Kobold King

I want to see David Charleston taking on the Mad Ballooner in a massive analogy duel. It'd be like two velociraptors sword-fighting; awesome yet not making any sense at all!

"Oh, hello Professor Cardinal. Had any more Quickslide nightmares? Been keeping in touch with Möbius here lately?" Somehow I can't envision Reader surviving their initial confrontation for very long.

...Is this actually a thing that's going to happen? Since if so, I'll need to shop around for Lightwards' new Dragon.

They'd certainly have a better relationship than Autumn Glass + any other Epic.

I love her already. And her insistence on calling Newcago by its old name reminds me a bit of one of our more statuesque Epics. ... I know what you're thinking, TwiLyght. ChicagoGlass does not need to be a ship.

1. He'll refortify... and then go on the war path, cracking down on crime through the city and trying to flush out Quicksilver. He won't be very happy with this. 2. This could definitely work. Just a side note though, Glamour's more of an NPC. Anyone can write him, provided he stays roughly consistent from post to post. He's basically an excuse for everyone to work their favorite songs into the RP.

"Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka..." It was a bright, sunny day in The Dalles. Sort of. It was never fully sunny in Oregon, but Glamour liked to think he made the place a little bit brighter every day. He walked with his head held high, bobbing along to the music blaring from his headphones. He wore a bright yellow hoodie with black sweatpants, standing out immediately from the more ruggedly dressed vanillas he shared the street with. They gave him a wide berth, avoiding the glittering spectra of sunbeams he cast around himself. That suited Glamour just fine. Smiling widely, he walked up to the nearest market stall and snatched a brownish apple off the counter. The market was a dingy little outdoor place, set up near a busy street and loaded with various low-quality goods. A plump man could be seen scurrying about from shelf to shelf, rearranging fruits and vegetables "You have to pay for that," the fat man said irritably, fixing Glamour with an all-too knowing glare. Glamour turned his music on higher in response, grinning with a mouth full of gone-off apple. "I can't stop this feeling Deep inside of me Girl, you just don't realize What you do to me." The shopkeeper only seemed to grow angrier at this. "I'll call the City Guard!" he yelled threateningly. "I don't put up with thieves. Especially not weaselly little Epic thieves." Glamour rolled his eyes. "Fine. Take your stupid three coins, you fat pig." He flipped the coins onto the counter, making sure that the light glinted off them in a suitably exaggerated manner. The shopkeeper muttered under his breath and tucked away the coins, and Glamour walked out with a few walnuts he'd managed to grab. Shoplifting was so much easier now that he could make his hands invisible. He strode back onto the street, humming along with the music. "When you hold me In your arms so tight You let me know Everything's all right..." "Glamour," a severe voice said from nearby. "You are reminded that the use of Epic powers is prohibited unless authorized by a city official." Glamour turned around to see a young soldier standing in the street, looking substantially alarmed and upset. Pretending not to have heard wasn't an option. The young man might be rude enough to rip out his headphones. "Epic powers?" Glamour replied instead, glancing around in mock surprise. "I don't see any Epic powers." The young soldier's face darkened, so Glamour took the liberty of brightening it again. He created a swirling vortex of disco lights to dance across his face; while barely visible in the daylight, they were apparently enough to bring a furious scowl to the soldier's expression. "Sir," he repeated through gritted teeth, "You are reminded..." "Yeah, yeah, I know," Glamour interrupted. He let the various lights under his control fade into the sunlight, though he kept the headphones on. "Are you here with a message, or just to scold me?" "Both, actually," the soldier replied dryly. "You wouldn't answer your mobile, so I had to fetch you manually. You're not hard to find, fortunately." "Get to the point, soldier." "There's been an assault," the man said grimly. "Quicksilver's gang attacked an outpost. There were casualties--Vondra wants Epics on the scene to make sure no finishing assaults are possible. The details are on your phone, which you need to check more often." Glamour nodded irritably. "Sure thing, mom. You scurry on off and play your vanilla games. I'll handle the job." The soldier grunted and departed, shooting the Epic a parting glare as he did so. Glamour pulled out his mobile and checked his instructions. Right, he was supposed to fetch Emma and head on to the outpost. Easy. He wasn't far from Vondra's headquarters, so he made his way there and sat down on a park bench right outside. "I'm hooked on a feeling I'm high on believing That you're in love with me..." About two songs later, Edgerunner came into view, striding up from the city's alleyways and heading in a straight line to the headquarters entrance. Edgerunner was a good-looking woman in her own way, but Glamour generally didn't notice that side of her. He found it much more entertaining to poke fun at how short and thin she was. Today she had some kind of slash in the sleeve of her hoodie, showing just a flash of smooth white skin where blood should have been. Edgerunner was a quick healer. Glamour waited till she was close--and until his current song was finished--and called out to her. "Heya Edgey. Don't know if you got the memo yet--outpost Zeta's been hit. We've gotta check it out." With that, he yawned and turned on his next song. She could figure out the rest--he'd just trail behind her like usual, doing whatever she asked. Provided she didn't make him stop the music, of course. Backtrack had never been shot before. He was quickly coming to realize that it was really sparking unpleasant and it was hurting so much and why oh why had he followed that stupid necromancer... He clutched his arm with a gasp, followed by a shriek of pain. He nearly fell completely out of his chair as he squeezed the injured limb, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes as the bullet wound burned. "Slontze! I didn't do anything!" At least, that's what he tried to yell. He suspected the actual sentence came out more like "AAAAAAAAH" or something like that. Oh sparks, he kept thinking, over and over and over. I'm going to die. I'm going to bleed to death on Reader's stupid carpet and then Koschei the sparking Deathless is going to heal me and I'll have to work for him. And it's going to be awful because this whole sparking state is awful and I don't want to be in Oregon any more... The train of thought terminated abruptly when he noticed MV standing beside him. He tried to smile and pretend he hadn't been shot, like cool guys from movies did, but it all came out as a strangled whine with a matching grimace. "Stop being such a baby," MV snapped, glaring harshly. She took his arm gingerly and looked it over. "This is not because I like you." A cool and dreamy breeze seemed to wash over the injured arm, and a piece of bullet fragment came whizzing out of the wound. It hurt, of course, like a rusty butcher knife coated in lemon juice. Backtrack bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, whining slightly. His eyes shut closed, filling with tears; when they opened, MV was still giving that slightly disgusted, disdainful look of hers. "That should hold it for now. Try not to get shot anymore, kay?" "Kay," he mumbled. He watched her go back to her seat with admiration. She saved my life. Probably, at least. That looked like a pretty serious wound. Reader did not seem to have much admiration in his heart. A furious expression went over his face, his skin turning almost as red as his wine. "My boss does not care one sparking bit what happens to any of you," Reader said savagely. "As for the desk...I wish you good luck in trying it on your way out. Guards, take these two in." The twins were grabbed by the arms and hauled out of the office, their glares now as incredulous as they were infuriated. At any other time, Backtrack would have declared them cute. Right now, he only let out a helpless whimper as they disappeared from the office. He was left alone with Reader, who was staring at him with all the intensity of a bloodthirsty velociraptor. It was funny how he knew precisely what a bloodthirsty velociraptor looked like now. It was just that kind of day. "Now you," Reader said severely, "may be of use to us here in the Dalles. Tell me what you know. And don't lie." His fingers tapped his pistol menacingly. "You know what happens when you lie." For a split second, Backtrack stared at him with his mouth dry. What should he do? What could he do? Clearly he should stall for time. Or refuse to say anything. Do something, anything but give this horrible man what he wanted. Instead, he took a deep breath and launched into the full story. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I came to Oregon 'cuz I was following a guy named Lightwards. Necromancer, like I said. Except he can't really fly and I don't think he's ever called himself 'Green.' I saw him get killed in the past, and then he resurrected, and I thought that was cool, ya know? So I followed him to Portland, Oregon, which is probably the worst place in the entire Fractured States right now..." He rambled on and on. He found himself going on at length about everything he knew about Portland. He talked about Altermind. About CorpseMaker. About Lightwards himself. About Doctor Funtimes. About Nighthound. About everything. Pausing only to breathe, tears welling up around his eyes again, he told the story of this long, terrible, awful, completely abominable, utter whirlwind of a day he was having. His tongue kept flapping, giving Reader every last detail. If the universe had spared even the tiniest milligram of luck for Steve Lawrence today, maybe that would be enough.

* is reading about other people eating salads and browsing on their phones *

* is writing combined Backtrack/Glamour post *

"TERRIBLE THINGS. TERRIBLE THINGS HAPPENED IN THERE, BECAUSE READER'S A SLONTZE AND OREGON IS SPARKING AWFUL." --Backtrack Yeah, that sounds about right. So to get this straight--the twins are getting escorted out now, so they'll meet Autumn first; and Backtrack will follow once Reader's extracted the rest of the information from him?

Ooh! Autumn Glass can be the secondary evaluation expert. Reader uses his powers to make sure prisoners aren't overly dangerous, and Glass uses her power of "basic human compassion" to make sure decent folk don't get executed on Reader's vote alone.

I'm currently writing a Backtrack post--he's trying to negotiate, in his whiny and indignant way.

You know I'm always in favor of a good Nighthound death scenario, but with the number of people Nighthound's wronged, I personally feel that a very karmic death scene at the hands of Ray or Voidgaze would be best. It would be kind of a let-down for someone he's never met before to take him out. Yes. Yes it is.

Backtrack: Ooooh the pain! I'm dying and it's sooo tragic... Remington: You know, now I want a turn to shoot him in the arm. Backtrack: Oooh nobody cares about my suffering! I'm having the most tragic day in all history... Remington: Yep, definitely shooting him. Sam: I call first shot. Nathan: You know, I'm actually starting to get behind this. They probably don't lock Epics up so much as they surround them with armed men and shoot them until dead. The twins could probably escape, but they'd be escaping execution rather than a prison cell.

"OW MY ARM IT HURTs IT HURTS I'M GOING TO DIE." --Backtrack, shortly after meeting Reader.

Granted, but your mortal enemy is permitted to define the word "yummy." I wish for world peace, because I am a wonderful person.

I keep trying to play this game, but I run into difficulties. For instance, does Nightblood count as a companion or a sword?

Whoops. The central palace has been demolished.

I think I can bring good ol' SH in today.

I have a vivid mental image of CorpseMaker standing before a crowd, with Quota causing the entire gathering to fall to their knees weeping hysterically. And now I'm going to have nightmares.

Later... Lightwards stood at the outskirts of the city, grinning maniacally with an army of zombies and dinosaurs marching behind him. "Soon," he proclaimed grandly. "Soon The Dalles shall go up in flames, and my glorious Empire shall grow over this land! Soon--" He cut off abruptly, staring at the entrance to the city. Standing there was the most grotesque statue he had ever witnessed--which was rather a big deal for the employer of Chicago Joe. "What's wrong?" Nighthound asked, walking beside the Emperor with a smile of his own. "Is there a problem, Lightwards?" Lightwards gulped. "It's just... standing there. Her face on his body. They're... judging me." He shook himself. "Nope, I can't do it. Let's head for Tillamook, fellas."

I picture Sam following behind the rest of Team Funacid entering the city, grumbling to herself. "I have a tragic backstory too. But do I get a giant statue? No, all I get are the angsty scenes and blackmail sequences..." I'd say to have Reader go next. There's... not a lot for Backtrack to do at the moment. His POV would simply be too pathetic to be worth the effort.

So... that's a no for building a giant Remington statue in the city center? Clearly Quota has formed a nefarious alliance with the Knighthawk Foundry.

I'm terrified. But Big Al's terrified most of all...

Ooh, I second that! He'll be all like, "Verily, this Museum shall verily be the center of my very excellent Empire..." * sigh * Fine, have it your way.