What Happened in Salem

[18th Shard he/him]

   

Paradox strode into the town bar, a look of complete calm on his face. He couldn't drink alcohol, of course; it never made it to his mouth, since intoxication was an 'adverse effect' according to his time warping. One of the few things he missed from mortality. He walked to the bar, asking for a glass of water. Taking a drink, he watched the occupants scurry around, fear writ on their faces. There were no fights - from what he'd seen walking into town, fights were only allowed in the arena. Stupid rules of Soulcaster, who Paradox had yet to see. He had watched a match between a fool and Showstopper, who had seemed an interesting match. No real match for him, but interesting. If she froze his time warping, he would hold her, teleport to a volcano, and drop her in. Once she'd died, he would revert to his usual invulnerability. Still, she was one to watch. Paradox sat in a shadowed alcove, humming a repetitive tune, and began to suck on the Everlasting Gobstobbers he'd picked up. Fortunately, his warp prevented them from ever really dissolving; in his hands, they truly were Everlasting. Or at least in his mouth. Paradox mused upon the nature of this town and why he was here. While infinity seemed enjoyable, one never really lived until one had almost died. Conclusions held the most meaning; endings gave the preface power. Paradox remembered those days, his days of mortality. Days of living in the moment, because focusing on the end was too depressing, too unsure, too ... final. Now, Paradox could work with focus, work on his grand finale, work until it was done, until he knew what it was. And yet, there was no meaning in it, not any more. In gaining true life, he had lost the meaning of living. And that was why he was here. To regain what he had lost. To be mortal at heart, yet immortal of purpose. He was in Salem to make infinity human. And that meant getting in fights. Salem was a place of mortality, full of life and humanity. In the arenas, the best and worst of humanity shone. Maybe there, Paradox could find his own humanity.

 

Redshirt watched the newcomer with apprehension. When the Epic had retreated from the general room, the chatter continued as usual. The Epics who were in the bar were the failures. The rejects. Oh, there were those who hadn't been tested yet, those who flirted with danger but hadn't yet fought in the arena. But when they won, they left. They became better than this. It was the failures, the rejects, the losers, who came back here. And Redshirt was the loser of losers, the biggest failure of all. He had the magnanimous ability of attracting any injury, any pain around him. He healed from it,of course, or else he'd have died hundreds of times already, but that just meant he got to feel the pain of dying over and over again. His powers were just plain awful in the arena - who cared if you could beat your enemy if you had to beat them without causing any damage at all? And he couldn't shoot or fight to save his life, literally, so he was hopeless even in altered power states. He sighed, depression smothering any drive to even do something productive. The only attackers and fights he was put in these days were trainings to show the newbies the ropes, to keep them fighting until they figured out the arena, or sometimes as a handicap for one team. Redshirt kept drinking, dejectedly watching in silence until Doubletake decided to take out his anger on one of the vanillas in the corner. The vanilla had narrowly beaten Doubletake yesterday with a random shot to the chest. Doubletake was a mental illusionist with a very limited power set: the first time you saw him in any one place, he could make it so you didn't notice him; when you looked back, he was painfully obvious. He could also make any one he saw do a complete 180 turn, but it didn't affect any object near them. Sitting with Switch, who looked bored with his antics, Doubletake kept flipping the vanilla around, making him spill his drink,though the vanilla ignored it, until the Epic was finally angry and drunk enough to swagger over.
"You think just cause you can get a lucky shot in, that makes you important? Next time you fight, I'm gonna turn you around right when you need it. And you're going lose and die."
The vanilla looked up with careless disdain. "Soulcaster's not enough of an idiot to let you use your powers on someone in the arena. You are just a stupid, drunk man who is too idiotic to admit that inside you are hopeless, and in the arena, you're worse than useless. Go home before you hurt yourself doing anything you'll regret, like maybe thinking."
Doubletake threw the punch. Redshirt winced even before he felt the fist landing. Doubletake looked down in confusion as the vanilla didn't react to the punch, and began to rain blows in his stomach, head, face. The vanilla didn't react. He just pointed at Redshirt. "Idiot. Redshirt's still in the room."
Redshirt felt his face bruise, almost losing consciousness before his healing kicked in, pins and needles pricking until he was whole once more.Doubletake growled, apparently debating which person to get rid of so he could continue the fight effectively. Deciding on the vanilla, he grabbed the scruff of the vanilla's shirt and tried to drag him out the door. Before he took a step, the new Epic was in his way. Redshirt's eyes widened. Teleportation was a pretty powerful ability, and the Epic stood with the confidence of a High Epic. The new Epic's eyes looked bright, excited. "I am Paradox. And I have decided to forbid you leave this place." Paradox just smiled as Doubletake tried to punch him. Redshirt flinched again. The fist never landed. Doubletake kept swinging, arm moving slower and slower as it approached the Epic. Paradox smiled, then leaned to the side. Moving once more at regular speed, Doubletake stumbled as his punch landed on thin air. Reaching in with a quick, hard punch, Paradox hit Doubletake. Hard. Redshirt doubled over. Paradox looked over, noticing. "Apologies, I forgot about that. Redshirt, isn't it? You have a portion of infinity as well, don't you?" His hand reached out and grabbed Doubletake, who froze. Not even his chest moved, eyes frozen in position. Switch stood, looking at Paradox with a hint of fear, or maybe anger. Paradox turned to the vanilla. "What's your name?" The vanilla smiled, extending a hand. "Joseph Parker." "You have strength. Life. I would be pleased to aid you in the arena. You have much I need to learn, it seems. And you, Redshirt. You and I, we are brothers of a sort. Once mortal, we now hold infinity. Although your infinity looks a bit more painful,” he laughed. Redshirt stared. A High Epic would be pleased to help him? Why? He wasn't worth anything, was he? He stepped over, shaking the outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Edited November 17, 2015 by 18th Shard

[ShadowOfTheSun he/him]

See-Saw slipped inside the large room through the wall, walking straight through everything in his path.  All those who the invisible Epic passed through shivered and fell down, unconscious.  The people who noticed the line of bodies tried frantically to get toward the walls, yelling at the people in their way to get out of it.  a small show of chaos ensued.

     See-Saw materialized right behind the bar, and grabbed a can of coke, then jumped nimbly back over the counter.  The dumbfounded bartender stood stunned.  Finally he regained his ability to speak, "You'd better pay for that, you rascal!". 

See-Saw flipped a coin over his shoulder, and winked at one of the people trying not to stare at him.  The young man quickly turned his gaze away, but turned back when he heard the bartender's outraged cry.  "Hey!  That's not even close to enough money!"

The young man looked back toward See-Saw, but the young Epic was nowhere to be found.  The bartender grumpily went back to serving his drinks.

     See-Saw grinned to himself, and went to sit at one of the nearly empty tables.  He sat down, then re-materialized.  The middle-aged woman at the table jumped, but quickly covered it with a cough.  See-Saw laughed heartily, and then shook his can of coke furiously.  He finally tilted it at one man standing close by, minding his own business, and opened the can.  Coke sprayed all over the man, who quickly jumped out of the way, but nevertheless was soaked in sticky liquid.  The man yelled at the Epic, and slowly approached the laughing man.  He pulled a small gun out of his pocket, and aimed it at his head, growling threats.

See-Saw smiled, and simply pulled his own massive pistol out of his pocket.  The man's eyes widened, and he began to pull the trigger.  See-Saw felt the bullet coming at him, as if in slow motion, and quickly turned Invisible.  The bullet passed through the Epic's head, and planted itself firmly in the wall.  The startled man with the now empty gun jumped back, but was too late.  See-Saw materialized, and shot three bullets into the terrified aggressor.

The bartender was yelling, but was too late.  One man fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from his leg, and screaming in agony.

     See-Saw called over to the angry bartender, asking what all these famous Epic duels were about, and if he could join one or two...

Edited November 24, 2015 by ShadowOfTheSun

[Quiver he/him]

Okay, very short post, but...considering this topic hasn't been active for a while, I figure one quick push isn't a bad thing. Sorry for lagging in activity.

Was it odd, that the main point in Salem's favor was also the main drawback to it?

Sentry considered the question idly as she marched down the street. She did so often.

Salem was like an oasis in the desert of the Fractured States. Anything that was needed, Soulcaster's powers provided.

But... Soulcaster's. Salem's greatest strength, and it's greatest drawback. For all the power he wielded, he seemed content to just sit back, and encourage ever-more escalating chaos in his arena.

It was an effective outlet, true, and confining the murderous rages to the ring meant some measure of stability for the town. Soulcaster's himself seemed disinterested in ruling...which, if nothing else, had created decent opportunities for those who managed to find their way into government.

Still... it was frustrating. Salem existed -which was more than most cities could say these days- but it could be so much more.

All it needed was the right hands at the helm...

Fixed typos. Moral of the story? Roleplaying when going on a 12 hour shift is a terrible idea...

Edited February 9, 2016 by Quiver

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Countdown was mad. Real mad. Like, about to blast this girl to shreds mad. "Sentry is not to be disturbed!!!" He roared at the girl. "Do you not know the rules in this town. Rules exist! Order must be kept!!"

Countdown felt his palm heating up. Flickers of green energy danced across his skin. If he was the cowardly girl on the ground, he would see his eyes glowing green. Energy would be crackling in the air. Countdown put a bubble up a second later.

He stepped forward. "Get up, girl. You are coming with me!!" Countdown grinned as he dropped the bubble and lead the girl to the car.

[RippleGylf she/her]

Heartsleeve rushed into the car. Sparks, she thought. Fear crept into her face. This was obviously a Very High Epic, and one that she didn't want to mess with. The green electricity was proof of that. Of course, this distinction came too late to be of any use. All of this for a stupid piece of paper. Not even the actual paper, just looking at it.

 

She hated this feeling. The powerlessness of being called "girl." Of being considered less than what she was. He probably didn't realize the full extent of what he had done to her. Probably just acting like his usual High Epic self. The echoes of a once familiar voice bounced through her head.

 

"You useless idiot. What did you think you could do here? Find a job? Don't you remember all of those failed applications? Who would ever want you to help them? And you've always known that you have to control words, but you never do. You disgust me. This is why they all hate you."

 

She shuddered as she sat down in the unfamiliar vehicle. Just give it time. It'll go away. Eventually.

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Countdown snarled as he lead the girl into the car. He handcuffed her, and gunned the engine. As he was about to drive off to Soulcaster. He realized something. His energy, that reacted strangely to Epics, had leapt away from the girl. Countdown turned slowly, his mind calculating possiblities. An Epic.

"Girl!" Countdown barked. "You are an Epic, are'nt you!!"

Countdown summoned a glowing green ball of energy. "You have 30 seconds to tell me!!"

29, 28, 27...

[RippleGylf she/her]

She nearly gasped. It shouldn't be a surprise, of course. He probably figured that out the same way she did. Well, that could be some comfort, at least. If his powers possibly couldn't affect her, then she needn't feel so worried. Right?

"Yes," she said hurriedly. "H-Heartsleeve, at your service." The relatively low Epic bowed her head subserviently. Higher Epics seemed to appreciate gestures like that, most of the time. Edited February 11, 2016 by RippleGylf

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Countdown nodded. Heartsleeve. Probably a emotional Epic. Hmm....

She could be useful, Countdown thought.

"Noted. Would you possibly be interested in a job?"

Edited February 14, 2016 by Anamaximder

[RippleGylf she/her]

Well. That was sudden. One moment, the Epic seemed ready to kill her, the next, offering her a job. Surely something was still wrong.

 

"Of- of course," she replied, daring to speak normally again. "I specialize in emotional manipulation. Doesn't work on Epics, but is quite effective with vanillas."

Edited February 12, 2016 by RippleGylf

[Quiver he/him]

"It doesn't work on epics? That's unfortunate."

 

The chipper, upbeat voice came from behind the pair. Sentry marched towards the vehicle, hands clasped behind her back. Despite the bright tone, her expression was anything but, her short-clipped blonde hair framing a face which was... well, if not frowning, then certainly expressing very severe disapproval.

 

"Yes," she added, "quite unfortunate." She focused her sight on Countdown.

 

"It means that this young girl is entirely unrelated to how disappointed I am in you."

Edited February 12, 2016 by Quiver

[ChickenPlague he/him]

Coldpin was on a mission! Sadly it didn't involve using his powers. Not necessarily anyway, but it was so much more fun putting posters to walls with his powers than glue. This is how Coldpin justified his happiness with such a simple task. It was most definitely not caused by some innate love for work. As he froze another wet poster that was pressed deep into the walls grooves and breaks he looked around to notice a most interesting fact- all the other posters were incredibly similar. All showing the same woman- in most of them she had golden hair, so he assumed that blonde was their natural, or at least most common, color.

"Hey man!"he called out to an elderly individual carrying groceries.

"Who's the fine woman in this poster?", he pointed towards one of the posters near him with an open palm- the lady seemed rather important.

The man quickly assessed him and decided he was an Epic- probably the needle-studded cloak.

"In the poster indeed," he chuckled,"That's Sentry lord..."

"Coldpin.",Coldpin said

"Thank you. That's Sentry- a rather nice Epic with an incredibly healthy obsession over her posters.", the man said surprisingly calmly.

"And the powers...?"Coldpin questioned.

"Seeing and hearing through those posters!", he finished grinning slightly.

"Well since I haven't said anything bad about her..."Coldpin said slowly an uncertainty budding in his chest.

"Your poster is obscuring her poster." He bowed his head to the piece of paper- whether he was pointing or apologizing for Coldpin's buffoonery was uncertain.

"Ripping it off won't help will it?" Coldpin asked asked hopingly

"Yep.", the man said.

"Well then I better apologize!" Coldpin exclaimed!

"Yep.", he repeated.

"Oh great Sentry, visor of beauty, telescope of paper, I apologize from the depths of my cold, icy heart.", he whispered to the poster," Was that good?"

"Sorry, my hearing isn't my strong side.", the man said escaping the question.

"Ah well. What's your name?", Coldpin finally enquired.

"Amadour. By the way- what's your poster for?" ,the man asked, presenting a counter-question as though they were in a duel with question marks.

"I was just about to tell you. It's for a ball my friend will be holding tomorrow evening. It's mostly for Epics and other important people, but you can come as my helper or some-such. You seem to know a lot about the city.", Coldpin explained

"Can I really choose?", Amadour asked his expression slightly pained.

"Yeah, but why would you decline meeting such lovely people? I thought people didn't have to fear Epics here?", Coldpin asked jokingly.

"No reason.", Amadour ended their chat, his teeth shining yellow-white in the sunlight.

Edited February 15, 2016 by ChickenPlague

[Quiver he/him]

"Offering a job strikes me as somewhat presumptous on your part," Sentry added, her tongue clicking with disapproval.

Of course, how else could he have done it? Strictly speaking, he probably should have presented the woman to Soulcaster first, informed him of her gifts before offering her work...but Soulcaster would probably kill him for interrupting his debauchery. What use was a beauracracy that actively worked against itself half the time?

She sighed, shKing her head. "I expect better, particularly in matters like this. Security is my purview, and ignorance is not an excuse. That this young girl has committed the most egregious-"

She suddenly stopped, frowning.

"...The fact that this girl has committed the second most egregious fault to our security today means she should have been brought to me, not hand cuffed to your car. Incidently," she added with a smile, "it's a very nice car.

"Now then. You two have introduced yourselves, it's time I did the same." She returned her smile to the younger epic.

"Heartsleeve, wasn't it? My name is Sentry. Welcome to Salem."

Edited February 17, 2016 by Quiver

[Nashan’Elin he/him]

Snare walked down the road, bare feet quietly slapping the road. He walked for miles, watching the city in the distance grow larger and larger until he stood just before it. There it was, catching the early afternoon light. Soulcaster’s city, the place where, it was rumored, Epics could go to test their skills and do battle without the fear of death. Salem. It was also Snare’s destination. He looked at the city, marvelling at its relatively unbroken state. After passing through destroyed settlement after destroyed settlement, Snare was glad to see something well-maintained. Digging into his pockets, he pulled out two old, scuffed-up baseballs. Then, Snare used his power and Linked the balls. He started to juggle with one hand. As he tossed the one ball, the other moved in tandem. And like that, Snare began to stroll into Salem, offhandedly juggling as he walked.

 

After a while, Snare noticed something odd about Salem. Everywhere he looked, there was a poster featuring a woman looking out across the city.

I wonder what that’s all about. Actually, unless those posters are some sort of Epic-related device, I don’t care. He turned his gaze from the posters dismissively. Still juggling, he walked through the city of Salem. He walked past a bar, which appeared decently full, despite the fact that it couldn’t be more than 3pm. He even saw a couple of people- Epics, by their garb, talking at a car. He didn’t go nearer, though. In his experience, other Epics weren’t worth talking to. Sure, they were more interesting than vanillas, but they were always too stuck-up to have a good conversation with.

All of a sudden, he saw a large sports stadium. There even appeared to be some sort of activity going on inside.

Good. Snare thought That’s certain to have someone I can talk to in it. It turned out, he didn’t know the half of it. As he began to move in the direction of the stadium, the gates opened and people began streaming out, in a hubbub of noise and excitement.

Oh great. A bunch of excited vanillas. Probably all excited about one of those arena battles. Snare didn’t really care about the battles. He was going to enter them, and he was going to win, but that was just the way to get into the Dreamstate that Soulcaster made for winners. He needed that, so that he could begin working on refining his powers.

Snare unLinked his baseballs, stuffed them in his jacket, and walked over to the crowd. He searched through the crowd for someone who looked logical enough for him to talk to.

No, not him… or her… too old… too young… not them. Ah! There.  He found what he was looking for: a middle-aged man, alone, didn’t appear too excited or too sad. He walked up to the man, and stepped forward, blocking his path. The man stopped. He looked slightly surprised, but not intimidated. Either the man didn’t realize Snare was an Epic, or was under some sort of protection from another Epic. Snare wasn’t planning on angering anyone who might like this particular vanilla, however. He didn’t have that kind of time. All he wanted was information.

“Excuse me.” Snare said brusquely. “Is this the place where these ‘fights’ happen?”

“Yes it is.” the man replied. “You an Epic?”

Snare nodded without saying anything.

“Alright, well if you want to try your hand at the arena, head over the bar that way” he pointed

“And write down your name and powerset.”

Snare nodded in gratitude and stepped back, out of the man’s way. The man hurried off.

Must be that bar I passed earlier. Guess I’ll head there. His path clear, Snare turned and strode back towards the crowded bar he had passed earlier, ready to sign up for whatever trials the Epic leader, Soulcaster, had in store. He would get that Dreamstate. And he would figure out exactly what he was capable of, and what he would still need for his plan.  

[Voidus]

Meliability walked through the darkening streets of Salem, she had to move depressingly slowly so she didn't scare all the people around her, not that she particularly cared about their feelings but she'd been told that she wouldn't get to play as many games if she scared everyone.

So she continued her painful progress through the city, heading towards the building where the next days matches would be posted.

She finally reached the building and stopped holding back, those inside would be arena participants, Epics and those somewhat accustomed to fighting them. She had no reason to hide here.

A gust of wind followed her as she blurred into the building, finding the sheet detailing tomorrows matches pinned to a wall.

She scanned through the names quickly, recognizing a few of them but only looking for her own.

"Afternoon match? But that's so loooong." She complained as soon as she saw her placement.

She sped over to the bar proper and ordered a drink of cola, setting her scythe to one side as she took her drink.

While she was drinking she noticed a man she hadn't seen before, his brow was furrowed in a look of concentration and he didn't seem to be wearing any shoes.

She tapped her scythe with one foot, causing it to lose its form and wrap around one leg as a chain as she walked carefully over to the man.

"Excuse me." She said loudly as she approached. "Are you Imperum, no wait, Impum? Hang on."

She blurred quickly again, moving across the bar and back in an instant.

"Imperium?" She clarified. "I'm fighting him tomorrow. I don't think we've played together before so I thought it might be you since I don't know you either and you're not wearing shoes so you might be fun to play with and you're here so you must like to play. Do you like to play?"

[Nashan’Elin he/him]

After checking the next day’s arena battles and putting down his name and powerset, Snare had sat down at the bar and mused, deep in thought.

No one seemed to notice him, or, if they did, no one seemed to give him a second thought, which was why he was surprised when a loud voice suddenly interrupted him.

"Excuse me." He turned, seeing a girl standing behind his chair.

She was short, maybe ten or eleven years old, and had long black hair. She appeared to be wearing some kind of fancy dress, also black.

She kept speaking "Are you Imperum, no wait, Impum? Hang on."

She blurred to his eyes, and, an instant later, re-appeared.

A child Epic. Intriguing. Were those speed powers or teleportation powers?

She started jabbering about someone named Imperium and playing and the fact Snare didn’t have any shoes, ending with asking him if he liked to play.

He took a deep breath. “If by play, you mean participate in these death battles that I’ve heard about, then yes. I’ve just signed up, against someone called Caltrop. I’m not Imperium, however. The name’s Snare. You are?”

[Quiver he/him]

Sentry clicked her tongue.

"Now now, don't be shy. And don't look so afraid! One thing that Salem strives for is that welcoming sense of security and community."

It was a scripted response- one that Sentry had scripted for exactly this kind of circumstance. Salem drew many people to it for the arena, so really, calling it the happiest place in the Fractured States wasn't much (or any) of a stretch.

"Now, Countdown, kindly remove the handcuffs, won't you? Our new friend here is hardly likely to do anything stupid or foolish, are you?"

[Vikro he/him]

Picture to be added later, my tablet can't add pictures.

Vandal stood still, admiring his future piece of art. Salem. Such a plain city now, but soon it'll be just as glorious as the previous places he had improved. Unfortunately, most people didn't appreciate his art, especially that last town. Didn’t they realize how depressing it is to get literally chased out of the town where you live?

He focused, and walked into Salem, looking at the buildings around him. How boring. Made in brick or painted walls, everything looked the same. Each building was almost the same color, with little or no variation in each building. Obviously, whoever had designed these buildings had been an idiot. Who would buy such a house? He noticed as some people walked into one of the houses. Apparently the people here are uncultured brutes. But, that was why he was here, to make this place beautiful again.

He continued down the street, noticing a poster. He walked over to it, noticing it's bright color, and the women standing at its center. It looked like an old Soviet poster. He smiled, appreciative that someone else was trying to make his town beautiful. He continued down the street, noticing how many of the posters there were. Why so many? Didn't this person know that if you made the same art over and over, it eventually became just as drab as the world around it? As he walked, his frustration continued to grow at this women. Why!? Why would she do this, pretending to be a lover of art, yet destroy it instead? Suddenly, he realized what was going on. This woman wasn't providing art, she was proving a foundation for other to make art! Seeing as no one else had realized this, he knew that he would have to set an example, to lead the people of Salem on the road to enlightenment.

Walking over to the nearest poster, he decided what he would do to this one. Best to begin simple, he decided. Poking the women's eyes, he made two black dots. He then drew his finger across the bottom of the poster, making an upward curve. He stepped back, admiring his work. Indeed, quite simple, but this is a lesson of art to this city. He turned away from the smiley face be had made, continued to other posters. He sometimes did a single one, and others he did in a row. There really are a lot of these things. She really sees how much these people need to practice. On one, he made a top hat, a monocle, and a mustache, creating an ideal gentleman. On another, he had her holding a teddy bear. He continued though the city, proving art on the carefully prepared foundation presented to him, showing this city he true meaning of art. And on each one he left his marking on the upper left corner, a handprint within a circle. The people should know the name of their teacher, shouldn't they?

[Bladestorm]

Bladestorm walked into the town, his suit and tie backlit by the orbs of energy glowing behind him. They might not be the greatest in combat, but they made for a great entrance. The city was grand, the buildings looking pristine in comparison to most of the cities of the country. He considered flying up and announcing his presence with a light show, but thought better of it. He had heard that the ruler of this town of combat was unkind to those who caused such disturbances. Spotting a nearby vanilla, he twirled her around with a gust of wind.

"I've heard this town hosts the ultimate contests. Is this true, Servant?"

The vanilla, a young blond woman in her early twenties, recognized him as an epic immediately, both by the obvious display of power and expensive garb. Adopting an appropriately submissive posture, she quickly answered.

"Yes, sir, it is. The contests are held in the big dome up there, but you have to sign up in the bar down the street."

"Very well. You will lead me there, as fast as you can." he stated.

The girls name was Elizabeth. She had had experience with epics before, and knew that a request like that was really a death threat in disguise. So the girl ran down the street, as the young Epic floated next to her. She herself was fairly new in town, having come because she heard it was one of the most stable in the state. That would be a welcome change from the burning rubble that had been most of her old town. As she ran down the poster-clad street, she thanked her lucky stars she had known the answers to his questions, despite being new. Anything else could have proven fatal.

"Alright, girl, we've stopped, so we must be here. What must I do now?" asked Bladestorm. If this girl proved herself useful, she might even find herself in his service and protection. He could use a servant if this was to become his home, and as the idea of endless combat would be his version of heaven, he believed this would become his home very quickly. To him, the city was already beautiful. A paradise of gorgeous buildings of elegant beauty, covered in art and posters of a woman worthy to be this cities Queen. Even if some stupid vanilla appeared to have vandalized the odd one.

Elizabeth was amazed. This epic not only hadn't killed her for existing, but now actually asked her a question. Most powerful epics would rather die than lower themselves to asking a mortal for instructions. And in the dark street, lit by energy and soaring on the wind, he looked quite powerful. wind swirled around him, whispering quietly. She had been in a town ruled by a wind epic, and if this man was anything like him he would be dangerous. Best to be as respectful and flattering as possible, she thought.

"Ummmm, I believe you go inside, and tell them your power set, my lord. Then they tell you when your first fight will be, and I'm sure you will win."

"Wait here, please," ordered blade. He entered the building and quickly found where to sign up for the fights. Exiting, he decided he would keep the Vanilla.

"What's your name, Girl,"he asked.

The girl had stood outside the Bar the last few minutes, but not because of his order. She was simply dumbstruck that an epic would say please! Those passing her on the street did so without too much question. She looked like a vanilla under some epics influence, and it was never smart to look twice at oddities like her. But her train of amazed thought continued.He had acted strangely the entire time. Epics like this seemed to have a belief of proper behaviour, rarely killing unless they were annoyed or angered. After living in a place of carnage for so long, this epic seemed angelic. Suddenly She heard him speak, but only caught the word "name". On a hunch that he had asked hers, and praying she was right, she said "Elizabeth, sir," trying to sound meek but failing to keep her previous wonder from her voice.

"Liz, then. You work for me now. You're going to help me find a place to stay, and then you're going to help me in all things and be mine. Now, lead the way."

Bladestorm had found the greatest city in the world, and soon it would be his playground and palace. He couldn't wait.

[RippleGylf she/her]

 

Heartsleeve breathed a sigh of relief as Countdown removed the handcuffs. She wasn't going to be killed immediately, at the very least. 

 

"I would be honored to serve such Epics as you two. Now, is there anything that I can do? Any vanilla problems?"

[Quiver he/him]

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

 

But of course Heartsleeve would think that. Sentry eyed the girl up and down with an indulgent smile. If touching Sentry's things hadn't been a sign of the girls ignorance, that question was. But then again, Sentry couldn't really find it in her to blame the girl for it; after all, the Fractured States had that name for a reason. They were dangerous and wild and desolate, filled not just with problem Vanilla's, but problem Epic's. 

 

Civilisation was a rare Oasis in an unending desert. The like of Salem was utterly inconceivable.

 

"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-"

 

The woman cut off mid-sentence. As she spoke, Sentry had reached out with her power, surveying the city. Everything she said was completely true. Salem didn't have any problems, and -if she were to look into any Vanilla's house or ask them- she was sure they would agree. She felt quite a twinge of pride at that fact. After all, Soulcaster was too busy lounging around the arena to enforce real order and peace and serenity in the city, so, really, it was an achievement all of Sentry's making. Everyone knew that they could rest easy knowing that she was watching over them...

 

Which was why the fact that one of her posters had black pits where the eyes should be was distressing.

 

She refocused her attention; she had enough posters that she could see that one from another angle. And what she saw was a pair of sunglasses scribbled over her posters eyes.

 

She rapidly flicked through the other posters in the area. A teddy bear? A doodle? Throughout the city, someone hadn't just touched them- they had scribbled all over them, vandalizing them, vandalizing Sentry and-

 

Sentry suddenly stopped cycling through her posters. It wasn't by choice. But she had seen something scribbled onto one of the posters, and suddenly, she just couldn't look through them anymore.

Sentry resisted the urge to shake as she raised a hand to her upperlip, where someone had drawn a thick, handlebar moustache.

 

"I..." The woman blinked, focusing on Heartsleeve and trying to sound composed. It was probably difficult with her hand covering her mouth.

"I... what was I saying?"

[breakingamber he/him]

Insert cool sword pic here (No, I'm not actually going to insert one  )

 

Abaddon glided into Salem, 100 feet above the ground. He was back for the fights, of course. They were really quite entertaining; he'd gotten quite a win-streak before he'd left. He'd grown to enjoy this city, although the fact that he couldn't kill the vanillas was annoying. They were generally extremely disrespectful.

 

Looking down upon the streets, he saw a new type of poster everywhere, Sentry's doing of course. Wonder where she is? 

 

Wait, is that-

 

Abaddon swooped down to get a better look. Yes, there was a picture of Sentry with sunglasses on it. And nearby, one with a teddy bear. And another one where there were dots on her eyes. Guess it's up to me to find out what insolent jerk did this.

 

Abaddon followed the trail of marked posters, until he came across a fellow who looked different than all the others. And he was walking towards another one of Sentry's posters. No doubt he was going to vandalize it.

 

"Hey! What the sparks are you doing? If you're new here, here's the law: No one touches Sentry's posters, unless you want law enforcement on your tail. And Showstopper's never pleasant." He'd had a run in with her once. It wasn't pleasant.

Edited April 12, 2016 by breakingamber

[Vikro he/him]

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 he/him]

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 he/him]

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 he/him]

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