
 

---

 

 
We’ve got a problem, Azrael.
 
Azrael pulled up short, hovering high in the sky over Astoria. Already? I haven’t been gone a half hour.
 
Yes, already. We’ve got at least one infiltrator, probably more, and they’ve either got a light manipulator, or they’re prepared enough to have brought high-intensity mag flares. Plan A is go, but if there’s a light manipulator...
 
I’m on my way. Folding his wings, Azrael dropped like a stone towards the city below.

Edited September 22, 2015 by Aonar Faileas

[Voidus]

Bioterror's eyes, already set to adjust to the supernatural levels of darkness in the tower nearly exploded when Brightdeath teleported in front of him, she lit the entire tower up with a blinding light, both announcing their presence to everyone in it and very nearly blinding him. He would have healed from it even if he had been blind but she didn't know that did she?

"First part of not getting in someones way." He growled at the teleporter. "Don't teleport right sparking in front of them. Second part, don't bloody blind me or I'll turn your capillaries into jelly."

His vision returned very quickly to normal and he barely managed to resist giving Brightdeath a taste of her own medicine by giving her a retinoblastoma.

Opting instead to rearrange some of his internal organs he shifted some poison producing glands around before mentally double checking his internal structure for any vulnerabilities and proceeding further into the tower, his enhanced leg muscles carried him onwards swiftly and quietly, though any chance of a complete surprise attack had long since been lost.

A bright flash lit the tower at the same time the Adventurer noticed a familiar presence appear on his minimap.

"Huh." He said, he was still holding onto Lockvaults arm with one hand, the other gently brushing a wall. He'd been right on the verge of teleporting before the flash had hit.

"What? More reinforcements?" Lockvault asked, his eyes rapidly darting too and fro as he seemed to be extending all his senses to see what the Adventurer had detected.

"Sort of, one of those two we met yesterday, the one who could fast travel. Is this like a follow up quest or something?"

Lockvault appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, perhaps the Adventurer was wrong, he seemed to be a much better tactician than he'd first thought.

"If there's someone else who can fast travel like you then they'll catch up to us if we head upwards, but if they're here they might be er.. doing the same quest as us, we don't want to fight them and the top floor do we?"

"Well I don't think she has a minimap, I can travel to somewhere nearby and keep an eye on them, jump in once one side is winning and then finish them both off?"

Lockvault didn't exactly seem to approve of such tactics but reluctantly he nodded.

The Adventurer put a hand to the wall again, shifting through the walls of the tower to come out in an empty room near to the top, he felt the presence of the two who had entered below rapidly ascending to meet those who'd been at the top, although they now appeared to be spreading out. Straining as much as he could he discovered that what he'd always used as a simple minimap had much greater detail this close, he could almost see all the people running around, one below bounding up in an almost animal fashion.

This game was so cool.

[mail-mi]

 

That one teleporting Epic appeared again. Things seem a little hectic around here, Wandersail noted. Lack of organization perhaps?

 

“Alright,” the teleporting epic said. “I’m back to take you to the meeting place.” He grabbed Blackwave’s hand and then, looking over at Wandersail, gently took her hand and kissed it like a “gentleman.” Dirty little... “It doesn’t seem like I’ve had a proper introduction with this black beauty. I am Journey; who might you be?” 

 

Wandersail ripped her hand out of his and leaned forward, getting into his face. “I’m Wandersail.” She hit him with a blast of wind that made him stumble backwards. “And you can shove off.” Grabbing his hand roughly while he was still dazed, she yanked him back to a standing position. “We’ll be taking off. Now.” 

 

Moments later, the three were standing in front of a collection of rough-and-tough looking people that were definitely Epics. The one who didn’t look so rough-and-tough, but rather looked very delicate, clapped his gloved hands daintily when they appeared. “The pirate! You’ve made it!” He looked around and introduced the people around him. “You have already met Journey--”

 

“Quite the greeting that was,” Journey mumbled beside Wandersail.

 

”--And this right here with the handsome hair is Prescience, this tall guy is War, and Blight’s right over here, the one with the fancy cane. And I, of course, am Dragoon, Lord of Longbeach.” More like Lord of Prissytown, Wandersail thought with disdain. 

 

Dragoon clapped his hands again. “Well, enough small talk. Let’s get down to business. What has Affinity already told you?” 

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles]

3 bags flour times 3 equals 9 bags flour

9 plus 2 equals 11

 

Eleven was a good number. Ten was better, of course—any number representing a union between the Savior and the Prophet was especially holy—but a number depicting two images of the Prophet side by side was good as well. Two attendants scuttled forward to load ten of the bags onto a cart. The Financier formed a new equation and waved his hand over the remaining bag, producing eleven more bags, ten of which were likewise loaded onto the cart. 

 

He wasn't overly fond of doing it this way, but producing supplies a handful at a time made it easier for the distribution center attendants to keep up. They always grew so daunted when several hundred bags of flour appeared before them, and although new ones could be trained easily, those remaining worked so much more slowly when one of their coworkers was crushed to death, leaving him stuck in the center with hundreds of items and the One conspiring against him while the attendants slowly divided the supplies into smaller, safer bands. The only reason why the Financier didn't multiply everything at once and be done with it was because the slower method was faster in the long run. 

 

Finishing the flour, he removed the line from his list with a quick equation and moved on to the next. He could see them twisting, whispering, plotting, planning….

 

He crumpled the list and started on the eggs. 

 

Before long, the supplies had been replenished, and the remaining numbers on his list were rowdier than ever. Furious at the destruction of their comrades-in-arms, the few on the page were nearly shouting for vengeance. 

 

It was the Financier's pleasure to destroy them as well. 

 

He threw the crumpled list into the air, vanishing it with a quick equation, and turned to the Metal. "There. Now that the city is properly stocked, I'll do as I please."