What Happened in Salem

[Vikro]

Vandal stopped anbd looked back at the man yelling at him.

"Wait, are you trying to tell me that someone named Sentry put up these posters, then expects no one to draw on them? That's ludicrous! Why would anyone intentionally put up the perfect artistic foundation, then expect no one to build upon it? Would a contractor pass up a perfect plot of land, where he could build the perfect house? I think not. And I am no different. I am teaching this city the meaning of art, using the materials provided by the city itself, in a way that it's citizens that replicate and improve upon. I'm restarting the Renaissance. Now, what's so wrong about that?" Obviously this person needed instructing as well.

Edited April 13, 2016 by Vikro

[breakingamber]

Not going to insert cool sword pic here.

 

The other guy turned around and looked back. Then he went on a rant about art and perfection - Boring! Abaddon zapped the other man with enough pain to bring him to his knees, and he went down. Aah. Much better. "Find your own 'artistic foundation'. The rules are, that NO ONE TOUCHES SENTRY'S POSTERS!" 

 

Then he remembered SoulCaster's DreamStates. The man - an Epic probably; no one else would talk back to Abaddon like that - might not be able to doodle on Sentry's posters, but maybe he could do something like that in a DreamState..."Wait a sec, come with me." He removed the pain. "What's your name?"

 

EDIT: I messed up some grammar. (now did I stammer?)

Edited April 14, 2016 by breakingamber

[breakingamber]

Very very short compilation post between me and Vikro

 

Vandal was waiting for the man’s response when he felt a crashing wave of pain. He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. What is this? So blunt, but it does get your attention. The pain vanished as soon as it came. The man told Vandal to follow him, and asked him his name. “The name’s Vandal, the resurrection of imagination.” Maybe he’ll take me to someone who can actually appreciate what I do for people. He appears to have no sense for beauty. Of course, most people don’t. Though someday, I will find someone, and what we will create, no one can destroy.

 

So, the man gave his name (Sandal, desolation of impugnation) and got up. Why am I walking again? Abaddon started gliding. “I hope you can catch up. Oh yeah, and remove the black sharpie from Sentry’s posters. She hates that; her power is seeing through those posters, and stuff like leaves, water, and permanent marker make it so her vision is obstructed.” Speaking of Sentry, I think she’d like to know about this. He pulled his mobile out of his jacket pocket, and dialed Sentry’s number. “Hi. This is Abaddon. I suppose you’ve noticed the sharpie on your posters? Well, I caught the culprit.” Then, he waited for her response.

 

Edited April 28, 2016 by breakingamber

[Quiver]

People sometimes described the mental process as a train of thought, and if there was one (only one?) thing Sentry prided herself on, it was that all her trains ran on time.

 

The sight of her posters defaced, however, have derailed that meticulous schedule. In fact, more than derailed; instead of going off the rails, it felt like a dozen separate thoughts were racing for one another.

 

'Why.' It wasn't a question, it was a demand. Why would someone go out of their way to draw thick mustaches, or bottle-framed glasses, or... or buck teeth over pictures of her face? She tightened her mouth to a thin line, trying not to think that she might be drawing attention to her upper lip.

 

It had been a long time since she had ever had to think about that, a long-time since she had ever had to think about people looking at her and whispering about her weight, or her hair, or anything else. A long time since she had not been able to use her powers.

 

A long time since she had lost thought about her weakness. Now, all those times were racing at one another full-steam, ready to crash... 

 

A crash that was interrupted by a song.

 

She looked at her phone, openly irritated, then winced internally. She shouldn't be that; Sentry was supposed to be nice, and cheerful, a perky, upbeat attitude, not a scowling woman. Scowls were such an ugly expression...

 

"What?" Even so, she didn't quite keep the bite out of her tone. The list of those who would be calling her was small, those who had her number even more so... which meant that any who did should have been afforded more respect. Just because she was having a bad day...

 

"Hi, this is Abaddon."

 

Abaddon? Her eye's narrowed despite her attempts at composure. He strolled in to town, blew some steam at the arena, then went off again. She had never had to pay him too much heed in an official capacity the past; unlike most epic's, he seemed to understand the value of following the rules.

Naturally, that meant she had kept a very close eye on him unofficially. 

 

"Back in Salem," she said, trying to keep her voice bright. "Well! No doubt Soulcaster will be pleased. However, I am quite busy, and if you want to have a talk, you'll have to put a request in through the proper chan-"

 

"I suppose you've noticed the sharpie on your posters?"

 

That stopped Sentry and her mental trains in their tracks. Everything seemed to shut down for a second, and she was silent.

 

"Well," he continued, as if he hadn't noticed, "I caught the culprit."

 

He... what? Her eyes flickered.

"...Well," she said slowly. "That's... good. Very good. I don't know when you got back, but I commend you on completing your civic duty! Soulcaster will be very pleased, I'm sure."

 

She kept her tone bright, tried to maintain the matronly affect she aspired towards. If Abaddon could see her face, however, he would have been able to read a very different response.

 

'That slontze.'

 

Maybe not an embarrassing ring tone, but that smug condescension? That better-than-thou, superior-attitude? The desire to dethrone Soulcaster and stand atop the heavens?

Yeeeeep. I accidently cast Sentry as one of the worst anime villains ever. Sorry guys.

(Though Escalon really does sound like a decent ring tone)

Edited April 28, 2016 by Quiver

[breakingamber]

I think there's a pattern here.

 

Sentry replied with some technical form-filling mumbo jumbo, but seemed somewhat startled when he mentioned her posters. Interesting. "Well, that's..." Long pause "Good. Very good. I don't know when you got back, but I commend you on completing your civic duty! Soulcaster will be very pleased, I'm sure." Eh. Soulcaster doesn't give a damnation about "civic duty." All he cares about is his Arena. Good thing I am very good at battling in the Arena.

 

"His name is Sandal. Well, actually, it's Vandal, but I don't really care. Sandal sounds better. Anyway, he's new here. I'm taking him to the bar, and then he's all yours. I have a good feeling he'll like the Arena. And if he doesn't, well well." He hung up.

 

***

Still a pattern.

 

FuzzyBun woke up. What was that? She glanced around, and saw the window open. Did I open that last night...? She got up, and summoned a scout bunny, who started bouncing around crazily. What? FuzzyBun started getting dizzy. Ohnoimgoingtodieand- She flumped to the ground, and the bunny soon followed.

 

***

Marissa Spade got out from under the bed with her gas mask on. Surveying the scene, she nodded at the dead body of FuzzyBun, grabbed the dead bunny, and then she threw down the ladder and effortlessly climbed to the ground. Glancing around, she started walking away from the hotel, when suddenly, "Freeze!" She turned around, and saw a man in blue, with a shiny badge on the front. She collapsed in fake terror, and said, "Sorry! I didn't do anything! I was just going for a walk!" The man looked at her curiously, and then he nodded. "Hurry up. You're going to wake up the Epics." Marissa nodded gratefully, and ran like hell.

***

I'm going to stop making these comments.

 

Marco Wizard paced his office. When is that assassin coming? Was she captured? Is FuzzyBun even dead? Then, the female assassin walked into his office. She had wiped off the makeup, revealing her as a rather ordinary female. "She's dead. Here's the proof" She held out a rather cute white bunny. Marco let out a sigh of relief. "Go, you've earned your keep. You can stay another month." Marissa left the room. Marco got out his mobile, and dialed his client's number. "Burn the nearest Sentry posters. Then, come in here. After about 10 minutes, a man with blond hair, pale skin, and startling blue eyes entered his office. "Hand it over. FuzzyBun is dead." The man replied, "Sure? Do you have any proof?" Marco brought out the dead bunny. The man nodded, and then handed over a briefcase. Then, he left quickly. Ahh. Marco opened the briefcase, and saw the bills all lined up. Enough to pay for a couple more assassinations. I love my work.

Edited April 28, 2016 by breakingamber

[Blackhoof]

Sophia knocked gently on the door, preparing herself for another terrifying encounter with FuzzyBun. 

 

The Epic was minor in power- with only the ability to summon and control cute rabbits, but she was nothing like the cute critters she called forth. A mere week ago Fuzzy had gotten annoyed at a maid who had allegedly not folded her towels properly. The maid had been found dangling from Fuzzy's balcony, hanged by a towel and her mouth stuffed with rabbit fur.

 

That said, Sophia shivered, Fuzzy wasn't any worse than most other Epics in Salem. 

 

Silence answered her knock. She waited. She knocked again, slightly louder.

 

Once again, silence, and waiting.

 

Sophia frowned. "That's odd...." Fuzzy always answered the door, smiling and chuckling as she petted a rabbit, dead or alive.

 

She was about to leave when she leaned on the door and it opened. The maid started, but did nothing as the door slowly swung open. This is it, I'm dead, she's going to kill me, or feed me to her bunnies, or or or....

 

But nothing happened. Fuzzy should have been awake by now, it was mid-afternoon after all. Sophia saw two plates of food- breakfast and lunch, sitting untouched on trays on the table. What was going on?

 

"Miss.... FuzzyBun? Are you there, m'lady?" Receiving no response, Sophia slowly went further into the apartment. "I'm the maid, I'm just here to gather your washing. Hello?"

 

The curtains and blinds were shut, the room shadowy and ill-lit. The door to her bedroom loomed up ahead, shrouded in darkness and slightly open. "H-hello?" The maid approached, curiosity overwhelming caution. She gazed at the foreboding crack of darkness that led to Fuzzy's bedroom. "M-Miss Fuzzy?"

 

She opened the door.

 

Sophia screamed.

 

..........................

 

Hotel security arrived shortly, seeing a sight that none had ever seen outside of the Dreamstate. A dead Epic. 

 

The Salem Police Force was notified, and Mouldbreaker was informed. 

[Mckeedee123]

 

Newcomers never really appreciated the Burning District.

 

Mouldbreaker could see it on Outlaw's face. The man was confused by the juxtaposition of broad, tightly packed streets with cultivated farmland, nervous about the massive pyres of multicolored flame lining the roadways, and even more apprehensive about entering them head-on. Mouldbreaker considered explaining the fires to Outlaw, but... some things just had to be experienced directly. He'd get it eventually, anyway. The fires couldn't really hurt you, and, in fact, were really quite beautiful, simply harmless by-products of the powerset of the rather odd Epic that called this region his own.

 

Ghostfire's gang was a powerful element in Salem. they'd operated this land semi-independently since way back when Inferno had been ruling the town, just after the Capitulation Act. She and her partner, Maelstrom, had burned, crushed, and swept away vast sections of the city in an effort to turn it into an agricultural hub in the years prior to Soulcaster's arrival, and subsequent murder of the pair. What remained of the suburbs, and most of the south and eastern ends of the city proper, were stretches of poor, but arable, farmland, dotted with the occasional ruin used to house workers. Sure, you could find a working piece of industrial equipment in other parts of the city occasionally, and that's what fueled Salem's failing manufacturing industry, but for the most part, Salem was a farming town. It was a farming town with a relatively enormous population, a stable government, and an extraordinarily popular attraction which people spectated from one end of the Fractured States to the other, but it was a farming town nonetheless. Epic dictatorships for miles and miles around imported food from Salem.

 

The Burning District was one of the more recognizable features of Salem. The colored flames could be seen in the night sky from miles away. The other was The Spires, massive spikes and arches running across the city, forged from pure titanium. They were another souvenir from Inferno's regime, created by Springsteel as a bounded across the city to battle her enemies. No one could figure out how to extract the metal from the spires, and they seemed stable enough, so they just sort of... stayed. From a distance, Salem looked like a giant porcupine. The locals liked it. It made the city distinctive.

 

Mouldbreaker was on his way to the warehouse Ghostfire ran his territory out of, and he'd brought Outlaw with him. Over the course of the day's fights, he'd taken a liking to the man. He wasn't boisterous or proud, like most Epics, he just sort of stood there and listened. Mouldbreaker could work this guy. So when he'd gotten a call about an incident between Ghostfire and the Rift Cult, one of its bordering semi-kingdoms, he'd decided to bring him along, maybe teach him how to defuse the situations that the hotheaded idiots who ran the farms got themselves into daily. In this case a Rift Cult militiaman, in uniform, walking through the burned district, getting captured and starting off a round of threats and posturing between the two factions.

 

He had almost reached the warehouse when his mobile rang. Distracted, he fumbled with it for a second before answering. "Hello?"

 

Antithesis was on the other end, barely able to contain her glee. "We've found a body. I think that the next few days are going to be pretty interesting."

 

---

 

Considering her powerset, it was ironic that Antithesis enjoyed chaos so much. It wasn't really the crazy, violent, let's-watch-the-world-burn kind of chaos. It was more the sort of interpersonal conflict and let's-turn-everybody's-lives-into-a-bad-soap-opera kind of chaos. He preferred it to Showstopper's blatant sadism, at any rate, even if the quirk made Antithesis an inefficient tool at times. Take her reaction to this sparking Epic assassination, for example. People would be talking and fighting and angry and tense, and that in itself seemed to make her happy.

 

She was smart, though. Brilliant. Most of the time, she used that to play people off of each other for her own amusement, when she really wanted to, however, she could negotiate Salem's complex political landscape with a skill that left even Mouldbreaker baffled. She rounded out the main three City Guard members. Mouldbreaker could transform inanimate objects into fruit-flavored gelatin, a power which sounded ridiculous but was actually surprisingly useful. Showstopper had enhanced strength and the ability to cancel out another Epic's power of her choice, and Antithesis could negate the powers of energy Epics and prevent matter from its usual "flow" from areas of high concentration to low on a small scale with low precision, which was... extremely weird, and highly situational, but... it was what it was.

 

She hadn't bothered waiting for him before trying to figure out what had happened. They didn't really have proper forensics anymore, but they could still deduce some stuff. They'd probably gotten about as much out of the scene as they possibly could at this point.

 

He strode over to Antithesis. "Hey there, What have you found?"

 

She gave a lazy salute. The Guard didn't really espouse formalities like that, but she liked to greet him that way. He did technically outrank her. Barely. "Yeah, okay. So originally, we didn't think anything was wrong, but with how she ticked off the Grease Squad last week, we figured we'd try and see if she'd been assassinated as part of that rivalry, and... she was." She shrugged.

 

"Okay."

 

"No signs of a struggle, no visible marks on the body. Lungs, heart, all that stuff looks fine, as far as we know, so it wasn't mustard gas or anything. The guys who we sent to check her out were about to send us the 'okay,' except then they opened up the brain. It's... it's not how brains are supposed to look. Necrosis. She was probably killed with some sort of neurotoxin, which... is just nuts. Who around here even has access to chemical weapons like that?"

 

Mouldbreaker had to absorb that for a moment. Epic killings were not common around here. Vanilla militiamen were executed occasionally as part of the politics of Salem's "turf wars," but an Epic hadn't been murdered within city limits for... a year and a half, maybe? On the last occasion, when Sockrock had died in a skirmish between him and the Towelsnappers, Mouldbreaker had brought the entire guard together to utterly annihilate the offenders. Letting them get away with something like that would have set an awful precedent.

 

And now it had happened again. There was only one way that he could reasonably deal this situation, and that was by killing the perpetrator in punishment. 

 

"Antithesis, let's talk detective stuff."

Edited May 5, 2016 by Mckeedee123

[Quiver]

"The bar? Now, wait-"

Except Abaddon didn't wait. He hung up, almost before Sentry had had time to process what he had said.

 

It was almost a novel experience. After all, Sentry's powerset relied on being able to process what she saw from her pictures. Playing catch-up might have made for an interesting change of pace, if it wasn't so utterly terrifying.

 

Sparks, sparks, sparks. She stared at the piece of plastic and electronics in her hand as if it were the one responsibility for her situation, torn between pocketing it and throwing it away in a rage...

Except Sentry did not rage. At least, she did not do so in public, for all to see. Not that that did anything to change what she was feeling beneath her strained smile.

 

That slontze, she repeated. He breezes into town, right when someone starts flouting my-she caught herself- start's flouting Soulcasters laws. Then he calls about it, and arranges for an exchange?

 

She was starting to pace on the street, ignoring any of the looks it was receiving. She was an epic, after all.

 

"No," she muttered. "No, no, no. That is far too coincidental. Taking 'Vandal' to a public place..." The idea that it was to make the exchange as 'safe' as possible was laughable. No doubt what was intended to happen was that Senty would walk through the barroom doors, Abaddon would put a 'pain bolt' through her head, and declare himself the new de facto powerhouse of Salem.

 

Yes, she thought darkly. That was a far more likely situation than him actually doing what he was supposed to do. After all, at the end of the day, Abaddon was just like Soulcaster. He was another one of those epic's who had been cursed with more powers than brains, and thought that they could get what they want just by flexing their muscles. No doubt vandalising Sentry's posters, then blaming it on 'Sandal' to lure her out passed for his idea of cunning.

 

Unfortunatly for Abaddon, Sentry was not an idiot. Even if, apparently, she had been getting soft.

 

She folded her phone shut, slipped it into her pocket, and started to consider her options.

The one thing she absolutely would not be doing would be going to that bar. 

[RippleGylf]

 

"Problems?" Sentry clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "There are no problems in Salem."

"You'll have to meet with Soulcaster first of course," she added quickly, "and I'm sure an ability like yours will have all sorts of uses. But problems? No. We don't have problems here. We are a very happy, very close-knit commun-"

 

Heartsleeve, knowing very well how fear manifested itself on a face, couldn't help but recognize this emotion splattered over Sentry. Something had truly scared the smug watcher of the city. 

 

"I... I... what was I saying?"

 

Suddenly, Sentry's cell phone went off. Irritated, the Epic picked up. 

 

"What?" she demanded, with a subtle snarl in her voice. She paused, listening to the voice hidden from Heartsleeve's ears. That was irritating, only hearing half of the conversation. 

 

"Back in Salem," Sentry replied, obviously attempting to improve her tone. "Well! No doubt Soulcaster will be pleased. However, I am quite busy, and if you want to have a talk, you'll have to put a request in through the proper chan-"

 

She stopped. There were definitely problems in Salem, at least now. No patronizing words from Sentry could fix that.

 

Her eyes flickered, with either anger or fear, Heartsleeve mused.

 

"...Well," Sentry said slowly. "That's... good. Very good. I don't know when you got back, but I commend you on completing your civic duty! Soulcaster will be very pleased, I'm sure."

 

Her face belied her words, with rage written all over her features, which quickly turned to shock. "The bar? Now, wait-"

Too late with her response, the caller hung up. A strained smile was carefully worn, but Heartsleeve had seen enough. A bit of murmuring followed, before the phone slipped back into its owner's pocket.

 

Proceeding would take some skill. Obviously, Sentry was unsettled by this phone call, and certainly did not need someone who had just broken an apparently fundamental rule of Salem to barge in. She figured a nice, gentle, offering of services would suffice.

 

"Any orders?" Heartsleeve asked, trying not to sound inquisitive or demanding. Humility didn't come naturally, but it was needed now.

[breakingamber]

As usual, Sandal's taking red, Amber's blue.

 

Vandal replied “Well, my art is obstructing nothing, and if this Sentry person has something to say about it, then they she can tell me herself. Until then, it stays.”

 

Abaddon froze. How dare this… cretin… Abaddon turned around, and he turned up the dial on Vandal. He fell to the ground twitching and screaming. Oops. Too much. He removed some pain, but kept enough to keep him whimpering. “Sorry about this. But: I recommend you don’t disrespect Sentry.” He removed the pain entirely, and Vandal gasped in relief. “Sentry’s power is to see out of her posters. She’s kind of a paranoid meglomaniac, and she’s very close with Soulcaster. If you don’t get rid of the magical sharpie right now, I will make you wish you were dead. What do you say?”

 

Vandal pulled himself off the ground. This person isn't going to stop being a bore is he? Well, fine then. ”Fine, if you insist your bossiness.” Vandal went to the nearest poster and tracing over his exact lines, removed his marking. He turned back to the man and put his hand out. “Now that that's out of the way, maybe we can get on better terms. Hi, I'm Vandal.”

 

Abaddon shook hands with Vandal. “I’m Abaddon. Salem is famous for it’s fights. I’m presuming that’s why you came here? Or did you come here just to vandalize Sentry’s posters?”

 

“I was just wandering around when I found this city. The last place I was couldn't appreciate my art. When I saw the posters, I have hoping this city would be different.” Vandal sighed sadly. While he was shaking Abaddon's hand, he made sure to mark a small smiley face on the palm, and below it he wrote courtesy of Vandal, resurrection of imagination.

 

The other man sighed. Abaddon almost felt sorry for him. “Come with me. If you can make this work… then you could have everything, anything, you desire. The ruler of this city is named Soulcaster, and he can make something called a Dreamstate, in which anything can come true. However, you have to fight in his Arena first. Do you think you’re up to the challenge? If so, then follow me. There’s a bar where you have to register to join.” Abaddon started gliding without looking behind him, in the general direction of the bar.

 

Vandal looked at the back of Abaddon as he floated away. Fighting. Sorry, but that isn't really my thing. Besides, is no fun teaching people if they have no choice. Seeing that Abaddon wasn't looking, he quietly slipped down a nearby alley. Bye, Abaddon.

 

Abaddon reached the bar. For the first time, he looked behind him. Vandal was nowhere to be seen. Cretin. I'll find him later. Abaddon glided to the front of the bar. He signed up on the signup sheet and then he noticed Redshirt.

 

Redshirt was the lamest of lame Epics. His "Epic ability" was to attract any injury around him, coupled with a minor healing factor to prevent him from dying over and over again. His Arena fights were boring as well; what was the point of killing your opponent if you couldn't kill and torture them in exotic and strange ways? As such, he didn't even have a Dreamstate, let alone a fancy one like Abaddon.

 

Looking around again, he also noticed some other strange things. A white robed man standing next to Redshirt. A dizzy Doubletake-imagine that, Doubletake dizzy. "Hi Redshirt! How are you doing, my friend?"

[Screwloose]

The small dirt bike rolling into Salem looked innocent enough, if you discounted the fact it had no rider, as well as the fact that it appeared to have human eyes and ears growing out of the front. In fact the Bike looked downright out of place. The bike slowed to a halt outside what  looked like a local bar, glowed and was gone. In its place stood a man, with gangly limbs, messy hair and no clothes. 

"Sparks that was a long ride!" Crankshaft said, Stretching "I forgot how cramped being a bike gets after a while." Passers by were beginning to stare, although the vanillas were trying to be a bit more discreet about it. Guess they must not get many new faces around here, he thought. He glanced around. There really were a lot of people staring at him. Crankshaft glanced down at himself Ah, I forgot that I can't transform my clothes, I really liked that jacket too. Crankshaft scratched his head a moment, shrugged and then strode into the bar.

[ShadowLord_Lith]

The rising sun glinted off a metal object in the distance. Fast approaching came a man, his tan trench coat flapping wildly in the wind. In his arms is a child, curled up and asleep, skin cooled by the fast moving breeze. As the man approaches the city of Salem, an expression of smug anticipation crosses his face, he has Come all the way from the southern tip of chile to get here and he has finally arrived. Three minutes later, he stops at the edge of the city. He had come from the east, and the sun was still rising behind him, warming him and providing him with a halo of light to blind anyone trying too hard to look at him head on. The large, metallic grey object he was on, oblong and fairly thin, melted beneath him, slowly lowering him and the child in his arms to the ground. The metal continued to float in liquid, flowing lines around them as he walked through the city. Humans (most of the demons, himself included, called them vanillas) walked with their heads down, masks of anxiety and false disinterest covering their faces. He walked further into town wearing a poker face, only vaguely noticing the posters that completely covered some of the walls. He did notice how there weren't many objects in the city that had iron in them.  To few objects glowed red for him to be comfortable, so he set the child in a metallic hammock that he had formed and began dropping iron dust from his palms, grinning like a madman. He would enjoy this city.

[Voidus]

 

Meliability yawned as she lethargically sat up in bed, sleep-filled eyes opening slowly and blearily as light invaded her face.

And yet barely a second after opening her eyes she was already dressed and had a piece of toast in her mouth, a gale of wind swept through the house, blowing the small collection of items that she kept in her room around before settling again.

"Meliability, reporting for duty!" She said to her reflection, clumsily snapping a salute at herself before spinning around and examining her dress.

"And finally..."

She picked up the large slab of metal next to her bed which then shifted in her grip, one part forming into a chain that wrapped around her head before the bulk of it shifted into the form of a large scythe.

"Perfect."
Another gale force wind swept through the room as she left, leaving the room silent and empty.

[ShadowLord_Lith]

IronForge walked through the city, the vanillas cowering less obviously than they did in other places. That amused him, and he tapped one one the shoulder. "Yes, sir?" He said softly but firmly. 'My,' IronForge thought, 'this one is perfect. "I need someone to care for my brother here," he gestured to the sleeping child in his arms, " and I need a guide. Would you mind helping me? I'll offer my protection, and my good graces, as payment." The man grimaced, but took the child from IronForge's arms. IronForge grinned, "Lead me to where I can sign up for the famous Salem fights. Please." The pleasantry was an afterthought, but still there. The man lead him to a bar where he said to look for a man named think-tank. IronForge walked in and asked a waiter for directions, trying to ignore the other people in the bar.

Edited October 19, 2016 by ShadowLord_Lith

[Screwloose]

The Woman tending the bar was giving Crankshaft a very dirty glare. Clearly she was an Epic herself or else a very brave vanilla. Most of the other bar patrons were trying very hard not to stare at his lack of clothes, after all if an Epic wanted to walk around naked there wasn't much vanillas could do to stop him. Crankshaft was about to ask the Bartender for directions to the nearest clothes store when he noticed an Epic in a trenchcoat speaking with a waiter. Perfect, thought Crankshaft, hopping off his stall and making his way towards the Epic calling himself IronForge. "Excuse me mate," said Crankshaft, giving a little wave to get the mans attention "but I don't suppose I could borrow your coat for a bit? It looks just my size."

[ShadowLord_Lith]

IronForge turned to the man who had dared address him and did a double take. The man had to be an epic, no one else would dare go around dressed like that. Then the question registered. "Sure." He made his face expressionless and took off his coat, using the metal powder in the pockets to create a new one as he did so. "Here." IronForge handed him the piece of fabric. "Do you know where I can find an epic named think-tank?" He watched the man expecting a lie of some sort. Knowledge was always power.

Edited November 7, 2016 by ShadowLord_Lith

[Screwloose]

"Ta for the coat mate," Crankshaft said, shrugging on the trenchcoat and buttoning up the front, "I've no clue who this Think-Tanks is though. I've only just arrived in town meself to be honest." Checking the coat to make sure everything was covered Crankshaft continued, "But if he'd be able to give me some info on this town then i'd like to chat with him as well."

[DreamLord_Erith]

Steampunk decided that 30000 feet was not a place that was meant for the un-clothed. The readings he got from his plasma screen readout, told him it was cold enough to make him very uncomfortable, if not for his alto-suit he would be freezing. His suit read the wind currents and the wings on his suit shifted and flexed to compensate for differing wind speeds. He looked down on the town called Salem... it was decidedly unimpressive. The dome was cool,  could use some brass though. He saw a man flying on a piece of metal, that was way more spectacular. He hit the release button, he fell a long way down. He used his steampack to come to a hover and said in his most imposing voice, "yo what's up?" A passing vanilla, refusing to look imposed said, "if your looking to sign up for the fights, its in there." The vanilla pointed to the bar. Man, thought steampunk, I thought my entrance was awesome! But none even gave him a second glance. Sulking, steampunk walked into the bar, he saw an epic standing next to the cool epicthatcanflyonmetal guy.He walked over to the bar, and signed up for the fights in the famous town of Salem.

Edited October 25, 2016 by DreamLord_Erith
To clear up something

[Screwloose]

Crankshaft eyed the newcomer standing at the bar. The man seemed to be wearing interesting collection of machinery on his person, even if some of it did look a bit old fashioned. That kind of gear could come in useful. Excusing himself from IronForge for a moment Crankshaft strode over to where the man, Steampunk, was standing.

"Alright mate?" Grinned Crankshaft, slapping Steampunk on the back of his alto-suit playfully. "Here for the fights too are yah? Don't suppose you know where me and my mate IronForge over there can sign up do you?."

As he said this Crankshaft spotted a pile of application forms sitting at the bar. "Ah nevermind mate, I got it" He said, grabbing a form and scrawling his details onto it with a mechanical pencil that had suddenly replaced one of his fingers. After handing the form to one of the bartenders he turned back to Steampunk.

"I dunno about you mate but i'm parched. How about a drink?" Crankshaft said amicably, one of his hands glowing before being replaced by a Mobile "Don't worry, i'm paying."

[ShadowLord_Lith]

I walked over to the man who sported my coat, after noticing that he had found the forms needed to gain a fight. I gabbed one and looked to the bar keeper. " I do hope that you have a pen on you, it would be a great pity if you didn't at least know where one was." I kept my vouce smooth, almost like I was speaking to a lover in the dead of night. My eyes were leveled at him, however, with a deadly seriousness. "If you happen to know where one is, I would greatly appreciate it if you would go get it for me." My grin was confidante, almost cocky. I mentally dared him to deny me. Then I remembered my brother. I grimaced. "I'll be back in a moment, and nevermind about the pen. I have what I need." I manuvered some of my metal onto the page, filling it out with thin lines of dust which I promptly liquified and then solidified. My information was permanently bonded with the paper now, I would pay to see someone try to mess with it and succeed. then I handed the card to the bartender and walked out to the vanilla, standing outside the bar and looking impatient. " I'll take my brother... what was your name again?" he leveled his gaze at me. "My name is Ryan, and here he is." Ryan handed me my brother, gently, and stood there waiting. " I need a hotel room, but I'm not done here yet. Would you mind getting me a hotel room? I'd appreciate it ever so much." My smile was about as sincere as I'd ever managed to give to someone that wasnt an epic. Ryan nodded and started to walk away. "And Ryan?" he turned to look at me. "Come tell me when you finish getting me a room. Please?"  He nodded and started walking away again. "Thank you, Ryan." I said. then I turned and walked back into the bar. I walked over to where CrankShaft was conversing with some strange technology epic. "Whats up, guys?" I said, my arms cradling a sleeping child.

 

Edited November 7, 2016 by ShadowLord_Lith

[DreamLord_Erith]

 "Not much" said Steampunk. "Cool kid... I was wondering, do any of you mind taking a trip to greece in a year or so? I have a problem there. A group of ten epics have dicided that my city is so good that they want to kill or enslave me to have it.I dont really like being killed or enslaved. So please, if its alright with you, I would like your help." With that out of the way, Steampunk started building a clockwork soldier. The clockwork soldier was a machine designed to replicate itself by finding parts and building more of, as well as improving themselves. Given enough time and parts, these soldiers would conquer most cities. Soulcaster's city would be no exception. If it came to that. Of course these soldiers never slept and so, were imune to soulcaster's powers. If worse came to worst, Steampunk would reprogram them to kill soulcaster right after he ended a mass dreamstate.

Edited November 8, 2016 by DreamLord_Erith

[ShadowLord_Lith]

I 'saw' the red creatures scuttle away and go... somewhere. This epic was good with tech. I filed the information away in my head for future reference should I need it. "I don't know... Greece sounds like an interesting place... And I've never been. It'd be fun, but it's up to sonny here." I motioned to the child in my arms. He'd wake up soon enough. He wanted to see the fights and, eventually, join them himself. I'd lost on that battle. My body was perfectly positioned to move if need be, and my mind was already creating a thousand different routes I could use to either escape or attack with, but the part of me that actually thought, that part was distracted, thinking about the day I'd met impersonation. Those were fond memories... I spoke. "What're your stories?"I was simply curious, though my mind justified it by saying there was value in knowing someone's history.

[DreamLord_Erith]

I quickly build a small laser pointer for young Sonny.

"this" I tell Ironforge "can be set to three levels, normal,hotsie, and burned to a cinder, give that to youg Sonny for me please." With that I start my story.

"I come from Greece, I am one of the twelve. The Twelve are me and eleven other epics that have been modeled after the twelve olympians, zues is ruler, Hera his wife, posidon, hades, those guys.

"I am the incarnation of Haphaestus the god of smithing and fire. My power-set is a little different, but I still am very dangerous. 

"The others of The twelve want my city. Mainly because their own cities lack anything other than what they specialize in. Hades has jewels aplenty, posidon provides a lot of fish and saltwater. Demeter gives grain and the like. Hera has fields of cows and areas for peacocks. So on and so on.

"I provide technology and pretty much anything my people could want. I have a team of epics back at Cog city-my city- that provide power, food, freshwater, and other necessities. But they only stay there because they trust in me and my ability to defeat any Epic that comes calling.Unfortunately even I can't defeat 10 members of the twelve.

"Also, I have a lovely wife at Cog city. Her name is Aphrodite. She is the face of Cog city. Just don't touch her bushes. The last time an Epic attacked Cog city, he burned down a bunch of her rose bushes. It... was hard to clean up what was left of that particular Epic. 

"Anyway, I came here looking to improve my skills at fighting in order to protect the ones I love frome the ten traitorous Epics threatining Cog city. And maybe recruit some Epics to help me out along the way. What's your story Crankshaft?"

 

Edited March 12, 2017 by DreamLord_Erith
Needed a proper intro.

[Screwloose]

CrankShaft leaned back on his bar stool, a can of what appeared to be engine oil in his hand. "Me? I was in the clink back in England, whats now the New British Empire, when my powers came to me. 'Course I broke out as soon as I realised what I could do and thought i'd travel around a bit, see the world y'know? It's not like anyone can stop me going places now. I've been exploring the fractured states for a couple of years now, an Epic down south mentioned this place and the fights so I thought it'd be fun to give it a look." CrankShaft took a sip from the can he was holding. "Greece sounds interesting though. Maybe i'll visit when I get round to Europe, though I doubt that'll be anytime soon, there's so much to see here in the states."

[ShadowLord_Lith]

IronForge looked at the demons he'd 'befriended'. In reality, they knew each others general background and had a common interest. That wasn't enough for him to consider them his friends. Still, they had given their stories... He let out a sigh and began talking.

"I became what I am around two years ago, and I went to try out ruling in a country that wasn't as... wary of my reputation. Me and Sonny left the ruins of what used to be South America and made our way to the ruins of what used to be New Mexico. There, I perfected my english and heard about Salem." 

He paused a moment, considering just how much of his life he planned on revealing. He decided to finish his story and answer their question if they asked for details. He didn't need to hide anything. Except of course, his exact power portfolio and his aversion to certain... things. 

"Shortly after that, we wound up here. I met you two, and here we are." He liquefied his metallic coat, keeping it in its shape out of subconscious will. "Do you have any questions for me?" He almost hoped they did; it would be pleasant to have people he trusted again.

 'More people I trust,' he thought to himself, 'I'd trust Impersonation with my life. I already have.' He refocused on the people in front of him. He would enjoy this conversation while it lasted.

Edited April 5, 2017 by ShadowLord_Lith