TwiLyghtSansSparkles

Posted! I found songs for Remington and Nathan. Remington's was easy. Watch You Crawl by Red Nathan's was a little harder, but I finally found one that captures his mixture of despair and hope. In Like a Lion (Always Winter) by Relient K Funtimes doesn't have so much a song as a character moment: Welcome to Cloudcuckooland!

Had Nathan not watched her soak Lightwards in gasoline and smile as she held a lighter, he might have never believed her capable. That Funtimes was so different, so far removed from the one who reached the museum she may as well have been another Epic entirely. The moment they set foot on the tiled floor, she released his hand and skipped down the rubble-strewn hall. She paused in the first doorway, one hand on either side of the doorjamb, leaning back with a smile on her lips and her hair tumbling behind. "Okay, everybody go into every room and find all the pictures you can." "Tourists don't come here anymore, Doc," Remington said. Funtimes giggled. "The dinosaur pictures, silly! With all the plants and stuff." Nathan connected the two almost immediately. "You're going to make this place into a jungle," he said with a smile. "Clever." And it was. Epics didn't take kindly to threats, but they did enjoy gifts. Good gifts, that is. Handing them a piece to a puzzle or a key to power had the same effect as handing a petulant toddler a favored toy. It didn't always please them, but it usually calmed them to the point of nonviolence. Of course, there was another benefit to Funtimes' generosity: positive reinforcement. The jungle would remind Lightwards of her magnanimous side, the side that tapped her toe bashfully against the floor while handing him a hideous bowler he was sure to love. Having the museum turned to a more ideal landscape for his pets would send a message: Setting you on fire might make me smile, but I'd rather make your lizard friends happy. And when your friends are happy, you're happy, right? "Come on, let's get to it." He motioned the others toward the remaining rooms. Remington adjusted the strap holding his empty rifle to his back. The other two—one a blonde girl in black with purple lipstick, the other a slim, brown-haired woman in a flowing green skirt and crocheted blouse—shrugged and followed, the blonde with a pinched expression and the brunette with a smile. The unicyclist pedaled ahead of them all, following Funtimes closest. She picks the weirdest servants, Nathan mused. Not that stealing a lowly server rather than watch his death with the most powerful precog in the city was normal Epic behavior. The first room had been filled with rubble and blood and a partially chewed Epic, but those were gone now. The blood had become moss, still covering the wall in the same splatter; the rubble a stone cave. The corpse was now some tree species Nathan couldn't name, presumably one long since extinct. A trail of grass led through the far door and into the next hall, around a corner and out of sight. "The Calamity's she going?" Remington asked. "Starting from the back, I guess." Nathan hoped there was no man-sized Venus flytrap in any of those pictures. No need to give her ideas. "Just….look around. Anywhere you think pictures would be." "You ever been to a museum?" "Probably doesn't have the time," the black-clad girl said, moving into the next room. "Taking over Portland and stuff doesn't give a lot of free time." His influence spreads, Nathan thought with a mixture of amusement and panic—amusement because the thought was amusing; panic because Epics didn't tolerate backtalk. "Shut up and look." "Oh, he's an eloquent one," the hippie sang. "Soul of a poet." So brave. Nathan wanted to smile. So stupid. He wanted to scream. He was saved from both by a crash from the entry hall, followed by a familiar voice. “Now my dear, if they are around, you might meet the rest of our… colorful group or, if you are lucky, they are gone and we can have some alone time.” There was a buzzing, whooshing noise, followed by an amused chuckle. “Please, I can understand your excitement but you should wait until we know that we are alone before you start with the foreplay.” "Who is that, dear?" the hippie asked, thumbing through a pamphlet. Nathan stifled a sigh. "That is Nighthound. And don't call me 'dear.'" "Of course not, darling." He strode forward and plucked the pamphlet from her hand, speaking in an angry whisper. "Don't talk to him like that, all right? I may be new at this, but he's not. Just shut up and mind your manners." ​She smiled and lifted another pamphlet, humming as she did.

I think it's me. Give me a minute.

Of course not. I have standards, you know.

Or, if Lightwards survives, "What Happened in Washington, DC." Most of the Founding Fathers are buried in their home states, true, but DC isn't too terribly far from Virginia…. How would resurrecting George Washington and Thomas Jefferson help him conquer the world? I'm really not sure. But it would be entertaining, especially if—oh, I don't know—something were to ​happen to his powers during this game that somehow allowed long-dead zombies to regain control of their mental faculties within a few minutes of revival…. I just want to see Lightwards slapped by a Founder, okay?

Hearts and hugs! This RP is pretty awesome. I don't think I've ever participated in or run one as much fun as this.

Here are a few minor Epic ideas I came up with (originally posted in the Epics of Oregon thread but moved here): Supermarket: Can pull any item she needs at the moment out of her purse; limited to one item at a time up to the size of a rifle (so no monster trucks) Alpha: Can communicate with dogs; she prefers big dogs like Rottweilers but small dogs like Chihuahuas prefer her Big Metal Fan: Can "command" pieces of metal to assemble into a giant metal fan; also a big fan of metal music Conquistador del Bano: Control over small to moderate amounts of water; prefers restrooms as an easy source; has the maturity of a sixth-grader

Epics Deceased Epics Backstory Epics Human Characters

Just wondering how long until Funtimes and Nathan would be realistically heading back to Tillamook.

Up to you. I wrote it so he could either head back or get left behind, whichever you think would be more fun. Speaking of plans, how long until it's night in-game?

Up to you. It won't be a nasty surprise, I'll tell you that much. And don't worry about Remington. I have plans for him, and they do not involve him mouthing off to the wrong person and dying young.

"You get to recruit minor Epics for us." This was promising. More promising than the raid on the armory. More promising than finally doing away with Layla. Recruitment meant a chance to find Epics less powerful than himself, a chance to show off. "I'm listening," Scorch said. -------------------------------- Nathan watched Claudius soar over the rooftops, his path clear. "What do you think he sees?" he asked Funtimes. "Dunno." She shrugged, then gasped. "We should go back to the museum!" "Why?" She giggled. "I wanna surprise him." ------------------------------- Remington's father had been fond of telling a story. It was a small story, a memory left over from his Army days. And like all Army stories, it began with four simple words: "So there I was…" "So there I was." Remington could hear his father's voice as he launched into the same family favorite at yet another holiday gathering. He smiled as he set his beer on the table and wiped his lips. "Still in boot camp, still learning the ropes. Wanted to impress everybody, of course, so when I started running miles, I was smart about it. Other guys, they'd sprint the first few hundred yards and tire themselves out, but me? I'd done that before. Stupid move. No, I'd pace myself. Set a speed at the beginning and stick to it. Wasn't about getting there first; just getting to the end. "Well, one day early on, I started running, same as always—and I realized there was a pebble in my boot. Didn't feel like a big one, so I didn't think much of it. "I'd already started running, and you know Army boots. Not easy to put on and even worse to get off. I was already off to the races, and I wasn't about to pull over just to dig one stupid pebble out of my boot. Just a pebble, I told myself. I could shrug it off. "By the end of the first mile, that pebble was really starting to bug me. Still not worth stopping for, I thought. Then I hit the second mile. That's when it started to hurt. But I kept on going. I had five miles to run, and one pebble wasn't going to stop me." His father took another swig of beer with his disbelieving laugh. "Well, it did. Mile three, and I was limping. Had to pull over, untie my boot, rip it off—and there it was. Stupid little thing. Felt like Mt. Rushmore when it was in my boot, but it wasn't even the size of a marble. Shouldn't have caused me that much trouble, but my foot was bleeding. Had to finish boot camp with a bleeding foot." After the story came the moral. "And then it hit me: That's what I could be. I wasn't a big man. Just a hunter from Oregon. Just one guy. But if I found a tyrant, and he was the right tyrant, and I kept at it long enough, I could be that pebble. I could be a pebble in his boot." As Lightwards shoved him against the wall, Remington recalled that story. For as long as the Epics had been around, he had recalled that story. He had told and retold it to himself a thousand times and more, until the details were as worn as an old hunting vest. And like that vest, he had slipped it on each morning with a promise that he would live out the moral of the tale. For eight years, Remington had been a pebble without a boot. More than once he had been crunched underfoot, and sent an Epic running for softer ground. He had shot, insulted, threatened and cursed at any Epic who dared look twice at him, and most of the time, they had decided he wasn't worth the trouble. A few had. But they were gone now. Taken his family with them, but they were gone. But now things had changed. The Empire of Light had chosen Portland as its home. Lightwards had declared himself Emperor, and Doctor Funtimes was his mistress. He would spend his days around two of Oregon's most powerful Epics, waiting on them hand and foot—or performing whatever ridiculous tasks Doctor Funtimes had in store for him. An Epic who made it rain pancakes before bursting into tears would not be satisfied with making him do her laundry and cook her meals. The pebble had found a boot. Remington picked himself up and dusted himself off. He shouldered his rifle once again, and smiled to himself. Doctor Funtimes and Traveler were coming around the bend. Purple Phoenix—Protector—whoever he was—couldn't be far behind. "Everybody hold hands!" she said as she skipped over to him and the others. "We're going to make the museum amazing!" That sounded promising, but Remington would give her plan the benefit of the doubt. It could involve the world's biggest chocolate chip cookie, or it could involve the world's largest bear trap. Or both. An Epic who giggled one moment and threatened immolation the next was capable of nearly anything. Remington clasped hands with another servant, a teenage girl clad in black with purple lipstick, and Traveler. His mind was still on the Epic who had lifted him by the collar and promised a new era. I'll be your pebble, Remington promised as the street vanished. I'll make you sorry you ever started running.

That sucks. Sorry, Joe.

Whichever one(s) you think fit Scorch's personality. I'm not a huge Transformers fan.

None from me.

Stop the hate. Enjoy pan-waffles.

Teaming up with Remington, Nathan or both would be interesting. And for a secondary character, I am in full support of Alice. She has a great deal of potential both for development and for adding some twists. The only problem I can see there is that Funtimes just teleports straight there without leaving a trail. Alice could catch Remington alone and ask where Nathan goes each night--as a hunter/survivalist, Remington would know the Oregon forests well and perhaps be able to figure out where he was by a combination of memory and landmarks. Failing that, he could always ask Nathan, who should start forming a plan of his own after I introduce Funtimes' weakness.

As I wrote it, I thought, "I can actually see this working." How soon can we get Alice to Tillamook? That's the best place I can see for a private meeting.

I'll take that as a yes. Not quite shipping yet, but I think there's room for love to grow on this assassination vacation.

Hmmmmm......I have the sudden urge to ship Alice/Remington, but I'm not sure how Kobold would feel about that.....

Battle of the Buses: like Battle of the Bands, but with buses.

Messin' with Sasquatch: One Hunter's Quest to Prove all Epics would Lose against the Northwest's Hide-and-Seek Champion

He's seen Bigfoot. He fears nothing.

Remington Springfield is a pony now.

Nathan had met Epics with split personalities before. Usually they came in opposing or complementary power pairs—one controlled fire and the other ice, or one could increase an object's gravity and the other decrease it. He had never met one with Protector's level of self-awareness. Then again, neither Purple Phoenix nor Protector was an actual Epic. He was still considering the chance that Protector might be lying when he presented a small metal disk as a sort of deflector shield, able to ward off anything metal traveling at high speeds—arrows, bullets, and the like. Funtimes took it and turned it over and over, gingerly brushing the wire and tapping the disk with a sparkling fingernail. "If he's going to pretend to be an Epic he needs to be able to look invincible on his own every now and then." He gave a pointed glance toward the street. "We'd better get back to the others soon or they'll start to get suspicious, hopefully they'll just think we're allying in case they attack, should make them a bit more wary. If you need to talk to me again just ask Phoenix, he's a good sort for the most part, just a bit taken away with the role he plays. Anyway, I can hear what he hears so just ask for me and I'll try to get back. Stay safe." With that, he collapsed. Funtimes tucked the disk into an interior pocket of Nathan's vest that he was sure hadn't existed until she made it so. When she grinned at him, he expected some remark about how pretty the disk was, or how Protector was a weirdie weirdface. ​"Don't let any of those stupidfaces see it," she whispered, then giggled. "I'll figure out the frequency for the power thingy when we're alone." "Frequency? How did you—?" She giggled again, still standing on tiptoe. "Keep it a surprise, okay?" He could only stare. She thinks Calamity is the Flying Spaghetti Monster and knows a specialized power pack probably runs on a specific frequency. What is with this woman? Funtimes tugged the corners of his mouth up. "Smile!" He pasted one on. With another giggle, she skipped over to where Protector—or was it Phoenix now?—had collapsed. "Wakey wakey!"