Kobold King

He was the one who was once called Lincoln, mentioned in Firefight. He was part of the attempted superhero team that Prof and Regalia were part of. To the best of my knowledge we don't know anything about his powers, though.

Hello, and welcome! Here's a quick summary of The Dalles' history and political climate I wrote up for you. Two years before the action of the RP, an Epic named Koschei the Deathless attacked The Dalles. Koschei was a healer, capable of healing others from any wound. However, once he'd healed a wound he could cause the same injury to reappear at any time. Koschei gathered a gang of Epics and began brutally murdering countless people, using his power to practically raise them from the dead and demand their loyalty. Koschei managed to completely gain control of The Dalles, wresting control from the National Guard unit stationed there. He began rule as a ruthless dictator, plotting to take over the whole of Oregon. Before his plans could be fully realized, however, a normal man named Remington Springfield discovered his weakness. Springfield shot and killed Koschei in a stand-off that has become legendary in part because of its significance, and in part because no one knows for sure what happened during their battle. Remington Springfield became a folk hero, but he quietly left the city to live with his in-laws in Portland. With Koschei dead, the National Guard moved back into town, and the commander of the unit declared martial law over the city. This commander was named Stephen Vondra. Vondra had no powers himself, but he and his soldiers managed to gain secure control over The Dalles. This control is maintained in part by the small team of Epics employed by the Guard, who are prohibited from using their powers while not on active duty. The corruption still manifests in these Epics, but as of yet all members of this team have remained loyal. There are other factions afoot in The Dalles, however. The Epic Quicksilver is a former hitman with the ability to manipulate metal, which he has used to devastating effect countless times. Fortunately Quicksilver has little desire to rule, and instead reigns as the king of the city's criminal underground. His gang is known as the Slivers, who are widely feared and hated in the city. For two years an uneasy peace has existed in The Dalles, but at the current time a chaotic and unpredictable element has been inserted. The city has been invaded by the Panda, an Epic with the power to control any organic matter. He is also afflicted with the delusional belief that he's been tasked by "The Radiant Panda" to create a utopia for panda bears--which he intends to accomplish by eradicating human settlements and filling them with his creations. He leads armies of once-ordinary men who have been mutated into horrendous panda-human hybrids, which wield wooden weapons created by their dark master. The Panda's armies run rampant through The Dalles as we speak, opposed by Vondra's Epic teams and a handful of newcomers to the city's political scene. The city stands at an important crossroads of its history--will Vondra succeed in creating a utopia for normal humans, freed from the widespread tyranny of Epics? Will the Panda take the city as his own, ruling not just the lives but the very flesh and blood of its inhabitants? Or will the city be torn asunder by the conflict? Well, that's the Question, isn't it?

Cheese United. The only man to have lost a hundred rep in a day--on purpose--and to have progressed forty points from the abyss in that same day. We inhabit very opposite sides of the reputation scale, your zucchininess, but I tip my crown to you nonetheless.

I used my entire downvote quota on you. I never use it anyway, so assisting in your strange dreams is a worthy enough use for it.

I think you should know that the inability to transfigure animals bigger than a monkey isn't very comforting to the guy who plays a race of creatures the size of monkeys. I like the limitations, though. I too would like to see a map of the continent we're playing on, if that's at all possible.

At this point, I wouldn't even be surprised if Tia and Prof were responsible for the Kennedy assassination. Those two kept some serious secrets from the other Reckoners. And while I get that some level of secrecy is required in a secret society, the secrets they keep have actively endangered the lives of other Reckoners. The claim that Prof's gifts were technology would have resulted in Megan's death had she not been an Epic herself, and if they had come clean about Prof and Regalia's early association, the Reckoners might have pieced together Regalia's master plan before it was too late. In Calamity I'm hoping that Tia will finally start answering some direct questions, because at this point, David and the other Reckoners deserve it.

I saw your rep level elsewhere on the site and thought to myself, "Aww, the poor dear must have made a pretty bad impression in his introduction topic. I'll come over and see what the fuss is about." Welcome to the forum! I'm not sure why you put so much stock in red over green, but you're quite welcome here regardless. (If you posted something I found offensive, would I downvote it, or would I upvote it? Not that I think you'll do any such thing, but it's a pressing hypothetical question. )

I searched around a bit, but I couldn't find any other topics for showing off awesome desktop backgrounds. So I made this. For a while I used the amazing Shallan endpapers from Words of Radiance. But more recently I switched to a fantastic piece by MicrocosmicEcology on DeviantArt. It's called "The Ovi Return," and it depicts the artist's conception of a fictional species of sapient dinosaur. The picture is beautiful, illustrating a perfectly designed Oviraptor-like dinosaur holding a spear, standing over a majestic and exotic desert environment. The image fits my interests and my artistic preferences in ways I can't gush over enough. How 'bout you guys? Anyone else have superb desktop images you completely adore? Feel like sharing?

Modus Operandi: Breaking into people's houses and rooting around for free stuff. Claims that people with important knowledge appear with glowing exclamation marks over their heads.

Does he have other pieces of Epic technology besides the energy projectors? I like the name Blight. Ozymandias is pretty cool too, though. (And I'm not just saying that because I came up with the name. Why do you ask? )

Nor does it explain Newton's powerset--control over momentum and enhanced speed really have nothing at all to do with meeting a family's expectations. Not unless her family had some really strange expectations for their daughter. I like the idea, but it seems like if it were true, we'd see a lot more direct correlation between weaknesses and powers. Nightwielder's the only Epic who could fit with this theory, and we have no idea why he's scared of sunlight in the first place.

When reading the word "but" on the Nightwatcher Boons/Banes game sends a shiver down your spine.

Granted, but using them even once will shatter your soul into a billion fragments, utterly annihilating your consciousness. (Attempting to use your Nightwatcher abilities to alter your own bane will cause the universe to implode, so don't get any funny ideas.) I wish for the ability to alter people's emotional states.

"What's the worst that could happen?" --Motto of the Finch family. Found engraved on the only surviving upright wall in the Oregon Wasteland after the Epic Wars.

"What about the button underneath the sunflower painting that will resurrect anyone who's killed here within the next five hours?" "Nah, I'm sure we'll be fine. Besides, it took forever to get that painting perfectly square. It'd be a shame to move it again."

Oh. Forgot about that. That sounds like quite the coincidence. How would top-secret technology from her uncle wind up in her hands? I think getting Angel some Epic tech would be awesome, don't get me wrong. I just wonder whether hooking her up with a black market dealer might be a more plausible way of achieving said awesomeness. Lightwards is definitely smart enough to have scored a Beta on Thoughttown's tests, in both book smarts and basic reasoning skills. He's insane, but certainly not dumb. It's hard to say with Revolution. I think she'd score as a high Gamma or a low Beta--not quite as good at making connections as Sam, but still pretty smart. (It should also be noted that Altermind's tests may or may not be an accurate measure of intelligence. Personally, I suspect them of being rigged to fit AM's narrow view of intelligence.) Backtrack would probably be so anxious about getting kicked out of the city that he'd cry over the entrance exam. If he could stop blubbering long enough to focus on the test, he'd score as a Delta. If not, he'd wind up an Epsilon or a Zeta.

Glad you liked it! Nah, the "P.S: I hate you" was a reference to TwiLyght's Harry Potter fanfic of the same name. Ringle's just a random NPC. He's probably still working in Thoughttown to this day, kindly but cowardly.

I think "I'll be the pebble to your boot" is my favorite Remington quote, but those two are wise as well. He's a very quotable person. Thanks! According to my timeline Scorch developed his powers and joined Thoughttown in 2017, so he'd have been a new enough Epic at the time. New enough to be testing the limits of his occupation, putting a bunch of scars on people like Ringle who annoyed him. I hope my liberties were permissible. "Epsilon" is a Thoughttown euphemism for "dumb as a brick, but useful."

She doesn't really suspect Funtimes of cannibalism, but she wanted to stress her point to Altermind. Speaking of Altermind, this my half of the event Mailliw and I schemed about on PMs. Speaking of Mailliw: Mailliw, I added a bit about Thoughttown using Greek letters to grade entry applicants, because I thought I remembered a post mentioning the Greek alphabet being used in official Thoughttown affairs. If I'm wrong I can edit the post.

Good to hear it. In other news, What Happened in Portland post 857 is out. I call it "In Which There is a Long and Boring Backstory Sequence, and a Veiled Reference to One of TwiLyght's Old Fanfiction.net Stories."

I never forget those who turn me down. Samantha, I'm giving you one last chance. You're a smart girl, show the world what you can do. If you used your brains with your heart, you could be successful. You could provide for your mother and yourself. You wouldn't be mocked by others. I won't give you another chance. Will you join Thoughttown? Sam stared down at the paper, mouth dry and heart pumping a bit more loudly than usual. Her eyes flickered around at the table; at Doctor Funtimes, grinning idiotically with a stare somehow more vacant than usual; at the emperor Lightwards, who was glaring at Funtimes as if she were the root source of all evil; and most of all at Altermind. The hallucination that ruled a city. Taking a deep breath, Sam hid her face behind the clipboard and retreated into her thoughts. The more he thought about it, the more Lightwards realized that Doctor Funtimes was the root source of all evil. Perhaps not technically, but definitely in a metaphysical sense. She sat across the table, grinning with the mask of bubbly enthusiasm she liked to put on. She was quite probably the most despicable Epic he'd ever met; she stole vanillas as her servants, then feigned moral superiority over her peers by calling them "friends." She spoke as if she had no intention of ruling or bettering the world, yet at every turn she strove to prevent the high-minded from seizing control. She's not a person so much as a force of entropy, Lightwards thought through his steadily buzzing brain. Every second I go without a means of controlling her is a second at risk. Memories flashed through his head. Standing neck deep in snow during his attempted takeover of Sacramento. Falling endlessly through the air at the whim of Möbius. Standing in tar as Funtimes smiled and asserted her dominance. I'm a pawn, at mercy of the queens and rooks of the board, he thought bitterly. My cause will never progress this way. I wonder... how effortlessly could I kill her in her seat right now? My Warriors could blow out her brains before she could teleport. I'd display my might to Altermind and rid myself of an enemy in one strike... Pamela and the toy soldiers were swaying drunkenly around the room, seeming somehow more lost and aimless than usual. With some difficulty Lightwards managed to steady them, slowly inching their hands towards their weapons. “There´s a rather simple solution for dealing with Corpsemaker.” Lightwards snapped his head around, glaring intensely as Lucentia. The woman was sitting stiffly in her seat, hands on the table as she interrupted the meeting. Lightwards felt his teeth begin to grate together. “All you have to do is make sure I can get to him, and I´ll make a fitting prison for him," Lucentia went on, using a black diamond statuette to illustrate her point. She encased the human form in a sphere of dark crystal, and then rolled the ball to the center of the table. "Suddenly, he can neither see nor free himself, making him completely harmless. I assume there are no objections.” "You assume?" Lightwards snapped, temper flaring at the pompous queen. "I..." he trailed off, feeling slightly light-headed. In honestly, that was the plan he'd been considering. There was no rational reason for attacking the concept now, solely because of its current proponent. He still needed to suppress anger as he continued. "That is precisely the project I had entertained," he continued, keeping his voice level. "Using Lucentia's ability, CorpseMaker can be contained indefinitely in a neutralized state, like an insect trapped in amber. But this will not be as easy as she implies. We will require a full coordination between Thoughttown's forces and my own, in order to eradicate the Dominion's lieutenants and to draw CorpseMaker out into the open. For this cause, I recommend we supply one another with mobiles, in order to maintain constant contact." Finishing his response, Lightwards took a deep breath and glared at the rest of the table. First at Lucentia, then at Altermind's stoic posture, and finally, he once again directed his scowl at the glittering root of all evil. Six Years Previously Thoughttown Samantha Trattner lifted a pen from her paper, utterly exhausted. The rest of the room was quiet save for the quiet whir of ceiling fans, the other desks empty. When she'd first come here there was a boy her age and a girl a few years younger than her; they'd both been escorted in tears out of the building. And for good reason; many of the children expelled from Thoughttown wouldn't live long enough to become adults. Not in this city. Stomach clenching with the thought, Samantha anxiously poured over her test. It was a plain white sheet of paper, with a simple and stern-looking typeface asking a series of bizarre questions. Questions like "Which number should come next in the series 1 - 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 8 - 13," followed by a list of possible answers. She'd done her best to answer them all correctly. She could only hope she'd done well enough to pass. Checking her answers for what felt like the billionth time, Samantha raised a hand into the air. "Mr. Ringle?" she called nervously. "I finished." The man sitting at the other end of the hall rose from his seat, crossing the room to where Samantha sat. Mr. Ringle was a tall, spindly man with short grey hair and a bushy mustache that looked like the brush on a vacuum cleaner. There was a scar that looked like it came from a bad burn across his forearm, though he hadn't explained where it came from. As far as Samantha could tell, his job in Thoughttown seemed to involve taking young children's tests, evaluating them, and then telling informing them whether or not they'd be exiled. He had a vaguely tired look about him, with a weary tone of voice and wrinkles under his eyes. Right now, he was turning those wrinkled eyes over Samantha. His stare was undoubtedly turning up a wealth of details she felt she ought to feel self-conscious about--her pants were ragged with various tears and gashes, her shirt was torn and stained, and her shoes had so many holes she might as well be barefoot. But at the moment, she was simply too tired to care. She met his gaze expectantly, waiting for him to make a comment. Ringle was quiet for a moment, but finally spoke in a soft, wheezing voice. "The world hasn't been kind to you, has it Samantha?" Samantha stared for a moment, but slowly shook her head. Mr. Ringle was apparently also in charge of gross understatements; though as usual, she kept that particular observation to herself. The man looked her over a minute more before asking another question. "Where are you from, Samantha?" That question needed an actual answer. "San Diego," she replied quietly, lowering her eyes and starting at her feet. Ringle was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that," he responded, sounding sympathetic. "I heard about what happened there. Our leader Altermind spoke on it, in fact--he keeps this city defended from scourges like Obliteration, and he warns us about the dangers outside every now and then. He's a great man." His hand idly moved over the burn scar on his forearm as he spoke. "Strict at times, yes, but a great, great man." Snaping out of his reverie, Ringle glanced at Samantha. His gaze lingered on her torso, as if he were trying to count the bones in her ribcage; if her shirt were off, it would probably be possible. "Are you hungry, Samantha?" he asked finally, walking over to a small pantry at the other end of the test chamber. "We have food, you see. I'm not permitted to give you much nutrition until you've been evaluated, but we have enough of these..." He trailed off, digging about in the pantry without waiting for a response. He shortly returned with a small paper plate with a sandwich on it. It was cold, but with a smell that brought a sudden rush of memories; memories of greasy fast food from back before Calamity. Samantha eagerly plucked it off the plate and began tearing into it, suddenly aware of how hungry she'd been over the last few months. "I'm a bit sick of McMuffins myself," Ringle said with a chuckle, watching in amusement. "But I suppose they're hard to come by everywhere else but here. We have an unlimited supply, you see." Still chuckling, Ringle took the paper from the desk and retreated to his end of the test chamber. Too soon the sandwich was gone and Ringle still sat at the other end of the room, grading her test. Samantha began to feel an anxious feeling in her gut; though granted, that could have been the greasy Thoughttown food. She made herself wait patiently in her seat. I wonder if Mom's been graded yet, she wondered quietly. She started before I did. Somehow, the thought that her mother's fate may have already been decided did little to comfort her. Back to counting tiles, then, she thought dully, and began dutifully taking survey. After what felt like forever, she was shaken from her daze by Ringle's voice. "Congratulations, Samantha. You passed!" She snapped right out of her reverie in an instant. "Wait, what? Really?" Ringle was beaming broadly, holding the sheet emblazoned with a bright green letter that looked like a 'B.' "You're accepted, Samantha. You're accepted at the Beta level--not quite a genius like our leader, but more than enough to be an immensely valuable citizen of Thoughttown. Most citizens are Gammas and Deltas--Scorch got in at Epsilon, but that's mainly... well, nevermind. The important thing is Samantha, you've passed. You've never got to worry about starvation or death by Epics again." Samantha took the sheet of paper with shaking hands, feeling a rush of relief flowing over her. I did it, she thought excitedly. I'm going to live. She felt a flash of guilt at the thought, but quickly suppressed it. She got to her feet and began rushing to the door. "Whoa there," Ringle chuckled, grabbing her by the arm as she ran by. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" "I'm going to tell my mom," Samantha explained, smiling slightly. "Ah." Ringle's beam disappeared and he looked at a loss for words. "Well you see, Samantha--I haven't told you that part yet." Samantha's brief smile disappeared. "What do you..." Realization hit her. "She... she didn't pass?" Ringle cracked a weak, rueful smile. "You are a quick girl. And I hope you won't hate me for saying that the fact that you came to that conclusion so quickly makes it quite clear that you're not surprised." Samantha shook her head wildly. "No, you can't kick her out!" "Yes, I'm rather afraid we can. We don't have much of a choice, actually. She scored a 'Zeta' on the adult level tests. There is frankly no way our leader would accept such a low score." Ringle sighed as the girl continued to pull away from his grip towards the door. "Samantha, you are a very smart girl. I've got the evidence right here. I know it's hard, but you've got to make the smart choice. Your survival depends on you making the right decision today. As hard as it is to hear, you can live without your mother." "No, I can't!" Samantha yelled emphatically, tugging against the older man's grip. "You don't understand, I need her--" "I understand quite well," Ringle said sternly. "I left my family behind, Samantha. I loved my wife and son, but I saw an opportunity when it presented itself. I'm not asking you to do anything I don't understand quite well." She stopped struggling long enough to fix the man with an intense glare. "You're a coward." "I'm smart. Like you are." Samantha glared at him a moment longer before her eyes settled on the hand gripping her arm. "Now, I hope I can talk a little bit of sense into you," Ringle went on. "We've got a wonderful foster home system here, so you'll be well taken care of. You'll have nothing but the very b--" He cut off as teeth dug into his hand, making him yell out in pain and let go of her arm. Samantha quickly shoved him back and took off running through the test chamber doors and down the Thoughttown halls. Ringle shook his hand off irritably, staring down the halls after her. His other hand briefly went to a radio thinking to call the guards, but he stopped with a sigh. Samantha Trattner had made her choice. Present Day Former Sadry Residence Sam's pen furiously scratched over the paper, filling out her message. I don't know how you remember me after all this time. Maybe you are a genius like you say you are. I do know that you are still and always will be A SLONTZE. When I was a little girl I had to race to a Thoughttown truck before it drove off, since your cronies were going to dump my mother on the side of the road somewhere. I had to beg and plead to be loaded on board with all the other people your utopia left behind. And I can tell by the slontzes you're allying with that you haven't changed a bit. So no, Altermind. I think I'll take my chances with the glittery cannibal over here. I'm flattered you thought of me, but thanks but no thanks. P.S: You don't need to make yourself look like some kind of movie star. We're all pretty sure that you're secretly a warty, hairy troll with a big hideous birthmark. P.P.S: I hate you.

The Warriors wouldn't have surrendered, nor would they have spoken if by some chance they'd been restrained and captured. I think it's likely that in the social climate of the time, the police would have killed all of them rather than take the risk of capturing them, knowing Epic powers were involved. Voidgaze and someone named Dave Elwes gained their powers then. Altermind too, according to my timeline.

I intentionally have left some details vague just in case I ever decided to go back and write these scenes, but you can presume that he had not quite reached his Warrior limit by the time he was shot. So there would have been fifteen or sixteen undead shooters attacking the school. Your reasoning makes a lot of sense. That may be canon now.

The RP is set in 2023, so there are seven years in between Thoughttown's founding and the current date. I'm just wondering whether Big Al was one of the early Epics to have joined with Altermind. (I have a scene written up right now which assumes so, but I can edit it if need be.) Fire fists are better for us readers, but definitely worse for the citizens of Astoria.

I think his resurrection would have taken about twenty to thirty minutes the first time. (There's not really a system in place for it; his resurrection is a very random and chaotic process.) But even after he died, his Warriors would have continued with their default instructions to kill indiscriminately, so there'd definitely be enough chaos for him to escape after the fact. I don't think Subbly knows that Lightwards resurrected. Someone else could have though; there's enough leeway in the scene for you to write it any way you like. The way I have it in my head, Lightwards was presumed dead but the body was never recovered. But since I don't have any plans of including a news story about the incident, you can write it so that he was either presumed dead or known to be still at large.