Aonar

Following a road, most likely either Frostfire's convoy, (which I just realized really need to get back to, seeing how I'm thinking of putting Mirrorveil in there) the Pandarmy, Memori/Current Event/Planeshift, or Frequency's gang. Or any combination of the above. I don't know the area at all though, so even this is just a guess, based on which scenes are located on roads leading into the Dalles. Does anyone mind if Frostfire goes next in the clinic? There's no way under Calamity's red light he'd let Reader tell his side of the story first.

I just realized that if the answer to #26 of the FUNTIMES list is yes, then this off-the-cuff backstory scene for Mirrorveil (and Shiasurprise): Could become canon.

After a bit of research, it seems like the condition tends not to present itself until mid-late childhood, somewhere around six to nine. So they'd likely be in their late teens somewhere, if I want their status as an Epic to be ambiguous. ...Eh, I'm not sure about putting Mirrorveil in the same area as Iconoclast. They would literally go insane within days. He wouldn't even have to use his power on them, and Mirrorveil would effectively become one of his ghouls.

At this point, I'm not sure. I think it might be interesting if the character isn't sure either. They've got this ability, this power, that they've had for as long as they can remember* and no one else they've ever met has described anything similar (the condition is very rare, <2% of the population has it, and still fewer would experience it to the degree this character would) so they probably couldn't help but wonder. However, they won't experience the corruption (unless they're reflecting it from another Epic) and Epics with powers that can distinguish between Epics and vanillas will always read them as a vanilla. *A question for someone more knowledgeable than I, how long has it been since Calamity rose, in RP? Edit: Yeah, that's true. I get the feeling they'd die to fast anywhere else though, unless I hold them off until a new area starts up. I could see however it being something accidental. First meeting with one of the Epics that are part of the city guard during the current conflict, (or perhaps meeting Frequency/one of the other more evil Epics in the Dalles) and making an assumption, then getting caught from there, never quite certain whether they should drop the lie or not.

I'm not sure. Probably the Dalles, just because they'd be liable to die/go insane really fast in Astoria. Which means a meeting with Reader could totally be possible.

Okay, cool. I'm hoping they'll be fun to write. I know. I've still got a few of my own I'd like to mess around with a little, though. (As soon as I can think up actual characters for them, rather than just powersets.) That's definitely a good reason. And a scary one, at the same time. Thanks guys. Without further ado, then:

He's dead in the current SE game, and he's been around a fair bit, so if someone shoots him a PM and he doesn't have writer's block, he should be able to do something, I'd think. On a similar note, with my being dead in the current SE game as well, and Snoopy only able to post erratically (if at all), I'm kind of looking for something to do. So does anyone mind if I add a couple more characters into the RP? I'm not sure who to add, or where to add them, but in the mean time, I have a question to ask. Has anyone included a character who is a vanilla that pretends (of their own free will ) to be an Epic? Someone with an amazing, but completely natural ability, who fakes being an Epic for status, or influence, or safety? I think it would be a really cool character to write, as soon as I can work out specifics. I might have an idea, but I'd like to see what other people think of the general concept, first.

Night had fallen. Or a least whatever passed for night in this place. Things had quieted, and few still moved through the streets. The man, Ank as he apparently called himself, had fallen asleep, Finn deciding to curl up beside his feet. It was strange. The ruined city, despite all the deaths and terrible things that had happened, appeared peaceful. Naran looked up at the sky through a hole in the wall, wondering. Why? What was the point of this? Throwing a bunch of random people together, forcing them to kill or be killed? Who was doing this? From what he'd seen, many of the others were treating this like a game. Like they didn't care whether they lived or died, didn't care who or how many they killed. The stars in the sky seemed to mock his confusion, cold, bright, unfamiliar and uncaring. A sudden thought struck him like a hammer blow. What if it isn't random? Can you really say that you're so different from the others? Even Ank, as nice as he seems, was clearly a soldier, at some point. We were chosen. Picked from nameless millions as the ones most likely to fight to the death. A shiver ran down his spine. Who could know? And how? Naran had buried his past ages ago, locking it up the best way he knew how. Something thudded into the wooden wall above his head, interrupting his musings. It glinted faintly in the moonlight, round and metallic. Naran recognized it from Scadrial. A boxing. Rust. Pushing himself away from the wall, he turned towards the door and shrugged on his coat. Aora raised her head from where she'd been sleeping by the door, looking at him warily. Just where do you think you're going? Her gaze seemed to ask. "Don't worry," Naran said, carefully opening the battered door. "I'll be back in a minute." In a flash, the dog was up, sticking her head into the door before he could close it. He sighed. "Fine." Aora pushed her way through the door before Naran could change his mind, running out into the street, sniffing at the ground. Calling her back, he set off in the direction the coin had come from. The narrow, cracked streets wound and twisted as he walked onward, drawing ever further from safety. Aora stopped suddenly, teeth bared, growling just slightly. Naran couldn't see a thing, but he trusted the dog to have noticed something he didn't. "I know you're here. Show yourself, Metalborn." A figure crashed to the street in front of him, cloak tassels whipping through the air. "Observant. Most have difficulty seeing me, when I do not wish to be seen." "I've dealt with enough of your kind to know your tricks." Naran couldn't see much of the Mistborn's face underneath his hood, but he appeared to smile wryly. "I'd imagine you have. The second son of an out of favour house, a murderer, twice disgraced and believed dead. It's a wonder you weren't killed quietly by a coinshot years ago." "I don't like what you're implying." It had been years since Naran had been anywhere near Luthadel, but bad blood could last decades among Scadrian Nobility. "I imply nothing. You should simply know that where I come from, there are many who would like confirmation of your death. More still, if it's made known that you serve a Skaa." Anger flared through him. Whoever this man was, he had no right to dig at Naran's past like this. "I serve no one, Metalborn." The Mistborn stepped forwards, grabbing Naran's wrist to keep him from moving away. Aora growled unhappily, but knew better than to attack the Allomancer. "Then prove it. Reject your master's Commands, and join us in this grand game. You'll have to kill that man you've helped, of course. We can't be consorting with the enemy, after all." Naran yanked his hand free. One of his sleeves slid back, revealing a complex pattern of red ink on his forarm. The Mistborn raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. Pulling the sleeve back into place, he spoke. "I'll think about it." The Allomancer dropped a coin. "Do not think long, Aonar. If the Soldier is not dead by morning, we will assume you have refused." He took off, into the night. Rubbing his wrist, Naran turned away. “Come on, Aora. We should be getting back.” The wolfhound followed faithfully at his heel, but she was clearly unhappy about what had happened. The trip back seemed to take far less time than the trip there. Opening the door quietly, Naran and Aora slipped inside. Ank still slept against the wall, the same place he’d been when Naran left. Finn however had moved, sitting in front of the door, apparently waiting intently for their return. The massive shepherd licked frantically at Naran’s hands, happy to see them back. Naran paused, ignoring the dog for a moment. There was a pair of obsidian knives in his belt. Ank was sleeping. It would be easy. Incredibly easy. Four steps, one cut, and several of his problems would be solved. He put a hand on one of his knives, and took a step forwards. Ank’s shown no malice towards you. If anything, he’s been friendly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d killed someone who’d called him friend. Knife drawn, Naran took another step. It’s been years, Aonar. You’ve changed. You’ve lost your edge. If that’s true, then killing Ank will be the perfect way to get back into the swing of things. Another step closer; Naran crouched, knife at the ready. Nothing came. Finn and Aora looked over at him, worried. He took the last step; crouched over Ank’s sleeping form. Do you know what makes you different from the others? Naran paused, knife inches from Ank’s throat. You weren’t before. You aren’t really now. You chose to change. You chose to become better. You chose to forget your past. His hand shook, struggling to hold the knife steady. Nothing is different except for the choice you made. Don’t go back on it now. Adjusting his grip on the knife, Naran turned and rammed it into its sheath with a click, as Ank slept on, oblivious. No vote, today.

Sorry Maill. I won't work with someone who's pulling things like this. Threatening and bullying people into submission, while it may be effective, is not the right way to go about things.

It had taken a lot of time, but eventually, Naran had found an intact building. It was nothing special, and in nothing like good repair, but it would do. He let his dogs run, playing and chasing each other around the outside. The sight brought a sad smile to his face. It would be nice to be able to forget, to be able to enjoy things, rather than worry. But of course, that could not be. For all it had been quiet so far, it wouldn't stay that way. People would be dying before long, and Naran didn't intend to be one of them. Sighing, he walked inside, and made for the kitchen. Food was the top priority right now. Pantry? Two steps closer, and he turned away, disgusted. Whatever had been in there, it had long since gone bad. Cellar? A set of stairs in the corner seemed to lead downwards. Might as well give it a try. It was incredibly dark in the basement. Fumbling around, his fingers caught a switch, and electric lights flared to life, blinding him. Naran blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Sweet. We've got power. Hopefully that means we'll have preserved food, too. A few cupboards and a freezer stood towards the back. Opening them up, he found shelves full of vacuum packed and preserved food, and bottles of water. There were more than a few packs of various meats and frozen vegetables, too. Heck yes. Naran returned to the surface, new-found bounty in hand. Calling to his dogs, he threw them each a hunks of frozen meat. They settled at his feet, happily chewing away. He sat back against the wall, gnawing at a piece of beef jerky and absentmindedly rubbing Finn between the ears. For a moment, they ate in silence, content. Then footsteps came thudding down the street. Aora's head snapped up, no longer interested in her food. A man came around the corner. Older, with a weather-beaten look, and the casual awareness of someone who'd spent long years fighting. Finn's ears perked up, his tail thumping the ground furiously, and he gazed at Naran expectantly. "No, not yet, Finn. Don't get too close. We don't know if we can trust him." His ears went back down, the very picture of canine sadness. Naran looked to Aora, questioning. The wolfhound seemed almost to shrug. 'It's up to you,' she appeared to say. Well, he doesn't look to have any weapons on him... "Ah, fine. Go ahead." Finn bolted forwards, nearly bowling the man over, trying to lick his face. Aora almost seemed to roll her eyes in disgust. The man halfheartedly fended off the dog, initial fear turning into a smile. Naran shook his head. He'd never been quite sure how, but Finn had always been able to do that to people. He called out to the man, who had finally managed to settle Finn down. "Come have a seat. There's plenty of food here, if you'd like some." Sorry for any liberties I took with your character, Clanky. I figure I might as well vote for Jain because why not.

Obviously, their name would be Gilgamesh. And they would eventually overcome their weakness by, after losing their best friend, and having their only chance at gaining a PI stolen with Regalia's death, finally accepting their own mortality and the fact that sometimes, seeking adventure for adventure's sake isn't the best course. (Sorry. I've been doing classical epics and heroes in English, and the comparison was too good to pass up.)

Yeah, that's pretty well the only possible reaction to that video. I fully support Shiasurprise's reign of terror. How can I not, having helped come up with the idea? Winter: Shia LaBeouf is an actor who played the main character of the new Transformers movies. And apparently a cannibalistic serial killer. And an Epic.

Are you sure about that?

Naran had slipped off the moment the city had materialized around him, hounds following at his heels. He had heard the sourceless voice speaking, but he didn't care. Apparently he was here to put on a show. Well, whoever the watchers were, they certainly weren't getting one from him. Really, he just wanted to be home. At the very least, whatever strange force had brought him here had brought his dogs too, and whatever small comfort they could give. Naran needed to find a place he could rest, a place to fortify, a place to make his own. Somewhere where he could take care of his dogs, and hopefully get out of this mess alive. Walking through the ruined buildings, he started to feel a little dismayed. What exactly had he been dumped into? A fight to the death? Who in their right mind picked random people, with lives and friends and families, and forced them to kill each other? And who in their right mind would actually comply with that? He shook his head, wondering at the sheer idiocy of it all. Finn gave a quiet bark, nudging Naran's hand with his nose, obviously sensing his master's distress. "Shh. It's alright." He absentmindedly rubbed the massive shepherd's head. Despite his imposing size, he'd always been the sensitive one, at ease with people, quick to comfort those he saw in need. Naran turned back for a moment, ensuring that Aora was still following. The wolfhound trailed a few yards behind, stalking warily through the streets, ears up and head down, alert for the slightest disturbance. She was the quiet one, the dangerous one. A protector, a fighter, a hunter; lean and wiry. Kind and gentle enough with Naran and Finn, or course, but not afraid of a fight. She was definitely the one to rely on in situations like this. He turned back, smiling slightly. Things were going to be alright. They'd find a way. Who knew, maybe if they could camp out somewhere far enough out of the way, they could avoid the conflict entirely. Something to note: If any of you dare lay a hand on my dogs in RP (this includes you, Almighty GM), other, perhaps, than to take them in if Naran dies, it will be my personal mission to rend you limb from limb make you feel like the biggest slontze to ever walk this Earth. I'm not certain if this is a great idea, or a terrible one. What're you talking about? This is now officially a great idea. That's hurtful, Wilson. What'd I ever do to you?EDIT: Added Quote.

Naran is signing up. He's a bit of a recluse, preferring the company of his dogs to that of other people. (If I know I'm liable to go severely inactive half way through, why not give my character a half decent justification? )

Frostfire and Azrael posts are up, finally. (Although they're both a little short.) I would consider trying to bargain for some weaknesses, but unfortunately, I don't think I have much to trade.

Reader began to stir when a voice drew Frostfire’s attention. "Hot diggety dog! You keeled him! That was my pet Hershey!” He spun, readying himself in case this new Epic was dangerous. His affected accent and melodrama suggested more on attempt at humour than a threat, but you could never tell with an Epic. “Just jokin'." Dressed in pink aviators and green flip-flops, he certainly looked anything but a threat. "So what's up?" Confused and annoyed, Frostfire was about to respond when Reader interrupted. "I will tell you everything that you want to know, Ethan. Just take me back into the city and take me where I direct you, and I'll tell you everything." Good. He’s obviously learned at least a little humility. “I’ve been looking forwards to seeing some of the Dalles. It’s a deal, then, Goldilocks. Lets avoid the massive army of pandas this time though. I'd prefer not to spend too much more time waiting around.” Turing back towards the newcomer, he spoke again. “Sorry about my companion’s rudeness. He’s not in the best mood right now. My name is Frostfire, or Ethan. And this is…” Frostfire stood for a moment, thinking, one hand gesturing towards the telepath. “Well, I don’t actually know his name, but I call him Goldilocks, and that works well enough for me.” Ethan stretched out his hand to shake. “We’re heading to the Dalles. Assuming you don’t plan on destroying anything, do you want to come with?” When dealing with unknown Epics, it was usually best to be courteous. You never knew exactly what they could do.

Azrael watched the limousine pull to a stop, as the people in the outlying buildings began to gather. After a moment, chaos broke out. Fire flared up, flying in all directions, and then went out. Sparks. Stepping off the tower, he let himself freefall for a moment before his wings snapped open. He glided across the ground, travelling fast enough that he should have blacked out from the forces involved. Approaching the scene, he reoriented himself towards the earth and let his wings dissolve. Azrael crashed to the ground, bending his knees only slightly to absorb the impact. Another man, most likely an Epic, had approached the limousine as everyone else fled. He looked a little surprised at Azrael’s sudden arrival. “I’m sure you’re very important, but I have to deal with something. You can have these two slontzes when I’m done.” A wall of shadow leapt into existence, separating the man from the conversation. Nightshade and Midnight stood before him, looking very smug, and not surprised in the slightest to see him. Azrael was fuming. This was not the plan. “What the Calamity is this, Nightshade? You were supposed to be subtle. Not drive a sparking limo into the centre of their base! You’re lucky Overwatch himself hasn’t been alerted yet. You’re not immortal. You have to remember that.” Azrael turned, taking a closer look at his surroundings. “And what is this?” He asked, pointing out the dead Epic’s broken body. “We’re here to rally support, not kill needlessly.” Shaking his head, he wondered why he still bothered to put up with these people. He spoke again, keeping them from getting a word in edgewise. “You’ve already garnered far more attention than you should have. Now, we not only have to take the tower before Overwatch is informed of our presence - probably a lost cause at this point - but we have to deal with this slontze too. You’d better hope your persuasive powers work on Epics that don’t know you for the slontze you are.” The wall of shadow dissolved, and Azrael turned back towards the new Epic. “Have at it.”

They might be able to negotiate a deal. Alan incoming.

Their ultimate goal? They want to rule Astoria, and use it as a place from which to restore order to Oregon, and then the Fractured States. That's what Azrael tells himself, anyways. (Several of his servants/lieutenants have distinctly different agendas, but Azrael is scary enough that they follow him, for now. ) Their short term goal is to kick Overwatch from the Astoria Column, amalgamating as many of the members of his gang into their own group as possible. From there, Azrael will ingrain himself, learn about the political climate, build up his army/allies, and eventually take control of the city. Of course, that's not going to go anywhere near as smoothly as 'Rael thinks, with all the High Epics running around, but he'll give it a fair shot. Depending on how Vis reacts to the League, do you want to be added in to the planning doc/PM Alan?

I will not vote. I wish to move to the Lounge.

Of course, if you named him Cinder though, you'd have to give him invulnerability, and make him a Nighthound-level slontze.