old man moomba

Doc flipped through a faded notebook filled with impossible designs. He had drawn them back in high school. It seemed like such a long time ago, now. His head had been filled with dreams. Dreams for a better world, one with far less conflict. Scattered among the designs were scrawlings outlining a 'better' system of rule. Annotating the faded pencil drawings were small blocks of text explaining exactly why each design wouldn't work. Those were fresher, less faded, but the color and medium used to write them varied wildly. Doc had written them while homeless, using whatever he could find. Pens, pencils, markers, and even crayons. "I'm convinced that doing this, proving my past self wrong, kept me in a sane state of mind. The work, it kept some of that hopelessness away. Until I met you, of course." Yes, I remember. You thought me a figment of your imagination. "Yes. You argued with me for days about that." Doc smiled, remembering those few... weeks? months? before he'd sworn the First Ideal. "We had to bumble through it. I had no clue what I supposed to do, and you couldn't tell me. You got quite agitated." Well, you were being unreasonable. the Stormfather rumbled, stubborn as ever. "Well, now I feel like I'm in the dark. I barely know what our enemy is capable of, and my Knights have enough problems on their own, without evil death creatures trying to wipe them out. I can't protect them forever, you know." James. You don't need to protect them. You must trust that they can protect themselves. You're no Windrunner. You must guide them to the right path, and trust that they can face the dangers. "I'm not sure I can do that." I belive that you can. And I think you do as well. Doc had been absently flipping through the notebook during the conversation. He paused on a drawing of a suit of gleaming power armor, fingers resting on the old paper. "Very well." He breathed out, searching for the Words. They came to him easily, and he spoke them. "I will guide others to the best path, and trust they can face the dangers along it." The many gemstones in his workshop suddenly exploded with Light, pulled from another Realm. Doc breathed in, and it flowed into him. "Now for the real test." he muttered, "Can I summon Plate." Probably. Doc reached out to the Sormfather and pulled something through their bond. He exhaled, releasing the something. Light flashed around his body, and, plate by plate, slate gray armor burned into existence. He mentally commanded the helm to disappear, and it poofed away. Then his chair collapsed under him. "Storm it. This'll take some getting used to." Doc grumbled.

Rydin began to chuckle. "The fact that yet another 'elemental' magic user has joined our little party simply proves that it's overly common in the real world as it is in fiction." he sighed, "I feel like this overlap will leave us with a serious advantage in a fight or a serious disadvantage. I'm still unsure."

Quinn took a drag on his cigarette. "So it was a hired hit." he nodded, "I can respect that. It's at leat more classy than mugging random people at gunpoint. I could wax on about the different classes of criminal, but the..." he struggled to think of an adective to discribe Wita, "girl is peeking in the dead man's pockets and I want his wallet." He stepped over to the dead guy. "Anything good?" he asked Wita, only half joking.

"Mmhmm." Jamie responded, "I mean, how do you even kill one of them." she gestured to Dapper. Dapper noticed her gesturing and grimaced. "It's... hard to do." he finally said, "I've had to do it several times to others Dappers that were causing trouble. A character couldn't do it, even one as powerful as a god. Only one of us could do it. Or... a weapon of some sort, imbued with some kind of power similar to what we wield." Fear was taking notes. "Well, that narrows our list of suspects quite a bit doesn't it?" ~~~ "Yeah." Dapper said, "Now get out. Same for the rest of you as well. I'll bring back who I want." Every character besides Dwig imploded into nothingness. Dapper gave a sigh of contentment and summoned Rydin the Stand user, Killien the Stoneward, Jamie the Twinborn, Ciera the warrior, and Fearson the detective. "The skeleton crew for our little mystery." Dapper commented.

Rydin sighed heavily and looked around. He felt a tugging in his gut, pulling him towards the lake. He knew that feeling. Stand users were nearby. "Ah, wonderful. My allies are already here. Probably."

Meanwhile I'm doing triangle congruency and shape constructions in my spare time because I'm bored.

Yes. It's Maths Humor, which is le most epic style.

Good. xkcd is better.

yes.

Am I allowed to rant upon how much I don't like that game? It bothers me. Like, Mat, you're a funnie man. That game, isn't funnie. It's just stupid.

SepLar yawned and lazily turned around. "Wow. Would you look at that. It's been quite a day, you know." she stared the woman directly in the eyes and turned her skin transparent, revealing her metal skull and the armorlings lodged within her flesh. "As for why I'm following them, the female is a Sliver. Seems mighty intresting, wouldn't you say? Nice key, by the way."

Doc rubbed his eyes and hung up the phone. His lawyer had said since most of those involved were minors, or acting in self defense, they would get off easy. No jail time. Doc could deal with fines and tracking equipment all day if none of his Knights ended up in jail. He sighed, and his phone began to, yet again, ring loudly. It was Cassie. He picked up. "Hey Cass," he said in a tired voice, "They let you out, or are you calling from the station?"

Quinn simply winked at the thug and rolled up his sleeve. Tattooed on the inside of his forearm was a four-leaf clover. The tattoo was more faded than the various Celtic signs that swirled around it, as Qyuinn had gotten it right after joining up. "Listen, friend, if you kill me or harm me so I'm delayed at all, some very, very powerful people will be angry. And when they ask why I was late, I'll point them in your direction." instead on continuing, Quinn simply paused and shook his head pityingly.

Quinn lit a cigarette calmly and took a drag. The whisps of smoke spun lazily into the sky, mixing with the cool night air. "You know what I hate?" he commented calmly, "The lowset class of criminal. Thkose who rely on violence alone to fufill their often nauseating desires. It makes my skin crawl." he shook his head, taking another drag on the cigarette, "I respect even the most petty pickpockets more than you."

(Regarding the universe thing) What is it Pucci? Why do you want to reset the universe?

Quinn had been lighting a cigarette when her heard the pale man mention 'magic'. He tossed the cigarette on the ground and looked at the man with a new fasination. He could be another kind of Investiture user. Quinn mused, Or he could be insane, or trying to scam me, or... Quinn shook his head, smiling to himself, and continued to listen closely. He heard the girl mention storing and tapping and his stomach dropped. He checked his watch, noting the date and time. His package could wait a few days to be delivered. He had plenty of time to figure out what was really going on here.

"Never seen anyone who looked like that before. Then again, I'm new in town." Quinn smiled at the pale man, "I'll be sure to buy him a drink when I see him."

"Is that so." Quinn said to the new man, who was so pale Quinn swore he could see light coming off of him. "Did you get a good look at the guy?" he asked, rings glinting in the light of a passing car.

Jamie grinned in what she hopped was an unnerving way at the mirrored wall. "I don't know who you think your fooling," she remarked calmly, "I know you're watching me." She was an old hand at these kinds of interviews, and in her experience, mouthing off usually led to a response. She wasn't disappointed. Within a minute, the door opened and an older man stepped in, wearing a uniform. "Jamie Darton." he said flatly, "Current resident of Washington DC, registered owner of several firearms, and now, suspect in a mass shootout. So tell me, was it gang related?" "Depends on your definition of 'gang'. I would say it was closer to a mob war. Execpt for that fact that it's literally nothing like a mob war." "Most of the other... living combatants are underage. Care to explain?" "Well I could, but you wouldn't believe me." Jamie responded, smirking at the man, "I will, however, tell you that every single one of those deaths were in self defence. Those people, they attacked us, tried to kidnap some of our own. I'm not sorry that I had to do what I did, but I wish it hadn't happened like it did." The cop raised an eyebrow, seeming a bit uncertain.

Quinn had gotten about halfway through his club sandwich when the screaming started. He sighed, looked at the bartender quizzicaly, and said, "That sandwich was on the house right?" taking the barkeep's blank look to mean 'no' he barreled onwards, "Alright then. My friend's a regular here, he'll be picking up the tab." Quinn stood up, "Calls himself 'Big'" With that, he turned smoothly and followed the girl who'd screamed outside. Any excuse to escape the music, which drilled into his head, as if a corkscrew had been jammed into his ear. He sighed. No one appreciated good music anymore. His musings on the current state of pop culture continued until he saw the body. "Huh." he remarked, "At least he's still breathing." Quinn addressed the girl, "I'm going to assume this wasn't your handiwork?"