What Happened In Astoria

[Edgedancer he/him]

In theory having more muscle to do all the bothersome work for you was a pleasant thing. The problem came in with convincing the muscle that it was cheaper than the fat on his hands. A difficult task, given that muscle wasn’t known for being particularly smart. Black Jaguar did not prove himself to be the exception and given that they let him do the talking, it felt safe for Dragoon to assume that neither were his associates. They were High Epics, so? That simply meant that they themselves could take a beating, not that they were even close to the competence his horseman had at accomplishing their tasks.

 

Still, eventually they had reached an agreement. The Destructors had not quite understood just how little they were worth compared to the supplies they were asking for but he did manage to make them agree to work for a lower fee than Blackwave’s crew, without pointing it out to them obviously. In the best case scenario, the fee per kill agreement might actually save him a good deal of money, assuming the Destructors end up performing properly. Should they not, well even his already brilliant strategy could be enhanced with a good distraction, even if it ended up being more expensive than he would have liked.

 

The negotiations done with, he had dismissed Blackwave to do whatever pirates do to raise morals before an attack, without broadcasting their intentions or leaving the place in shambles. The Destructors on the other hand he send with Affinity, as well as War and Journey to keep her safe, to make the necessary preparations for equipping them. Dragoon himself made the necessary work, well work was a strong term, more like delegating to his minions in a way that made certain they wouldn’t mess things up, to inform his benefactor of the enhancements made to the plan. All while eating his grapes naturally.

[Blackhoof]

 

The negotiations took time, with a great deal of intimidation coming from all sides, but eventually the were resolved. Three of Dragoon's Epics, at least Jag assumed that's who they were, went with them to prepare the equipment. 

 

They had received several new and improved armoured vehicles, and a jet, as well as several dozen tough looking men to replace the commandos the had lost. It was a short walk to Dragoon's warehouses, and Jag paused to admire what looked like an old-timey pirate ship of all things in the bay. Must be where the pirates came from, he thought to himself. Affinity took them inside one of the warehouses, and Jag was stunned at what he saw. Rows and rows of armoured vehicles, tanks, trucks and jeeps, from both before and after Calamity. She pointed out in turn which ones they would be getting- two Stryker APCs, a Bradley and an upgraded pre-Calamity M1 Abrams tank, equipped with gravatonic recoil stabilisers. The cannon was no different, but Dragoon assured him that the shells were the latest and most advanced variety. The jet was post-Calamity, and kept in a special shed further down the line.

 

Sleek, black, and prickling with missles, it was a beauty. Metalmech whistled when he saw it. "Helloooo pretty lady!" He ran his hand down its chassis like it was a sports car. "Well ain't you a beaut-ay...."

Affinity rolled her eyes. "I trust everything is to your satisfaction?"

Jag smiled. "Yes indeed, these will all do nicely. Now, let's gather them all and greet our new soldiers!"

 

Hawkwing pulled Jag to the side as the others left the shed. "Something wrong?"

Hawk looked troubled. "Jag, I've been having second thoughts about this."

Jag frowned. "About what?"

"About attacking Astoria again. You know how badly we got whacked last time."

"Exactly, we need revenge! I'm not about to let some poncy slontzes makes fools outta us without saying something about it."

"This is serious Jag, we barely know anything about them. I'm not keen on dying over and over again trying to beat some intangible butler, a blood witch, a guy who controls water and a gang of annoying minor Epics, we can't fight them until we know their weaknesses. Remember that Epic who kept throwing trees at you? We don't have the capability to fight against these powers."

Jag growled, and grabbed Hawk by the scruff of the neck. "I am in charge of the Destructors, me! And I say we are attacking Astoria and plundering it for ourselves. You will follow my orders or I will rip out your throat myself, got it!" Hawk snarled, eyes going hard. 

 

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

 

Finally, Hawk relented. "Fine," he almost spat. 

Jag let him down. "Good. And don't forget it."

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

There was a KFC in Astoria that the Financier had never paid much attention. It was an abandoned restaurant in a landscape littered with abandoned restaurants; and while he had some fond memories of pre-Calamity visits to that chain, he had little reason to bother with an abandoned building.

 

Until one day, when he heard laughter.

 

He had decided to visit the old restaurant on a whim, as he sometimes did. Visit and remember when the place was filled with families and students and others there for a quick bite, the smells of fried chicken and potatoes, the clanks and clatters from the kitchen. It calmed him, in a small way, to remember a time before Savior Zero showed him the light. A time when Savior Zero was everywhere and nowhere.

 

On the day he visited, the KFC should have been empty. As always. But the sounds of laughter drifted out from the open door. He froze, holding it there. Laughter. Two girls, maybe more. In the KFC, his KFC, laughing and laughing.

 

 

“Show yourselves!” he said, letting the door fall closed behind him. “If you are agents of the One, the Savior shall deal with you through me!” 

[Blackhoof]

 

....
The plan will commence shortly. Send me the updated details of our plan of attack, with these Destructors as part of it. In addition, I will expect your payment for these services rendered. 

I hope that your "calculator" knows what he is doing.

 

Winterspell smiled as he read the last part of the note. Indeed, Blindsight knew exactly what he was doing. The Epic had never let him down before, never been wrong. He wouldn't fail him now.

 

The Ice King froze the small slip of paper, which had been delivered by a teleporter in a hidden room, and smashed in into tiny shards. He collected the shards with his power and buried them into the ice of his fortress itself, to join the other messages he had received from Dragoon. Likely, he thought, amused, they will not be found. At least not until his fortress falls and someone pieces them together, of course.

 

"Fish!" He called, and the Epic, standing at attention, saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

"Bring the frozen corpses to the basement. I wish to store them there, until I can decide what to do with them."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

 

Fish obeyed. Obviously, the excuse for the order was a pretence. He needed the bodies in the basement so that Fish could move them, underwater, to Dragoon as well as the updated plans. It shouldn't take Blindsight more than-

"Sir, I have finished my calculations." Predictably, Blindsight entered the room not long after reading the note himself, bowing lightly. 

"I will say that I am uncertain that we have good odds for the success of this plan. I calculate a mere 24% chance of a complete success, and that is of course not including the various partial successes and outcomes that can be really classed as neither. I would heartily suggest an extraction plan for us and the Keep Epics if, as I have predicted there is a 36% chance of happening, the mission is a complete failure and the Metal, Deathgale and Mary come after us."

 

Winterspell frowned, but nodded. "Calculate one, but I doubt I will use it. I have lived my life under the shadow of these tyrants for too long. If we flee they can chase us. Chase me. Icesteel Keep will emerge victorious in this struggle, as the new power on the border, or it will fall into the waves. And all of us with it."

[Aonar he/him]

 

The fleshwarper disappeared. Unease tinged Azrael’s thoughts. That’s not right. If he has a teleportation secondary, he would’ve used it by now… He quested out with his awareness, waiting. The darkness swirled and eddied, as if caught in a light breeze. His eyes narrowed. Something is here. But why can’t I see it directly?

 

A feeling almost like pain sprang into being in Azrael’s mind, a shuddering, horrifying wrongness. One of his constructs was moving against his will. It was as if one of his own limbs suddenly belonged to someone else.

 

Instinctively, he lashed out against it, forcing it back under his control. As he did so, he felt Bioterror suddenly recoalesce inside the room, standing over the offending shadow. Spark this. I’ve wasted far too much time here, achieving nothing. With a moment’s thought, he warped outside, dismissing his constructs. Almost immediately, he could feel the various fragments of Bioterror’s body trying to reform. Good. Separation clearly wasn’t the right tactic.

 

Casting out mentally, Azrael drew the mist that had shrouded the tower back into the observatory, forcing it to condense into a material resembling aerogel.

 

Pausing for a moment, he could sense Bioterror struggling within; larger and stronger now than he was before, but still unable to make much headway.

 

That will have to be enough.

 

After a moment’s further contemplation, he stepped back, disappearing in a cloud of fine black threads.

 

 

A few hours had passed, and the sun now hung high in the sky.

 

On a dusty street miles away from Astoria, a young man walked alone. Dressed in plain black sweats and a hoodie, he was utterly unremarkable aside from his height. He walked carefully, hooded head turning at each intersection; assessing each turn before striding confidently onwards.

 

Eventually, he came to an alley, empty of anyone save himself. Far down the wall, someone had crudely painted a pair of scales in hot pink spray paint, with a number of obscenities and lewd drawings arrayed about them.

 

The man tilted his head quizzically, then shrugged. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked through the wall.

 

On the other side of the illusion, two startled guards hurriedly raised rifles. "What is your business?"

 

Rather than respond, the man simply pulled up one of his sleeves. On his forearm was an intricate tattoo in plain black ink; a pair of scales resting on the point of a sword, with a heart and a feather held in balance.

 

The guard's wariness seemed only to increase, although they lowered their guns. "Right this way, sir."

 

They lead him on to a door, plain and unadorned, deep within the building.

 

"Accord is inside."

 

The man opened the door and pushed back his hood, revealing pitch black eyes.

 

"Hello Accord," Azrael said.

 

Behind a cluttered desk at the far end of the room, a sharply dressed man looked up in surprise. "Azrael! What brings you here again?" A look of puzzlement crossed his face.  "And however did you get past the guards?"

 

The same symbol that had been on Azrael's arm sketched itself in the air between them.

 

Accord tsked disappointedly. "Forging my sigil? That must be a new low for you, my friend. Usually you make a point of killing at least a few vanillas, if just to keep up appearances."

 

New lines sketched themselves in the air, this time forming words. I believe there may be enemies of mine listening in on this conversation. I would like to maintain a certain amount of discretion.

 

"Ah, of course. So this is a business trip then, I gather. By the way, how is the League working out with you?"

 

As well as could be expected, given the circumstances. Which brings me to my business; last I was here, you had an Epic that excelled at destroying biological material on staff, did you not? I could use her services in my current endeavor.

"Ah, yes, Àreadbhar... she... died two weeks ago."

 

Azrael's eyebrows shot up. Wasn't she a High Epic? Did someone discover her weakness?

 

"Not exactly. I've had tissue samples sent to Knighthawk, but you know how he is. I might get something back next week; I might never get anything back at all.

 

"But, I might be able to get you something better. I can get you the one who killed her."

Edited May 7, 2016 by Aonar Faileas

[Mckeedee123 he/him]

Corpsemaster rumbled along Route 26 in a beaten pickup truck, feeling content. It had been a very productive night.

 

He hit a particularly bad bump on the road, and his eyes flicked over to the rear-view mirror, checking to make sure that none of his cargo had fallen out. Eight years after Calamity, the roads were in pretty bad condition. Barely usable, really, but he was glad that they still served their purpose. When the road system finally did fail, Corpsemaster would be unable to make these little body runs, and he'd have to snatch his servants from within the city of Astoria itself, which might cause trouble. Portlanders had much less power to protest his incursions.

 

As he turned his attention back to the road, something caught his eye. Two human figures, walking along the road away from Portland. Middle-aged. Male and female. Armed. Dare he risk it? Dare he add two more bodies to his load? What if they rendered his truck impotent? He sucked on his cheek for a moment.

 

Aw, what the heck. Without braking, he shrugged his hunting rifle onto his shoulder and took a quick potshot at the couple. It went wide, blowing a chunk out of a tree behind them. The two of them whirled around, taking a moment to register the attack, then bolted into the pines. Corpsemaster licked his lips and floored the gas pedal, wheeling off the side of the road in hot pursuit. As he wove his way through the densely-packed trees, he began reaching out with his power, summoning a group of minions in anticipation of the kill. The tarp spread over the truckbed began to ripple and shift as the bodies underneath transformed. Spines arched, bones shifted and snapped, and a pack of creatures that were not fully human started poking appendages out of the sheet of cloth that held them down. He mentally gave them the command to wait, and they shuffled back underneath.

 

Up ahead, the couple appeared to exchange a glance, and then the woman stopped running, turned around, and clicked the safety off of her shotgun. Corpsemaster floored the gas, and she only managed to get one shot off before he clipped her with his truck, knocking her into a tree with a crunch. The buckshot blew apart his windshield and a good portion of it embedded itself in his throat, but he ignored the damage, hitting the brakes and commanding his corpselings to attack.

 

In a surge of rabid excitement, a pack of reanimated bodies clambered out of the truckbed and tackled the woman's prone form, punching, kicking, and biting. She screamed as her warm, fresh blood mingled with the corpses' cooling viscera,. After a few seconds' struggle, her arms ceased flailing and she choked her last breath, buried in a furious mound of undead flesh. Corpsemaster tutted and ordered the creatures to go after the male.

 

He raised her quickly and had her bring her pack to him. Dried food, ammunition, and assorted camping supplies. Not a bad take. He continued rifling through her pack until a tortured howl announced the capture of the male. Corpsemaster always tried to take some alive on these runs. Corpselings were nice, but they weren't really... subjects. Every Epic needed someone to rule, and Astoria had more than enough supplies to feed whoever he decided to drag back into The Catacombs.

 

Sobbing, the male was pulled before Corpsemaster, who gave him a quick inspection, then jerked his thumb towards the truck. The corpselings chattered their teeth and dragged him up into the bed, prompting a new round of screaming, which continued as they piled on top of him, trapping him underneath for the long trip back to Astoria. Corpsemaster picked a bit at his healed throat, then climbed back into the truck and headed off.

[Citadel16 he/him]

 

Antimatter glanced at Deathgale. He was just going to let him do the dirty work? Antimatter growled. There was a thousand ways he could do this and he was half tempted to leave and let Deathgale deal with these problems.

            But no. If he wanted his revenge he would have to go along with it.

            “Fine.” Antimatter said “Harkness!”

            Behind Deathgale, sitting on the portion of wall that had crushed their table, was Harkness staring contemplatively at the brick that had killed him moments ago, which he held in his hands. He looked up.

            “Yeah, bro?”

            “Get over here,” the reincarnation epic hopped down next to Deathgale. ”let’s try flash and drop.” Antimatter said.

            Harkness smiled and pulled a smoke grenade from his jacket, pulled the pin and dropped it to the floor.

            Then it exploded into smoke.

            Ragnarok growled, shrugging off the rubble with a burst of TK. His chest burned with pain. His shirt was in tatters, and his chest felt as if it had been exposed to the sun for an entire day in Florida.

            He had to admit, he probably hadn’t handled that as well as he should have.  Sloppy. He wondered for a moment why he did it. Was he just frustrated? Was it because he was an epic? Was it because some dork pulling his strings thought it would be cool?

            Probably because he’d made it into the habit of killing people Stormeggedon wanted to recruit.

            Regardless, he was in a mess and he wouldn’t leave until he either recruited Antimatter or killed him.

            The place, the bar it had seemed like, exploded into smoke.

*            *             *

 

            Antimatter burst from the smoke.

            No destruction, no side casualties. Antimatter couldn’t throw his weight around on this one. He would need to be precise, small and hit hard. He could change the size of his explosions. Make them smaller.

            Making his hand into a finger gun, Antimatter casually raised it and shot a blast with about the strength of a sixty caliber bullet towards Ragnarok’s face.

            It exploded exactly three feet away from the epic.

               That was interesting, Antimatter thought. He had a quick telekinetic perk, and the ability to construct telekinetic barriers it seemed. What he needed to know was whether it was the telekinetic energy that was blocking him or if it where the air molecules thickening.

            Something grabbed Antimatter and tossed him into the air sending him up twenty feet before he began sailing towards the ground.

            His mind was going a million miles an hour. He could process a thought one hundred times the speed of an average person when his Intellect was active. The world didn’t seem slower per se, but he did pick up thousands of different details that he would have missed otherwise.

            He twisted in midair, and hit the ground rolling. The roll quickly became a tumble that tore and scuffed up his pea coat. The asphalt grinded his skin. He slowed as he hit part of a building that was made of crystal.

            A mix of a growl and a groan escaped his lips. He stood, the marks on his body didn’t bleed, they weren’t even red. Across his body were black spots of torn skin that dropped grey ash instead of blood.

            He felt at his face, realizing that a large portion of it had been torn away, exposing his sections of his teeth. He took his hand back and saw it covered in ash. He also had a putrid taste in his mouth.

               Scariness level: twoface, he thought.

***

 

            Ragnarok threw the epic twenty feet in the air. Did the fool actually think he could-?

            There was a loud crack and something slapped him across the face. He turned to see the epic Harkness loading a double barreled shotgun. What were his powers again?

            Ragnarok smirked.

            Harkness frowned as he finished loading. “What? Not all of us can have flashy powers.” He leveled the gun and pulled the trigger.

            Before the firing pin even hit, the shotgun was jerked upwards towards the sky.

            “Not everyone deserves flashy powers,” Ragnarok said.

            Then he pulled Harkness’ head from his body.

            Turning to face Antimatter, who was struggling to his feet. Ragnarok took a step forward.

            Immediately a ceramic pot smashed against his head. Ragnarok blinked and turned around. Harkness was sitting on a ledge behind him, innocently sipping from a flask.

            Reincarnation. Right.

            Ragnarok jerked Harkness into the air and threw him lightly at a stop sign. As he hit, Ragnarok twisted the metal around him, tightly enough that he wouldn’t be able to free himself.

            Harkness struggled a few times before sighing. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “Stop. You want me to stop. So you tied me up with a stop sign. That’s actually kinda funny.”

            Ragnarok grinned. At least someone understood his-.

            Why was he so focused on Harkness?

            Ragnarok spun just in time to throw up a telekinetic barrier. The explosion, thrown by Antimatter, was blocked by Ragnarok’s barrier.

***

 

            Antimatter immediately threw another blast. It rushed through the hole in the defense he had made and it crashed against Ragnarok’s legs. He tripped, but instead of falling towards the ground he stopped midway and sailed into the air.

            Pain was a funny thing. It wasn’t real. Not even close. But it was one of the most feared things on the planet. But Antimatter didn’t really fear pain. He could process it easier and deal with it better than most people on the planet.

            No. What he really feared were percentages. He could only handle so much pain before he couldn’t process it. Before he would collapse and die, and wouldn’t return for another five hours. He didn’t really fear death either.

            He feared what he did when he returned.

            Antimatter flipped over and smacked to the asphalt. The ground beneath him raced beneath him as he was dragged down the road.

            Throwing out a hand, calculating the angle, and releasing the blast took him longer than he felt it should have. But he was accurate enough to knock Ragnarok from the sky.

***

 

            Ragnarok barely stopped himself from hitting the ground, he halted himself and flipped right side up. Facing Antimatter. His leg felt burned, so he kept himself in the air.

            Antimatter stood and for the first time, Ragnarok realized how much his face was disfigured.

            How is he still standing?

            Antimatter raised his hand.

            Growling, Ragnarok jerked his hands to the side and pulled him forward. Antimatters feet dragged across asphalt. He growled as he got close.

            “I’m going to give you one last chance.” Ragnarok said, “Serve or die.”

            “That’s the problem with reincarnation, bro.” a voice said behind him. Ragnarok turned to see Harkness standing directly behind him. Hands in his pockets of a new looking coat. “Some of us just don’t give a crap. Oh and by the way, the sun is shining, the sky is really strange, and you’re standing on a turtle,”

            Ragnarok blinked. “What?” he glanced down to see what he meant.

 

***

 

            As Ragnarok looked down, distracted by Harkness’ weak but effective emotion manipulation, Antimatter Immediately jerked his head, shot gunning a blast at Ragnarok. Before his vision had time to adjust to the light, Antimatters hands snapped free of their restraints and he moved to shotgun another blast into Ragnarok’s face.

            Ragnarok grabbed his hand and Antimatter cursed inwardly. He was using too much processing power to calculate moves correctly. He would have to-

            He felt something. Like the uncoiling of a snake in the desert, a strangeness seemed to enter his mind.

            Everything went to hell from there.

              

            Ragnarok grabbed Antimatters arm.

            Then the world vanished.

            Ragnarok blinked a few times. The Notworld came suddenly this time. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He turned around to see her.

            YOU ARE ABOUT TO FAIL, SERVANT.

            Ragnarok’s raised an eyebrow.

            I TOLD YOU TO BREAK HIM. TO BREAK INTO HIS MIND. HIS SOUL. AND NOW YOU PREPARE TO RIP HIM APART.

            Ragnarok said nothing.

            I WILL DO IT MY SELF!

            Ragnarok felt her slam into his mind. he fought for a few moments.

            Then he lost.

            Everything went to hell from there.

 

***

 

            Antimatter struggled against the telepathic assault. He had not seen this coming. Who knew the kid was a telepath?

But even in his condition he was able to tell that there was something different. This power didn’t have the same vibe as Ragnarok’s. But in his current state, he couldn’t decipher why.

            Reality melted.

               NO!

            Opening his memory he loosed everything he knew at once, letting the sheer information of years’ worth of eavesdropping on dozens of conversations at a time run through his mind. Every book he’d read, every equation he knew, even Pi down to eighth million digits.

            He took that information.

            And he shoved it back into the strange thing invading his mind.

 

***

 

              

            Ragnarok screamed as reality melted. Nothing was the same. Everything had sides, no sides allsidedsides bringing painmiseryunderstanding no hope hope nope. It was complex and painful for his mind to endure. He had experienced this three times before, but-

            Something hit him.

            He screamed again. Information. He was pinned between the two sources. Kelek rounded a rocky ridge twisting massing misery3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280348253421170679821480865132823066470938446095505822317253594081284811174502841027019385211055596446229489549303819644288109756659334461284756482337867831652712019091456485669234603486104543266482133936072602491412737245870066063155881748815209209628292540917153643678925903600113305305488204665213841469519415116094330572703657595919530921861173819326117931051185480744623799627495673518857527248 

hey honey how you how was the party I prefer whisky actually mass times the accelerated volume of an object steel iron copper bronze zinc brass tin pewter aluminum duralumin electrum gold nicrosil bendalloy cadmium skybreaker windrunner oaths…

            It went on.

***

 

            Antimatter jerked his hand back, or rather, his wrist. Ragnarok had completely crushed his it in his grip. He would have to revive himself to get it back, but for now the ash covered stump would have to do.

            As he walked backwards, stunned by the mental battle he had just fought. He stumbled back. How long had that been?

            Harkness knelt beside him. ”hey twoface, seen better days?

            Antimatter coughed, ash coming through the hole in his mouth. “How long were we standing there?” he looked around, noticing that they had moved maybe a hundred feet from where they had begun fighting.

            “Seven centuries,” Harkness said immediately. “Or maybe a second, it was hard to tell as soon as he grabbed you everything went silent then you fell over.”

            There was a growl.

            Antimatter forced himself to his feet as Ragnarok did the same. He looked disoriented, as well he should. That much informational backlash should have killed him.

            “What… what did you do?”

            “I’ve fought telepaths before, kid.” Antimatter said. His voice was slurred and his breath escaped from his cheek. It felt cold for some reason.

            Ragnarok blinked. Then shot into the air at… at.

            Antimatter decided that he didn’t care how fast it was

            “Well, that’s all folks.” Harkness said.

Edited May 18, 2016 by WarriorMark16

[Edgedancer he/him]

 

Deathgale used the time in which the Epics fought outside to contact Mary and have her investigate Antimatter and Ragnarok, given that both of them seemed to be powerful and lacking in subtlety, he didn’t expect her to have much trouble. As he waited, Deathgale poured himself another drink and listened to the sound of fighting that was steadily drifting farther away, plenty of explosions but nothing that sounded like a collapsing building or screams of slaughtered kettle.

 

Not long later, Mary had basic information about the two at hand. According to her, tracking down Antimatter’s exact movements and kills down would require a good deal more effort but everything pointed towards him being nomadic, which would fit with his claims of being on a hunt. His powers naturally included the explosions he already displayed and resurrection, which unfortunately was connected to records of extremely violent behavior on his part afterwards. Of course the vixen didn’t pass up the chance to preemptively blame him for the possibility of him demolishing the city. He also seemed to possess some kind of mental enhancements but their exact nature were not something she was entirely certain about right now.

 

The one called Ragnarok on the other hand seemed to be a recruiter, and looking at his track record possibly hitman as well, for an Epic ruling her own city while mostly keeping to herself. His primary means of attack was telekinesis, which was also capable of precisely break down matter as he displayed earlier. Rumors had it that the invulnerability he displayed also originated from the same ability, given that both powers eventually show signs of exhaustion. Another power that wasn’t much more than a rumor was a kind of emotional manipulation, seeing reports of people acting unusual and especially aggressive towards their allies once he got involved.

 

After Mary finished her report, Deathgale took note that he could no longer hear any noises caused by the fight. Swallowing the reminder of his drink, Deathgale dissolved into smoke and went out to search for Antimatter. It wasn’t a hard search, the traces of the fight, while not devastating, were a clear trail. What he found wasn’t a pretty sight but at least Antimatter was still alive. Reforming his body mid-stride, Deathgale stepped up to Antimatter and Harkness. “To your credit, the amount of damage I noticed was within bounds, especially given your abilities,” Deathgale said. “Regrettably I do not see Ragnarok, be it dead or captured. Are you in a condition to report or will you need space set aside for your recovery first?”

Edited May 19, 2016 by Edgedancer

[Aonar he/him]

 

If, perchance, one were to go walking through the Washingtonian wilderness on a particular fall afternoon, they might see something unusual. A man, dressed simply, with pale skin and night-black hair, following a road long disused, carrying with him two weapons. A pistol, make and model obscured by frequent modifications, and a spear, cruelly barbed, and marked with a single word, or perhaps a name; Àri. A closer inspection would reveal that the man is not as old as he first appears; likely naught more than a teen, although his face is lined deeply with pains past and present, far more than befit one so young.

 

Or course, chance had nothing to do with this meeting. Lady Truce stepped from concealment in the trees, careful not to snag her dress on the underbrush. It had been a gift from Accord himself; damage to it would not be taken well. If her prey had noticed her, he showed no sign, continuing to walk at a resolute pace, with his head down.

 

After a few moments of silence save for the quiet crunch of leaves underfoot, Truce rolled her eyes, and spoke in a high, lilting voice, “Stop and say hello to an old friend, why don’t you?”

 

He stopped and turned slowly, raising his frosted green eyes to meet hers. “We are not friends, Cynthia.” With an effort of will that looked almost Herculean, he turned away and resumed walking. “If anything, I would describe our relationship more as that between a parasite and its host. You and your employer might need me, but I do not need you. Goodbye.”

 

“Stop.” He faltered briefly, but continued to walk. Truce’s expression shifted into a frown, and an edge of steel entered her voice. “I am telling you three times, Eternity; I am telling you as Cynthia Holloway, as Lady Truce, and as Accord’s Proxy in this matter: you will stop.”

 

Finally he stopped, his arms and legs seeming almost to freeze in place. “Good. Now-”

 

“Now,” Eternity said, cutting her off, “you will release me from the formal binding, witch, or I will personally escort you to hell.”

 

Despite herself, Truce shivered. She’d seen what he had done to… to Areadbhar. That was a fate far worse than death. “Do your worst,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

 

Suddenly he cried out as if struck, falling to his knees despite her command. Smiling at the sound, she walked around to view him from the front. An angry red welt was forming on his cheek, shaped roughly like a set of scales, resting on the point of a sword. As she watched, the scales shifted, moving further and further out of balance. The man’s muscles began to twitch and spasm, as his face locked into a grimace, and he let out a low moan of pain.

 

“I must admit I am disappointed, Eternity. I expected better from you. Running away over a girl, without even having the stones to put in your resignation with Accord. And failing to stay gone, after a mere three days.”

 

Stuttered, halting laughter was his answer. In between convulsions of pain, he managed to speak. “You and I… we both know… there’s no way in… hell… he would’ve just… taken… my sparking… resignation.”

 

“Be that as it may, your actions were no less foolish. Honestly, did you expect things to turn out any other way?”

 

Eternity was shaking constantly now, jaw locked and unable to speak. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Truce pulled his head up so he was looking her in the eyes. “I forgive you,” she whispered. Instantly, the tremors eased; the scales that marked him returned to balance and faded away.

 

Unsteady on his feet, he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Accord has granted you quite a bit of power, hasn’t he?” She didn’t bother gratifying that with a response.

 

Undeterred, he continued. “You understand what this power does, yes? You know how it corrupts, how it destroys? There’ll be nothing left of you but a burnt out husk by the time he’s done with you, Cynthia. When you see what you’ve become you’ll wish I had thrown you out of time."

Edited May 23, 2016 by Aonar Faileas

[Mckeedee123 he/him]

It took a bit longer to get back to Astoria than Corpsemaster would have liked, what with the broken windshield and all, but he managed. Within two hours' time, he found himself passing the outermost diamond structures in the city, and was greeted by a handful of soldiers. They waved him in after a quick verification of his identity. Corpsemaster's peripatetic tendencies were well known to the border guards, and the howls and moans coming from the back of his truck didn't seem to make them too eager to linger near him. The sentiment was understandable, though unenlightened. Mortals never seemed to get how much more interesting the human body became post-mortem.

 

Corpsemaster didn't have far to drive before reaching his territory. The entrance to The Catacombs was located in the higher portions of Astoria, built underneath an old, pre-Calamity golf course. There weren't any buildings there, so Lucentia had simply created a large, hollow diamond sphere above the only exit to ensure that anyone venturing into the tunnels would be reminded of her authority.

 

Though Corpsemaster ruled most of tunnels that made up The Catacombs, he couldn't claim to have created them. That honor went to Gorgon, an Epic whose wounds spewed out a corrosive acid. Even now, eight years after his work began, Gorgon was still down there somewhere, melting away the stone underneath Astoria in some sort of insane, creative binge. The Catacombs stretched down hundreds of meters now, and even Corpsemaster didn't know where some of the deepest, darkest, ones went. Monsters creeped around down there, Echidna's spawn, and some of those possessed strange, eldritch powers to alter the tunnels' properties. You never really knew what you'd find in The Catacombs, if you explored long enough.

 

But all of that was in the deeper portions of the caverns. The older, shallower sections belonged to Corpsemaster, and he liked to think that his usage of the space was a bit more enlightened. Thanks to Lightwrought and the Financier, Astoria was never short on food and/or random garbage, so he had taken the opportunity to just sort of corral vanillas in there and see what happened. Food, junk, and captives went in, some semblance of civilized society came out. The best part was that it was his civilized society, not to mention that he had an easy supply of corpses,should the need arise. It was a system that worked for him. Every Epic needed someone to rule, after all.

 

Corpsemaster smiled wryly as he reached the structure built above The Catacombs' sole entrance and his corpselings dragged the vanilla out of the truckbed and into the tunnels. No explanations. No threats. The other denizens of the tunnels would fill him in on the rules soon enough. All Corpsemaster had to do was sit back and patrol, and his domain would flourish.

 

Now, time to relax and watch some television.

Edited May 23, 2016 by Mckeedee123

[Citadel16 he/him]

 

 

Antimatter scowled. Then held up his stump.

                “It would be appreciated.” His words slurred. He spat out some of the vile, dry tasting ash. Harkness handed him a bottle. “it will be a few hours before I get back. I'll meet you at the Shining Diamond." Taking the bottle, Antimatter took a long drink through the hole in his cheek.

                When he was done, Antimatter dropped the bottle. Reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand gun. He drew a deep breath and chambered a round. “Harkness?”

                “Yeah?”                                                                                 

                “Dont be stupid and do whatever Deathgale tells you to do until I get back.”

                Then he raised the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

[Edgedancer he/him]

 

Deathgale dissolved parts of himself into smoke, to avoid the bloodspaltters staining his suit. A minor slight compared to the annoyance of Antimatter setting terms, even if they were reasonable enough that they didn’t require punishment.

Deathgale turned to Harkness. He was of course in a much better condition, which meant he could not bring forth an excuse for delaying work until later. Good. Deathgale didn’t belittle Mary’s skill to track down someone’s movement within the city but there had not yet been an opportunity to infect Ragnarok, so there was little she could do if he left the city bounds.

 

“Seeing how you already appear to be familiar with this Ragnarok Epic, I’ll leave you with trying to track him down, while Antimatter is out of commission,” Deathgale said. He pulled out the flask containing Mary’s blood. “I do not however expect you to actually kill him on your own.” With that he flicked a bit of the blood on Harkness clothes. “That will be enough for Bloody Mary to have an eye on you and intervene if you come across Ragnarok. Otherwise we will summon you for the meeting once Antimatter returns.” 

Edited June 9, 2016 by Edgedancer

[Aonar he/him]

They had been walking for hours. Or rather, they would have been, had time been moving with them.

Eternity knew little of their intended destination, other than that it was somewhere to the south. Bringing enough air out of time to communicate was difficult, and it wasn't worth it just for an explanation. Doubly so when said explanation gave Truce an opportunity to gloat.

Slowly, the trees were thinning. Truce motioned for him to stop, before taking a few steps to the edge of the treeline. From what Eternity could see, there appeared to be a river ahead, with a few indistinct shapes that could have been buildings on the far side. ...Oregon, then? Accord is getting bolder.

Instantly, the world filled with sound again. Water flowed somewhere nearby; wind blew softly through the trees.

"What business does Accord have in Oregon?"

"Not just Oregon. Lucentia's domain. Look."

At the river's edge, things were clearer. The Diamond City sprawled on the far side, glittering ethereally under an alien sky. The river itself was dominated by a massive, improbably perched castle, like something out of a storybook. Carved from perfect blue-white ice, it stood guard over only bridge.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You don't need to know."

After a moment, Truce relented. She had never been good at holding her tongue. "For now, we're going to raise a bit of a fuss. Over the bridge and straight to the palace in real time, stopping for nothing and no one save Lucentia herself."

Eternity grunted. While surprising, if Accord wanted to give offence to some of the strongest Epics in the Fractured States, that wasn't his business. Maybe one of them would finally kill the slontze. "Let's go, then."

Truce looked back at him, a little puzzled. "I'm disappointed, Eternity. I was expecting more of a reaction to such a lunatic plan."

"I can't die. While that protection currently extends to you, to my great annoyance, that means Accord is the only one endangered by this venture. His death would be to my benefit. I see no reason not to continue."

She blinked. Only once, but any break in her composure was a victory for Eternity. "That is fair, I suppose." She took a breath and smoothed her dress, turning towards the bridge. "We'd best be going."

As they approached, the massive scale of the bridge and castle became more apparent. It was rare for an elementalist Epic to be able to produce and control that much matter. The only one that immediately came to mind was Lucentia, and most considered her to be a rather singular case.

The guardhouses at the bridge's base were somewhat less impressive; sturdy but ultimately mundane wooden constructions. Several armed persons could already be seen milling around outside.

"The fuss you were looking for?"

"Not exactly."

A few yards closer, and one of the guards finally raise their weapon, obviously judging them to be within shouting distance. "Hold! There is a toll, if you wish to cross!"

Glancing at Truce, Eternity raised an eyebrow. She shook her head subtly.

"Hold! I will shoot if you do not respond!" Do your worst.

The rifle flashed, and the world stopped. A bullet sat in the air about a foot from his chest. He could see the subtle distortion in the air behind it from the spreading shockwave. Center of mass. Professional. 

Reaching out, he touched it lightly. It instantly seemed to become more real, somehow, jumping back into true being as if called to life. It shot forward, thudding into Eternity's ribs. Bright spots swam in his vision as he staggered back. It felt like he'd been hit by a sledgehammer, even though he stayed unmarked as the bullet fell silently to the ground. 

The rifle's crack finally reached his ears. As if nothing was amiss, he and Truce continued to walk.

Another cluster of bullets followed, some aimed at Truce, others at Eternity. To an outside observer, none of them connected. 

They were within a few yards of the bridge before the guards finally gave up and fled. Absently, Eternity rubbed his chest. The pain had faded, but the memory was still sharp. Truce glanced sideways, curious, but, for once, held her tongue. 

"I imagine whatever Epic created this place is on their way. Solely human guards would be too easy."

They'd better be. Eternity stayed silent, simply reaching up to adjust the spear slung across his back.

[Blackhoof]

Winterspell was quietly sitting, sipping his tea when the alarm bell rang throughout his castle. Sigh

Lightwrought glanced out the window, waving away the servant that had been giving her a foot massage. "Hmm.... Looks like a few would-be intruders at the north end of the bridge. They must be Epics, or the guards would have dealt with them by now."

Winterspell rolled his eyes. "More Epic intruders? They better not be sent by our friend up north. Surely he would not be so stupid as to have his Epics walk onto my bridge so openly." The 'friend' he referred to was, of course, Dragoon.

Lightwrought chuckled. "Well, I'm sure you will make short work of them, my dear." Winterspell frowned and raised a radio to his face.
"Get Kinesis into position to bombard these two intruders. He is too useful to be idle, legs or no legs. I also want a read on their powers from Tag immediately."

With that, he walked into the wall, ice parting and reforming perfectly around him, and moved himself to the end of the bridge, remaining entirely encased and hidden within the ice of his fortress. When he reached the end of the bridge, he raised himself upwards, high than ground level, standing on a pillar of ice. "Greetings," He began, as the two Epics looked up at him. "What brings you to my domain?"

[Voidus]

Bioterror stalked his quarters, his new tail lashing behind him as he paced back and forth.

"Bloody teleporters." He growled. "Breaking my eye contact, making me need to actually fight seriously."

But that wasn't even the worst thing, the worst thing was that the shadowy one had managed two things that Bioterror simply did not allow. To actually have the nerve to escape when Bioterror had decided to kill the Epic, and taking along all the other with him! But worst of all was that he had trapped Bioterror, rendered one of the strongest of Epics powerless until he'd escaped from that prison of darkness.

The wall creaked as he spun around, tail smashing into it at high speeds.

"Not enough, it's still not enough."

His pupils thinned into reptilian slits, a cold, hungry gaze.

Bioterror was hungry again. He didn't feel true hunger, not since his transformation. But it was similar to the sensation he remembered from years ago, a yearning for more, the need to fill his body. But now he doubted that some cold pizza would quite do the trick.

His hand was already on the door, ready to leave and begin hunting. But then he shook his head, resuming his prowling again.

"New city, new ruler, need to play nice." He reminded himself.

But oh how that chafed, to be told what to do, to know that he had to deny his own pleasure for the sake of someone else.

I need a distraction.

But all he wanted was to chase down that bloody Epic and snap his neck like a twig.

Perhaps there was another way to get stronger, a way he dimly remembered from some of his early, hazy memories of being an Epic...

Bioterror took a deep breath, closing his eyes and recalling it.

Remember. Remember the feeling, the way you directed the power, directing that incredible destructive energy inwards, focus it..

Muscles relaxed, shoulders drooped, his tail ceased its thrashing.

Now, focus on all that unnecessary energy and eliminate it.

Colour vision? Pointless, distracting.

He opened his eyes slowly to a world dyed in black and white.

Digestive system? Don't need that anyway, redundant.

An odd sense of nausea arose as he shut down all metabolism is his stomach and intestinal tract.

Immune system? Also redundant, healing takes care of that anyway.

His blood grew hot as various cells grew quiet.

Sense of touch? Heat, cold both unnecessary right now, pain would only be a distraction, I need only my balance.

His body grew numb as his nerve endings slowly silenced.

In this dull, grey world, Bioterror took all that wasted energy... and chanelled it.

Active vision? Ramp it up to 11, force all that information through. Increase the energy consumption of the optic nerve, channel more blood to the primary visual cortex, process everything, see everything.

His eyes darted across the room, taking in every flaw in the woodwork, pupils expanding and contracting to fast to follow as his focus shifted from one spot to the next, blood vessels expanded, giving him an even more deranged look.

Next, plan your action, increase flow to the frontal lobe, focus it into the motor cortex.

The world began to slow as his eyes continued to move, his mind racing to make sense of all the visual information.

It comes easier now, more focus means more control, now... continue to adjust the brain activity and then pour all the excess into muscle fibres, force all the energy into them, force them to contract so fast they tear, create such explosive acceleration that not even a teleporter could react.

An inconceivably fast blur of flesh and then, suddenly, the gentle dripping sound of blood falling to the floor.

Colour returned to the world, everything went back to it's normal speed and Bioterrors eyes regained their ordinary motion. And an incredible burst of pain was felt through his entire body, but most noticeably in his arm.

Blood was flying back up into the wounds as his healing began to take effect but even so it was not an instantaneous process and his arm had been...

"Destroyed huh? Guess I'll need to work out how to make it stronger first."

His hand hung limply, held onto his wrist by only a few strands of muscle, his fingers were in even worse shape, several bones had been shattered completely and the shards were still making their way back from across the room.

It wasn't just his arm though, more blood fell from his eyes as ruptured vessels spilled their contents, the muscles throughout his body screamed in agony as they reknit themselves after having been forced to tear themselves into shreds, his brain felt like the mother of all migraines was visiting as it scrambled to make sense of the sudden shift in sensory information again combined with the rapidly changing blood pressure.

Forcibly calming his heart rate, he waited for his flesh to finish reverting to its previous state before flexing his hands before him.

"Not enough still. But better." He grunted, before closing his eyes again.

Bioterrors powers were not gentle, even when he used them on himself, even with the utmost concentration and focus it was far too violent. But it was a violent world, and if his body was going to be torn into pieces it was going to be by his own doing, not that of another Epic.

[Citadel16 he/him]

Harkness clapped once. “Fantastic, I’m gonna go look for the moron that could destroy this entire city block in a new York minute, you run ahead and order some Enchiladas at this Crystal Duck restaurant. Sounds like a plan.” Then without a second to answer, Harkness reached down and picked up Antimatters pistol from his body-which was slowly decaying into that nasty tasting ash- and then shot himself in the head.

                He felt a rush of energy. Energy that had once made him sick every time he felt it. Now he felt excited every time he used it. It was a fast and sudden thing, like blinking, but when he opened his eyes, he was in a room looking out at a street containing two quickly decaying corpses and Mr. Death-Genie.

                Smiling, Harkness stuck the weapon into his jacket pocket and walked out the room with merry whistle.

 

Ragnarok shivered against a tree.

                Something was wrong. But that much was obvious. But he couldn’t tell what! There was too much. He couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He saw floating words in the air, meaningless symbols that were etched into the ground. Shadows of figures that shouldn’t be there. Watching him at the corners of his vision. He couldn’t blink.

                Where was he? Outside of Astoria he knew. But where else? He had flown quickly, trying to resist the pain in his head. He had landed and that’s when the figures had begun to run from his vision.

                 Blinking brought them closer. Their whispering became louder. Words he couldn’t understand but somehow he recognized.

                He just didn’t know what was happening. He was always in control. There was always something he could do.

But not anymore. He had tried to grab them with his TK but they remained elusive to his power.

                Ahead of him they were moving, gathering behind trees and bushes whispering. They gathered into one place and began approaching him. He scrambled back against the tree as they merged into one figure. She had a slender build and long brown hair. But it was her eyes, bright blue eyes that calmed him as she approached.

                “It’s okay,” she said. “You can rest now,”

                And with that Ragnarok slumped against the hard surface of the tree and fell asleep.

                The nightmares greeted him.

[Voidus]

The Adventurer released Lockvaults arm as the two of them returned to their underground base. After the fight that morning they had explored the rest of the city searching for other quests or some more players to try and challenge that boss again.

In the end the two had returned here with little to show for it other than a slightly better understanding of the cities layout.

"But then again there's no strategy guide so we've kind of got to just keep forcing our way through til we find the critical path."  The Adventurer commented lazily as he threw himself into a couch.

He pulled a fork out of one of his pockets, pilfered during one of the many house raids he'd performed that day and used it to dig into a plate of spaghetti that lay nearby.

"Unless maybe there's a guild or something nearby. Might be worth looking into later." He mumbled through a mouth of food.

[ShadowLord_Lith he/him]

Lockvault glanced at the adventurer warily, wishing he understood more than every third word out of the kids mouth. 'Let's see,' he thought, 'guild...' Nothing that he could remember told him anything about guilds. " Sure," he said cautiously, " though maybe we should check out the local royalty. Maybe they built in a political factor." Lockvault watched him, measuring his response.

[Blackhoof]

Part 1 of a collab between Aonar Faileas and me

 

They had only taken a few steps onto the bridge when its owner appeared. Rising up through the bridge's surface like a swimmer from water, he was obviously the Epic that had constructed it.

"What is your business in my domain?"

Truce stopped, and Eternity fell into line just behind and to the left. He stayed silent. Diplomacy wasn't his job.

Truce put on a mask of a pleasant smile, and spoke lightly, although her eyes stayed as cold as ever. "We have none. Yours is simply the most convenient passage into Lucentia's. Do you happen to know if the Queen is in?"

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

Tag's voice barked in Winterspell's ear as he listened to their question. "Be careful of the guy, boss, he has temporal manipulation. He's a powerful one, might be able to trap you outside of time, or something. Can't be harmed, either, looks like he can stop time before being hurt. As for the broad, she's just a vanilla."

The Ice King smiled. An interesting pair, with the vanilla doing the talking. Although some epics preferred it that way. Perhaps this man, with his time manipulation, could serve him in removing the High Epics of Astoria..... yes.... this could work nicely.

He finally replied to her question. "Well, I am sorry to say that she is unavailable at the moment. But she should only be a few days away. Perhaps you would be interested in staying at my keep until she returns? I promise that I treat Epic and their retinues, even those that don't serve me, with the greatest hospitality."

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

 

Truce's smile became slightly more brittle. Her left hand twitched in a vague shooing motion. Eternity figured that was his cue.
The world went silent. Eternity walked up to the statue that was their greeter. Tall and strong in the way powerful Epics tended to be, he would have cut an imposing figure.

Closer now, he could see the earpiece and radio the Epic wore. Wired. None of that, now. He plucked it from the Epic's ear, throwing it off the side of the bridge. Best see who he was talking to.

It wasn't a short walk to the castle, and from there, navigating it's maze of halls to the battlements was no simple task. Eternity, however, had nothing but time.

On the battlements, two persons stuck out immediately, although several armed guards were also in attendance. One looked important enough to be a minor Epic, standing at the edge with a radio to his ear. The speaker.

He removed that radio as well. Better safe than sorry. The Epic would have a nasty shock once time restarted; although Eternity's powers exactly didn't see eye to eye with physics, things he moved still tended to leave a bit of a vacuum behind. It would probably be several days before he regained his hearing, at least.

The second point of interest was the cripple. He was a non-sequitur among the castle's personnel, confined to a wheelchair and still heavily bandaged from whatever incident had put him there. An Epic, presumably, important enough to be summoned to a meeting of Highs, even damaged as he was. Something destructive then, or perhaps defensive. Nothing to worry about though, more like than not. Disrupting communications would make their point well enough.

After a another short sweep of the battlements, Eternity leapt back to the bridge's surface. Pain flared in his legs from the many-stories fall, his vision fading momentarily before snapping back into place. A rictus grin formed on his face. It was strange. Although nothing could harm him here, his body had always seemed convinced otherwise.

Back at Truce's side, he brought her and a large chunk of atmosphere out of time to brief her on what he had found and done. She nodded once, sharply, before turning back towards the Epic.

A sharp crack sounded; the ice-Epic flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly, some fluid too pale to be blood leaking from his ear. Not wholly invulnerable, then.

Truce spoke as his expression hardened. "Does 'hospitality' include surveillance by destructive Epics and armed gunmen? While the efficacy of the gesture is moot, it does not speak well to your intentions. I believe we would rather find whomever is ruling in Lucentia's stead. Perhaps they will be able to show more decorum."

[Blackhoof]

Part 2 of a collab between Aonar Faileas and me

 

Winterspell flinched as a sharp crack filled his ear. His earpiece was gone. His burst eardrum turned to ice and melted as a new, healed one appeared, leaking water down the side of his face. He was about to demand an explanation when the Epic's servant began talking. "Does 'hospitality' include surveillance by destructive Epics and armed gunmen? While the efficacy of the gesture is moot, it does not speak well to your intentions. I believe we would rather find whomever is ruling in Lucentia's stead. Perhaps they will be able to show more decorum."

His expression darkened as the rude cur insulted him. They march up to HIS bridge, intimidate HIS guards, and respond to his civility by assaulting him and... and.... how did they know about the other Epics?

Winterspell realized in a flash that if this... temporal Epic had frozen time to remove his earpiece, then he could have done anything. Traipsed around the castle. Killed or captured his Epics. Fear replaced anger, but tempering the fear was... greed.

Winterspell forced an icy smile. "Of course. Deathgale is ruling this city in Lucentia's stead. You will find him in the largest diamond building in the city center, no doubt you will know it when you see it. You may cross my bridge... toll-free, for my esteemed guests." With a thought, he moved himself off the bridge until he stood on a column of roiling water above the river. The pair began crossing, and he smiled evilly. With a gesture, the ground beneath the Epic and his servant collapsed and refroze, and in an eye-blink both were encased to the shoulders in ice. Not too cold, or very dangerous, of course.

He swooped towards them, towering above the struggling pair. "Lets discuss... the terms of your surrender, shall we?"

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

The Epic's expression darkened further, before slipping into a false smile. Eternity had no doubt almost every word was a lie, but Truce seemed satisfied, so they resumed crossing.

A moment later, they were buried up to the chest in ice.

Truce shrieked at the sudden cold. Eternity sighed. Diplomacy may not be my job, but maybe it should be.

The Epic moved closer. "Let's discuss the terms of --" Time stopped.

"My turn." Eternity grunted, pulling one arm free of the ice, then the other. With an effort of will, he heaved himself up through the ice.

He turned to face the ice-Epic. Almost as an afterthought, Eternity reached down and pulled Truce up by the hair. Her face contorted with pain. "Peon! How dare you-" Eternity caught the hand that was about to slap him, calmy twisting it into a lock. "Accord's geas has no power here, Cynthia. Don't forget that."

After a moment, he released her, turning his attention back to the Epic. Now, what would be appropriate? He looked at his surroundings, suddenly feeling very slow. Of course.

Eternity reached down, touching the surface of the bridge. His fingers sank down into the ice. He stayed that way for what would have been several minutes, concentrating on what he wanted. A portion of the ice solidified under his hand. He pulled it free, revealing a large knife, simple but razor sharp. That should do nicely.

He positioned himself just behind the Epic, and pulled him out of time. "-your surrender, shall we?"

Eternity pressed the knife against his throat. "We shall not. That was a nice trick. I can do better." He dug the knife in a little more, hard enough to cause pain. "Now, most gracious host, I belive introductions are in order."

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

No sooner had he begun gloating over his victory, than he felt a knife press against his throat. The Epic was gone, and the woman was freed from his ice, two holes where they had once both been trapped. His eyes widened in shock. 

"We shall not. That was a nice trick. I can do better." The Epic dug the knife in a little more, and while it wouldn't penetrate his skin, it hurt slightly. "Now, most gracious host, I belive introductions are in order."

Winterspell swallowed, quivering in rage and humiliation. "My name..." He spat. "Is Winterspell, king of Icesteel Keep, and Lord of Columbia River. Who may you be?"

..........................
 

Eternity almost laughed aloud. Pretentious much? "I go by Eternity. I hope the reasons are obvious.

"She," he said, pointing to Truce, "is known as Lady Truce. She is Accord's emissary, under his aegis, and by unfortunate extension, mine."

Eternity raised an eyebrow at Truce, wordlessly asking if she had anything to add. She shook her head slightly before adapting to the situation in her usual fashion. A short, sharp spike of metal -probably a hairpin, Eternity thought- appeared in her hand from nowhere in particular, while she stalked towards Winterspell.

"Now that you are being less... obdurate," she practically purred, running the point of the pin along his jaw, "perhaps you will answer some questions."

She stepped away, absently spinning the pin through her fingers as she started to circle the Epic. "Three questions and three true answers, and you will leave here unmolested." A hint of laughter touched her voice as she continued. "In all honesty, your life is probably only worth two, but I've always been one for tradition." She was clearly enjoying herself.

"First. Why are you so eager to detain those who have business with your liege?"

 

[ShadowLord_Lith he/him]

Collab post between ShadowLord_Lith and Voidus

“Political factor?” The Adventurer asked curiously, not many MMOs did stuff like that, maybe some loose faction loyalty stuff but political elements were usually more in strategy games.

 

“Maybe that Metal guy would know, he seems like he’s played around in this town for a while.”

The Adventurer wasn’t quite sure what it was but something about that player had just seemed intimidating, like a veteran who’d been through every raid, was equipped with nothing but Epic level loot and hit the level cap with so many characters that he could likely do it in his sleep.

“I usually prefer solo or small parties but then I don’t usually have this many difficulties, the conversation system in this is intense, programmers must have gone all out with the AI too.”

---------------------------------------

“Yeah, I heard they made it as life-like as possible. That’s why everything is so difficult, and why everyone tries to run away from us. They notice weird things happening and get out of there fast.”

 

There, he thought, maybe that’ll help keep him out of trouble. He begged the kid, silently, not to suggest they join one of the factions he had mentioned, that would be all he needed. Especially if it was her faction. He shuddered, pushing the thought aside.

 

“So, what do we do next? Are we checking out the factions or do you have some minor objectives in mind?”

[Citadel16 he/him]

Ragnarok woke and for the first time in a very long time he didn’t have a headache. The sensation was odd. He had lived with headaches since he was small. They had become like the noise made on the streets of a busy city, annoying and persistent and now it was as if the entire city had been emptied overnight while he slept, leaving him alone in his head.

                He arched his neck, trying to stretch the muscles in his neck. They were sore.

                “Well it’s good to see that you’re up and about.” A voice said behind him. “I was getting bored.”

                He spun and seized the person with his TK… or tried to. The person didn’t even flinch when he grabbed her. In fact, she was sitting in a camp chair with a book out and was reading. A look of disinterest across her face. She turned a page.

                He took a step back. What- no that wasn’t possible. He tried to grab her again. He felt the powers respond. He knew that they were working, but they didn’t seem to affect her.

                He stood there, arm outstretched and feeling slightly panicked. She must be some sort of canceler. How else did she withstand his Telekinetic pulls?

                “If you’re done trying to force choke me I think you have somewhere to be,” she said, turning a page. For some bizarre reason the thought occurred to him that she couldn’t possibly have read that entire page that quickly.

                “What- who are you?” he said. Raising some rocks off the ground. If he couldn’t hurt her with his TK directly maybe some well-placed rocks would-

                She sighed and closed her book. “Would you put those down, I’m fairly certain you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried landing a mountain on top of my head.”

                “I could try,” Ragnarok said.

                “Mn-hmn,” She said, “I’m sure you could. But let’s try not to waste this miraculous gift from heaven you have on smashing my face in, alright?”

                They waited in silence for a few moments, then Ragnarok released his TK allowing the heavy stones to fall to the ground. If anything, she had certainly made him curious

                “Who are you?” he demanded.

                “Just call me Lizzy.” She began walking towards him. Ragnarok frowned. There was something wrong with the way she walked. He couldn’t put a finger on it just yet though.

                “Lizzy.” He said. “That’s not much of a name for an epic.”

                “You’ll find that very little about me matches the tropes you see in other epics.” She said. She walked passed him.  He followed her with his gaze.

                It was then that Ragnarok finally realized something.

                “You’re not real are you?”

                She spun on him. “What do you mean I’m not real? I’m standing right in front of you.”

                “You’re a hallucination aren’t you? I went crazy after the battle. And you are the aftermath of what happened.”

                “I- that’s preposterous.”

                Calamity. She was a terrible liar.                

Wait. What?

                “Yeah? Then explain to me why when you walk you don’t rustle the twigs and leaves on the ground or leave tracks in the dirt.” It was hard to pay attention to actually. His mind seemed to slide of certain details about her, such as the way she walked quietly. It was like trying to remember an elusive memory, only at the same time, not like that at all.

                “So what?” he said. His chest hurt from his fight with the other epics. He would likely need to stitch those cuts closed. “Can you read my mind? Or is it like that one guy in that book with all the smart illusions and then that other guy who shoots people using the insane guy’s arms?”

                “WH-what?” she said.

                “Or am I just schizophrenic?”

                Lizzy looked at him for a while. “Sparks,” she finally said. “You’re certainly mad, but I don’t think it’s in the way you think you are.”

                “A likely story,” He thought about it for a moment. How would Stormeggeddon react to her hitman going crazy?

                That line of thought raised another question.

                Why hadn’t Stormeggeddon contacted him? Usually after a failed catch of the day, she would contact him within minutes, or sometimes during, the fight with the other epics. And now she had been silent for a good… ten minutes?

                Hey Stormeggeddon, you worthless piece of slime, you in here?! he thought. Nothing. Something like that should’ve gotten him a reprimand instantaneously.

                Hmn… looks like I’m out of a job. Good. He had never like working for that Witch. Even when he had no idea about her mind control abilities.

                There was a breeze, and Ragnarok realized that he didn’t have most of a shirt on.

                “Well, since I guess were stuck together, I should probably take you with me to get supplies.” Ragnarok said to Lizzy.

                “What?” she said, “No, we need to go back to Astoria to—“

                “Okay then. Its decided,” Ragnarok glided up into the air. “Race you there.”

                “Yet another ridiculous--,”

                Ragnarok sped off.

 

                Most epics saw shooting weapons as underneath them.

                It was a darn unfortunate fact. Guns were fun to shoot, and they looked cool. Yup. Never discount the way an assault rifle over your back makes the vanillas quiver.

                Harkness stood on a rooftop fingering the trigger of his Magistrate .60 caliber rifle. The rifle was a special project of his, decked out with Gravotonics, electron compression in the magazine, suppression, long range scope—which had its own library of perks--, remote firing, motion detection, and the added bonus of just looking plain LEGIT. It was a favored weapon in his life, something he’d been using ever since he became an epic.

                And he had its sights set on Ice steel keep.

                Time to see if patience yields results. He thought.

Edited November 3, 2016 by WarriorMark16
added the second part.

[Edgedancer he/him]

In theory, all problems were currently under control. Deathgale had send those two oddities after Ragnarok, the shadow Epic had been fought off, as had the Destructors and while it has been sighted, the Tidebreaker hadn’t made any moves to attack them yet. However, the fact that so many major disturbances had happened in such a short time was worrisome on its own accord. The easiest explanation was that information about the queen’s absence had been leaked somehow.

 

It could have been simple bad luck but either way, it had reached a point where he was no longer comfortable just sitting down and dealing with every single thing as it revealed itself. That meant he would have to prepare. However, he’d loathe to announce that worry with a large show of force, especially if there wasn’t an information leak in the first place.

After pulling in some information from Mary, Deathgale settled on a small team to look into things. First off, he would have to meet with Bioterror. He could dress it as a chance for him to prove that it was Brightdeath that ruined his performance last time.

To cut out the time of waiting after a summon, Deathgale used his smoke form to fly towards the other Epic’s new residence. He moved through the spaces between the doors and the walls to pull into the opening hall. The smoke swirled back together into his physical shape, while separating the smoke from his cigarette from his body. Once he was in his human body again he waved for a servant to lead him to a suitable room and fetch Bioterror.

[Voidus]

A gentle knock sounded at a door, after receiving no response there was a somewhat more insistent knock and a question.

The rooms occupant was unable to hear either knock or question however, his ears having been separated from the rest of his body when he tried to headbutt a steel column.

Once more the blood , flesh and bone fragments that had been scattered around the room flew back, reintegrating back into Bioterrors body. Cricking his neck to one side he waited for the delicate bones in his inner ear to finish reforming correctly.

His eyes had just returned to their usual reptilian appearance, albeit still somewhat bloodshot, in time to see the door opening slightly, one of the servants timidly looking around as he entered.

Bioterror leapt accross the room in an instant, pinning the servant to the wall and growling in his face.

"I said, NO DISTRACTIONS."

The servant grimaced in pain and fear, lowering his head and apologizing profusely, his ribs had just started creaking when he managed to stammer out the word "Visitor" and Bioterror dropped him.

"Knock next time." He growled before prowling out into the corridor to see who had come, it had to be one of Astoria's leaders, no other Epics would bother coming to greet him, and sparkles would have just teleported into his face if their previous encounter was anything to go by.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The somewhat confused servant sat in a heap on the floor for a few minutes, feeling tenderly for what seemed to be several broken ribs. Still, by most Epic standards it was a fairly mild rebuke, his limbs were still in tact at least, as was the rest of the city block they were standing on.

He gingerly brought himself to his feet, coughing painfully as he did so. Leaning heavily on the wall he pulled himself in the direction of the kitchen, a few broken ribs would not pass as an excuse for failing to serve drinks.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bioterror walked into the room where a man stood waiting for him, the well dressed one from yesterday who sent them to the shadow tower. Deathgale as he'd later learned, though he still didn't know the extent of his abilities.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Bioterror said, forcing his annoyance at the interruption down and attempting to adopt a business like tone that seemed like it would appease Dethgale.

He extended a hand in greeting, morphing the clawed fingertips back into something more normal so that it could be comfortably grasped.

"What brings you here today?"

[Aonar he/him]

Part three of a collab between Blackhoof and I. 

The woman, apparently the representative of some Epic named Accord, gloated in a disgusting and unseemly manner. Winterspell felt his rage grow as she laughed at him. A mere human, laughing at him! But his rage cooled as he considered the strange Epic behind him. His powers.... they were unlike any Winterspell had ever seen. What could this Eternity even do? Any move Winterspell could make, Eternity could escape, or freeze time. It was too risky, when he didn't even know what Eternity was capable of. He needed to play along, give them what they wanted... and find out how to get revenge later, if possible.

If they wouldn't serve him, they were his enemies.

"First. Why are you so eager to detain those who have business with your liege?" He glanced to the side, and noticed for the first time that no-one had emerged from the Keep, as they should have done immediately. And the word, it was strangely silent. What was... oh. He noticed the water beneath him, and it was completely motionless. A bird hung in the sky, an immobile speck. The world was frozen in time.

Winterspell smiled, fighting down his sudden panic. He needed to get back inside time immediately, lest he be trapped here. "I'd be more than happy to answer your questions, I'll cooperate fully. Please, just un-freeze time and step away and we can discuss this in a civilised manner."

---

Truce shook her head disdainfully. "You are no fun." She sighed. "Eternity, please show Winterspell the full extent of our hospitality. Release him."

Eternity inclined his head, in acquiescence, and mentally banished Truce back into the regular flow of time. He kept his knife where it was, leaning a little closer to the ice Epic. "If you wish to survive this with your mind intact, you will listen, and listen well.

"In a few moments, I am going to stab you through the heart. It will hurt. Quite possibly more than anything you have ever experienced. After you are done screaming, you will tell Truce everything she wishes to know.

"Once she is satisfied, we will help you with your coup." Winterspell stiffened, clearly surprised. "High Epics are rather predictable. If you weren't planning one before--which I doubt--you are now.

"Truce will have conditions. I, however, want only one thing in exchange."

Without clarifying, Eternity released Winterspell, kicking him in the back and sending him stumbling forwards. He froze in place; an impossible statue just about to fall. Eternity stepped around him, carefully placing the point of his knife just beneath Winterspell's sternum, angled upwards.

Time restarted. Winterspell's momentum drove the knife up through his lungs and heart. Blood spurted over Eternity's fingers, turning into water even as it flowed. Time stopped.

Winterspell slid to the ground, gasping with pain. The ice knife was buried to the hilt in his chest; the edges of the wound had turned to ice themselves, as if it were some spreading infection. 

Truce, animate again and none the wiser, grinned widely. "Oops. I forgot that Eternity is not much one for hospitality. Let us try again, shall we?"

---

Winterspell gasped as the knife penetrated his chest. While the injury couldn't kill him, it sure hurt.

"Oops. I forgot that Eternity is not much one for hospitality. Let us try again, shall we?"

His flesh reformed as he groaned through gritted teeth, expecting the knife to pop out as his body reformed. But it didn't. He glanced down in confusion, pain throbbing through him, and saw that while his wound was icy, it wasn't reforming as it normally would. Either something was wrong with his powers, or his bodily functions didn't work as normal in this out-of-time place. He shivered, and not just from the pain.

"Very well, I will answer your questions. My... attempts to detain you were simply a response to how powerful my Epic told me Eternity was. I am planning a coup, and I thought that such a powerful Epic would be a vital part of my efforts, capable of disabling or trapping the very powerful High Epics that rule over me. What are your other questions?"

---

Shunting Winterspell back into the regular flow of time, Eternity turned to Truce. “Thoughts?”

“Nothing I didn’t already suspect. Two more questions to get a general sense of his capabilities, perhaps negotiate a deal, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Fine.”

She waited a moment for Winterspell to animate again, and spoke. “Given that you are already planning a coup, the next two questions are simple. What exactly are you up against? Accord has some information on the Epics that rule here, but it would be good to know which support Lucentia, and which will turn, as well as their exact power. Likewise, what are your capabilities, and how do you plan to overcome the likes of Lucentia and the Metal?”

---

Winterspell scowled. "I have a plan that is coming together. The Metal can be distracted and blinded, and Lucentia is currently out of town. By the time she gets back, this town and all its Epics will have sworn loyalty to me."

He gave a brief rundown of the main Epics that governed Astoria and enforced its laws in Lucentia's absence. Over the years, he had gathered detailed information about their powers, capabilities, and personalities. He provided enough information to satisfy them, but withheld the best tidbits- and any speculations he had about their weaknesses- to give himself an edge.

"Well," He finished, "does that satisfy your curiosity? Can we help each other? I believe your powers of time manipulation can be very useful for dealing with foes such as the Metal, so he cannot interfere when I capture or kill the other Epics. Shall we form an alliance?"

---

My powers are something of a parlor trick compared to the Metal's, but I suppose a distraction could be possible. Temporarily. Despite his observations, Eternity remained silent. Winterspell didn't need to know what he couldn't do. 

"Perhaps." Truce sounded pensive, as if she hadn't realized the magnitude of what was arrayed against them before. "We may even be able to help with more elements of the plan than just combat. Now is not the time to hash out the details of an alliance, but if you give us a time, we will return, to draft a formal arrangement. We will agree on exact terms then." 

Truce looked to Eternity, pins she had brandished as weapons disappearing somehow into the sleeves of her dress. "For us, it is time we were going. We still have others to meet, if we wish to get a complete picture of the events here. I would appreciate it, Winterspell, if when we return to normal time, you are quick to call off your guards and allow us passage. While they will not achieve much, the noise is bothersome."

---

Winterspell smiled. He had secured the fractious, but useful, alliance of at least one powerful Epic in his plans. But more happily, he would be pleased to be returned to normal time, and leave this unsettling and terrifying realm of silence and stillness.

"Of course," he replied. "They will be ordered to stand down instantly. I have nothing to gain from irritating valuable new allies, after all." He bowed, "I hope we can come to an accommodation."

---

"Thank you. That is our hope, as well. Eternity?" 

A thought, and Truce froze, reentering normal time. Eternity took a step closer to Winterspell, looking the man in the eye. "Remember what I said."

He stepped back, and the river below began to flow again. Muffled shouts could be heard from the fortress in the distance. Winterspell's wound closed, ice cracking.

"Well then, we'd best be off. We'll be back sometime around sunset, if that is agreeable. Our entrance of course will be subtler the next time around." 

With that, she began walking to the fortress's gate, allowing Eternity to fall in behind.

---

Winterspell winced as his wound healed, pain ebbing away as his body resumed its normal, immortal functions. It felt good to be back in real time.

His soldiers were still aiming at the guests, but they waited for his command, completely unaware of what had just occurred. "Men," he called, "Stand down. These Epics are our guests and our allies. And open the gates!"

With that, he flew into the air on a tentacle of water and returned to his fortress, while the gates creaked open to allow passage to Eternity and Truce.

Lightwrought looked at him strangely as he landed in through the window. "You weren't gone for very long. And you are letting them through, despite their rudeness? Without extracting a toll? What happened?"

Winterspell grimaced. "Lets just say that they are powerful Epics indeed, but I did extract a toll. They will help me in my plan of domination. At least while I figure out a way to destroy them...."

Edited April 22, 2017 by Aonar Faileas
Changed colouring to be consistent.