Aonar

Another, very... different, angel has entered the Oregon RP. The first Azrael post is up, and the (apparently somewhat grouchy) herald of Armageddon has decided to start his conquest in Astoria. Edit: Ninja'd. Thanks though.

The view was breathtaking, in a way. As Azrael alighted on the tower, and the city spread out before him, the strange, almost alien majesty of the various diamond structures became apparent. The unusual colour of the sky only added to the effect, making the city look as if it were made from aquamarine. He crouched, allowing his wings to dissolve into fine threads of shadow. Despite the obvious signs of habitation from various Epics, the city appeared relatively peaceful. It would be a good place to start. A place to rest, to gather his strength before the cleansing. The Fractured States would have order, and Azrael would be the one to bring it. Azrael took a moment to contemplate the structure upon which he stood. A tower, some forty metres tall, covered in a thick layer of translucent diamond. It was a little gaudy for his tastes, but it would do for now, once he had a chance to make a few adjustments. The first, of course, would be to convince the miscreants inside to join him. Or kill them. Either would suit his purposes, although converting them would be better. Straightening, he turned and looked away from the city, searching. Where are they? If they find being carried too demeaning, then they should sparking well be punctual. Azrael’s lieutenants were unfortunately disorganized, even though they’d come a long way from the rag-tag band of minor Epics he’d found a few months ago. His eyes caught a flash of light from below. Good. That’ll be Eclipse. Hopefully Twilight and DarkQuake too. Concentrating, tried to project his thoughts through his shadow. It was something he was still unused to. Hurry it up, Nightshade. I’m getting bored up here. A crack echoed from below. Azrael staggered, the bullet catching him in the side of the head. He felt no pain, his wound healing almost as it was made. After recovering his balance, he stepped backwards, fading into his shadow. He appeared an instant later, standing at the base of the tower. Where? The barrel of a rifle stuck out just slightly above one of the nearby buildings. There. Darkness coiled around his legs he readied himself, then sprang forwards, leaping up to roof. The guard that had shot him stood terrified, frozen by shock. A single tendril of shadow formed in Azrael’s hand before lashing out, as fast as thought. It took the man in the neck, opening a red line across his throat. Dissolving and reforming his clothing to clean it of blood, he turned back towards the tower. Azrael’s wings slowly molded themselves from the shadow beneath his cloak, and with a single powerful flap, sent him aloft. As he gained height, he spotted something small, and unnaturally black moving down the road towards the tower. Is that-? Sparks. Azrael shook his head, stepping back on to the roof of the column. A limo. Nightshade copied a sparking limousine. It was hard to tell from this distance, but somehow Azrael had the feeling that the Epic had chosen the most ostentatious thing he could find. That man has no idea what the word “subtle” means, does he?

Gah. I've been meaning to get around to this, but I keep forgetting. Hmm... Gamma's already stolen social anxiety disorder... Why don't I just go for sociopathy? Adrian Fox is signing up. RP may or may not be to come, depending on how much time I have.

Well, unless Mobius decides to have a moon-party, I doubt he'll ever get into a position where he could shadow-clone the earth. The moon, maybe. Good question though. I somehow think letting him shadow-clone celestial bodies is a bad idea though, so maybe limit him to medium-sized buildings? He can't control inanimate objects after he copies them, so that shouldn't be too OP'ed. What would his limit be on complexity? If he could copy a plane, would it function? That might affect where his upper bound should be.

I'm not sure the universe could handle that much awesome. (Harry's weakness is obviously death threats against his friends, and Dumbledore's is probably overly-convoluted plots. ) And thus, What Happened in England was born. Alright. So I'm expecting the column to be coated in diamond with a few minor additions? And some more ramshackle buildings scattered around nearby, to give the Epics in the area more places to work from? I wouldn't mind being given a rough idea how fortified it is. If Azrael wants to kick off his empire, he needs a good base of operations. Four-five minions should be plenty, especially when their powers are going to naturally support each other.

A little off topic, but this just happened while discussing a Kingkiller Elimination game: (Don't ask how we got so far off topic. ) So yeah. Harry Potter/Steelheart crossover fics are now a thing. Stay tuned. Anyways, a couple quick questions for various people, in preparation for RPing as Azrael: Edge: Has Lucentia done anything with the Astoria Column? 'Rael's first instinct is going to be to look for a good vantage point, and that seems like a good spot. Voidus (and anyone else who has/wants to have any say in the various members of the LoS): Which shadow Epics can 'Rael steal for underlings in Astoria?

I still don’t understand how they did it. Somehow, they locked the moment of my death in time. I suppose having the power of a god helped with that. I could go back as much as I liked, redoing the same 34 years over and over again. But when the time came, I was always faced by the same choice. Go back, or continue, into the unknown. I suddenly found myself constrained in a way I never had been before. I have my regrets, things I’ll never be able to do, simply because I’ll never have the time. But I’ve done as much as I can, I think. The metalmind packaged with this book contains the key to my story. It is not a hero’s tale, and I am not proud of it, but it is a record of my attempts to right what I so carelessly wronged. If you’re willing to forgive me, and wish to know the truth, remember: There’s always another secret. ~Aonar ---------------------------- Nilan Izenry closed the book, sinking back into his armchair. It all seemed too strange to be true. His Ruin-cursed father, who’d left without a word near twenty years ago, a warrior? A hero? A man who had walked through time, fought gods, and steered nations? It was too fanciful to even comprehend. Add to that the fact that the metalmind his father referred to was nowhere to be found, and Nilan wasn’t sure what to believe. In some ways however, it made a lot of sense. His father had never been around much, and after his disappearance, Nilan’s mother had been… strange. She had seemed to know that he was never coming back from the moment he left, but she had never been angry. She had never resented him for leaving them. Nilan ran his fingers over the cover of the book one last time. It had taken him a longer to finish than he’d expected, but in the end, it appeared an empty hope. A little flake of gold drifted lazily through the air. Nilan’s eyes narrowed. What? He grabbed a letter-opener and carefully prodded at the gold ornamentation on the book’s cover. More flakes fell. Underneath the layer of gilding, the metal took on the bright orange of copper. Despite himself, he could feel his excitement building. Placing a finger on the exposed strip of copper, he tapped the memories contained within. Broken flashes of sensation followed, sights, smells, sounds. Nilan wasn’t quite sure what he was remembering. Eventually, the memories coalesced. A darkened corner of the Izenry mansion came into view. A few bricks were missing from the wall. A terrible sadness accompanied the image, like nothing Nilan had ever felt before. Tapping steel, Nilan bolted for the basement. Finding the wall in question, he tapped pewter and kicked through it. Hesitant now, he stepped through into the secret room. It was filled with row upon row of selves, carefully labelled with dates and names and numbers. Each shelf was filled with little copper cubes. To the left, there was a note on one of the shelves. It read: Start here. Thank you, Nilan. And so Aonar Izenry, second of his name, passed away, once and for all. Good luck going forward, guys. Merry lynching!

Part one of a collaborative RP between me, and Snoopy. Have you ever wondered why I left, Nilan? I didn't want to. But war had come, and I was inexorably linked to its outcome. You see, I had something. Something very powerful, that many would, and have, killed for. A Shard of Deity itself, like Ruin, or Preservation in the old stories. With it, I could turn the tide. -------------------- This cube was one of the last. Out of the Shadows. It was written in a clearer hand than the others, as if the author has finally been sure of what he was writing. ---------------------- "We know what we need to win this war. It is time to act, my friends." The other Shards slowly nodded their agreement. With a thought, Aonar warped himself away. Luthadel's narrow streets faded into view. He set off at a fast walk, racing the setting sun. Someone would be dead by nightfall, and if he could help it, it wasn't going to be an innocent. The great doors of Lord Hobbes' keep opened as he approached. Clearly, they'd been expecting him. Good. Guards inclined their heads as he passed, entering the great hall. Aonar's footfalls echoed in the empty room. As he approached the far end, voices raised in heated conversation could be heard. He slipped through a door on his left, one hand reaching for his Sterrions. It was a small meeting room, sparsely furnished compared to the ballroom, and crowded with various woldhoppers. A few noticed when he entered; Maw, Ash, Leif, and of course, Lord Hobbes himself. The others were still focused on their conversation. "It doesn't make any sense! They couldn't have known that Martin witnessed Mek's death." How wrong you are... Aonar gestured almost imperceptibly towards the discussion, questioning. Hobbes shrugged. Apparently now was as good a time as any. "Actually, they could have, quite easily. In fact, we might as well have told them ourselves." Hobbes clapped a hand to his mouth in a clearly exaggerated gesture. "Oh please, Aonar. You always come to my Keep with these ridiculous and outlandish...shenanigans of yours! Go be an ominous crow elsewhere," Hobbes huffed. "Honestly!" Aonar glared at Hobbes and snapped, "By the Lord Ruler! Drop your pathetic nobleman act, Hoid. Now is not the time for your so-called 'delightful badinage'! Just...shut your caketrap and listen!" "I'm afraid, Aonar, that it can only be shut with cake," Hobbes mused, "But please, do continue..." Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, Aonar turned towards the worldhoppers, many of whom had been startled by the sudden interruption. “Thank you, Hoid. You see, my fellow Sharders, a lot has been happening, while we’ve been trying to figure things out. One of the most important of which will be culminating, oh, right about now.” As he spoke, he drew one of his Sterrions, and gestured lazily towards the gathered Sharders. “One of you is a liar, and a very good one. But not quite good enough.” Aonar’s words were met by looks of mixed confusion and anger. Ash spoke up. “What are you rusting talking about, Aonar?” “I’m talking about the little things. Inconsistencies, falsehoods, manipulations. People who have been holding back when they should be leading the charge.” His whole demeanor changed as he turned, focusing on one worldhopper in particular. "I'm talking about you, Maw." Aonar cocked the Sterrion, and leveled it towards the traitor. "Care to explain to those not in the loop, Hoid?"

Frostfire; exploding the heads of pandas since [whatever year it is in the Dalles]. Why not Conquest? It fits with the whole Four Horsmen theme, and works with his nature/personality, as you've described. (ie., arrogant, superior, lazy.)

This actually helps a lot. So what Frostfire is doing is manipulating the end products of forces, without affecting the forces themselves. So in theory, he could generate extreme amounts of energy, with time and difficulty (by physically adding kinetic energy to something, whilst draining that energy and adding more energy+the energy drained ad nauseam) but it'd always scale linearly, and (sort-of) comply with thermodynamics, as he cannot actually change the forces involved. That makes sense. Anyways, everything's all nice and internally consistent again.

...And once again, my lack of understanding of the actual physical world betrays itself. I'm not sure exactly how all that works, the difference between force and energy and all (aren't they just different expressions of the same thing?), but I'll take your word for it. Ah well. To re-writing I go!

Yeah... I didn't really think that one through. That would make his ability to shift kinetic energy way too strong. Although as things stand, the feedback loop is self-limiting. due to slippage. (He can only transfer so much energy safely, remember.) He's also going have a lot of difficulty applying this ability in combat situations, most of the time. (Anything breaks his concentration, and he's screwed.) Rather than change a ton, should I retcon in a injury/have him favour his left in the next post? Making solid objects shatter isn't going to leave him a lot of left over heat, as he's instantly pouring the heat he drained back in to it, to get that rapid expansion/contraction that tears it apart. (Maybe I should clarify that in-RP?) I'll can edit him distributing the heat from that into the end of the RP/mention it in the next one, if you like. (Also, what is people's stance on him being able to reapply his gravitational potential energy? That's something I've been wondering. It wouldn't make him a ton more powerful, but it would let him do a lot more things, that maybe he shouldn't be able to do.)

But then Reader would never get to mock Autumn and Shiny Sparkle! He needs to stay alive at least long enough for this to happen. Assuming my understanding of physics is correct, (and it may well not be) wouldn't there be an exponential increase over time? ie. At t=1 F-(-F) =2F, at t=2, 2F-(-2F)=4F, at t=3 4F-(-4F)=8F.... etc., as the strength of the force he's applying is dependent upon the force he's applying? He hasn't absorbed a whole ton, (just enough to maybe give Reader mild frostbite) but yeah, he'll probably dump some off pretty soon.

Thanks. Although if you want more scenes like that, that means people need to keep ticking off Frostfire... which could be a very, very bad thing for the people of the Dalles. (And everyone else who happens to be nearby.)

Not much in detail, but I'm thinking the more the League stays together, the better chance they'll have of actually surviving in Astoria, even with Azrael's protection. Frostfire post is up. Hopefully Reader's finally learned a little humility. (Mostly because I really don't know how I'm going to keep Reader alive through this if he hasn't. )

Goldilocks leaned in towards Ethan and whispered harshly, "Hailey." He stepped back again. "Kirsten. Vanessa. Go ahead. Kill me. Let's see if you can do it." The telapath paused for a second as Ethan's face contorted with rage. "You're a coward, Ethan Mitchell. You could never kill me." The man chuckled ruefully. "Besides, let's see how the leader of The Dalles reacts to my death. I don't think he'd be very pleased, how about you?" Frostfire was moving before he could even fully process what the telepath said; one hand wrapping around his throat and shoving him up against the wall of a nearby building. Frost crackled underneath his fingers, burning against the telepath’s skin. “I don’t think you understand, Goldilocks,” Frostfire began. “You see, you’re not in a position to be making insults.” He increased the pressure against the telepath’s trachea in illustration his point. Goldilocks batted weakly at Frostfire’s arm, struggling to breathe. “I am a High Epic, and mock me as you wish, but I am not someone to be trifled with by one such as you.” The telepath’s skin turned deathly pale. Frostfire could sense something moving through the camp nearby, but he ignored it, for now. “The choices I make are my own however. You are still more useful alive then dead. But if you ever forget, if you ever again assume that I will not end your miserable, meaningless existence, I will kill you.” Whatever was moving through the camp was almost upon them. A large, heavy object arced towards his head. The wooden club connected, then stopped dead, warping and shattering as it underwent several violent shifts in temperature. Frostfire dropped Goldilocks and backhanded him across the face, sending him sprawling on the ground. He heard a satisfying crunch as the telepath’s nose broke. “Excuse me for a moment, please.” Frostfire turned toward the disturbance. It was another beast, although not a panda, this time. Standing several feet tall, it looked like an incredibly muscular man with the head and legs of a bull. The minotaur was looking down at its now-empty hands confusedly. Obviously not the brightest animal in the barn. "What the Calamity do you think you're doing? Can't you see we're trying to have a sparking conversation, here?" It glanced up, beady eyes filled with anger. The beast swung its fist clumsily at Frostfire. He stepped inside its swing, and nonchalantly placed his hand on the creature's chest. Ice spread through the minotaur's fur, bones cracking and popping as they froze. Focusing for a moment, he forced the gathered heat back into the minotaur's body. Smoke billowed as his hand carved a hole through it's chest. The minotaur remained standing for a moment, held up by Frostfire’s arm. He extricated himself carefully, allowing the wreck of its body to fall to the ground. His right arm was covered in char and gore up to the elbow. With a thought, it froze, and then shattered, leaving Frostfire perfectly clean again. Frostfire turned back towards the telepath's prostrate form, grass smoking slightly under his feet. “Now,” he said, brushing a few flecks of ash from his shirt, “let us return to the original subject of our conversation. What can you tell me about the Dalles? Its structure, its organization, its current status, your role and the role of other Epics there?”

Azrael would be more than happy to have some underlings. They're the one thing every delusional Destroying Angel needs! (And being part of the League would definitely make for some good backstory, before the whole Destroying Angel shtick.) He sounds terrifying, Voidus. If you're taking a couple, Snoopy, do you mind if they're in Astoria?

Gah. Sorry about that. I'll go back and spoiler that, just in case someone else hasn't read it.

Wow. There's a lot of new people showing up. I've got an Epic I might run for Astoria. If the main qualification for Astoria is OPness, then he fits quite well. In other news, a new Frostfire post should be up soon-ish. I warned you that insulting Frostfire wouldn't go over well, mail-mi. Also, this is the icon I'm thinking of using for Frostfire:

Memory. Memories always remained. Static, unchanging, they haunted me. Past failures, future concerns. Death, destruction, mayhem, a hundred thousand lifetimes worth, all contained within my mind. It wasn’t long before I realized that it was driving me insane. Copper became my panacea. I filled the metal with the stories of my life, locking them away, and hiding from the pain. --------------------- This cube was different. The copper was etched with multiple words, scratched out and redone, as if the author hadn’t been quite sure what to say. The clearest inscription read: The Beginning of the End Aonar threw the newest letter into the fire. They’d become increasingly urgent, but Aonar couldn’t help, not yet. He knew what would happen if he did, and he still had things to do yet. And first on the list was to call in a favour… --------------- It had taken a long time for Aonar to track him down. It had been almost six years since they’d last met, and he was unfortunately good at hiding. Aonar watched the man step into a narrow alley on the other side of the street. Too easy. He quickened his step and followed. “Hello, TrelVin.” As the kandra started at being recognized so easily, Aonar tapped zinc, pewter and steel, and forced the creature up against the wall of the alley. TrelVin struggled, but his Blessing was no match for Feruchemical pewter. The kandra sighed in resignation. “Would you be willing to let me go?” “You’re not going to run?” Aonar asked, raising his eyebrows. TrelVin thought for a moment. “Touché. What do you want, Aonar?” “You still owe me a favour, I believe.” “A favour? I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’d remember that.” “You and your buddies crushed my skull because you didn’t want me interfering in your work. I could have come back, revealed you to the Set. I didn’t. You owe me.” The kandra looked nervous. “That? That was years ago. I’m surprised you still remember. Best not to bring it up again. Water under the bridge, and all.” Aonar pulled back his sleeve and waved one of his copper bracers in front of the kandra’s face. “I remember everything, TrelVin. Now, you’re going to deliver something for me.” He pulled a notebook from his bag. “This needs to go to my son, when he’s ready for it.” He stepped back from the kandra, and started to walk away. “Hey! One problem, Aonar. Last I checked, you didn’t have a son.” Aonar turned back and grinned at the kandra’s confusion. “Time traveler, remember?” ------------------------------ Alright, people. Not much has happened so far, and the days half over. I know lots of people are working behind-the-scenes, trying to catch Eliminators, (I've gotten far too caught up in this already) but nothing really substitutes honest discussion in the Thread. My usual analysis has suffered this game, (I've got a heavier course-load in school than I was expecting) but let's see what we can do. What do we know? Sart (a smart guy) was pretty quiet in thread. -- Death does not tell us a ton, but dose remove an active player. Disliked the plan proposed on D1. -- Only way this could play in is if they wished to cast suspicion on me, or others who agreed with the plan. (Or if they wished to discredit the plan.) While this seems logical, it tells us unfortunately little. Part of Yolen PM. -- I myself can't inference much from this. Was there anything said in the Yolen PM that could have made Sart appear an attractive target? Hmm... Swalji, you haven't said anything for a bit, if I remember correctly, and you were a part of the Yolen PM. Any opinions? Sorry, but that's all from me for now, folks. It's way to late here for me to be constructively analyzing things.

...Okay, maybe out-slontze is the wrong word. The post is a little short, but I think we all need to see how Reader reacts.

"I know everything, Ethan Mitchell of many failed relationships. It's sad; that Hailey girl was a hot one." The Epic paused to let it sink in, shaking his head slightly. "What do you wish to learn?" Ethan stood a moment, stunned. …Hailey? How the Calamity does this slontze know about her? Frostfire clenched his fists, shadow curling around his fingers. He wanted to tear the Epic apart where he stood, freeze him solid and shatter him into more pieces than Frostfire could count. Breathe, Ethan. The thought came out of nowhere, a little island of rationality in the turbulence of his mind. He’s probably just a telepath. A telepath who's trying to screw with you, at that. If he knows too much, kill him, but otherwise he’s more valuable alive and talking. He took a moment to breathe deeply and calm himself down. “Alright. Ground rules: You mention Hailey again, and I end your existence, in the most painful way possible. Is that good with you, telepath?" He took a moment to take in the scene around him, and the three dead pandas on the ground. “Or,” Frostfire added, a slight grin on his face, “Do you prefer Goldilocks?”

Snoopy: Well, Endowment knows who every single Shard is. That narrows things down to eight people, each of whom have different, easily provable roles. Worst comes to worst, we chose one of the more unlikely/inactive Shards and roleblock them at random, forcing Odium to either not make a kill, or clear them for us. The Investee not being publicly known would be tricky. Ruin would basically have to blindly trust someone, and hope. Of course, if things don't work out like they're supposed to, we'll have pegged a Champion, at least. Clanky: -Already pointed out in the plan. It's a gamble, and the longer we go without hitting Odium, the worse off we are. -Odium's Invested Champion can't attack Shards, and after the Cycle immediately following the one where we get a lockdown on Ruin, they won't be able to attack, period. -In this scenario, Ruin wouldn't be killing. He'd just be giving his Investiture. Edit: Good catch, Snoopy. However, I still think the rewards outweigh the risks here, assuming things go to plan.