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May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.




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    • N. AMERICA


    • NEW YORK
    • ARMA
    • PHAROS
    • WANT ADS



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Found 51 results

  1. Josef Carroll Boudreaux

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    Hammer’s Firearms Early Afternoon January 22, 2022 Brows rose, the easy way the Cajun was able to give expression without looking like he was always either too cool to care or amused with his own personal sarcasm quaint. The television. What was he watching?? “Goodness,” he mumbled to himself as long strokes polished the newly replaced curved glass on the antique gun case in the store proper. The place was tiny, the storefront tiny. The firearms were not. Antiques, powerful to the core. New, so smooth a wasp’s wings would make the trigger move. Oiled, shiny as a new penny, accurate, and dependable to a fault. Shot ‘em all, adjusted them all himself. It was the only way he’d have it. The roar from the crowd on the television brought a pause, eyebrows now furling at the sight of two idiots battling it out with powers blazing. What the holy hell was this? Bell dinged on the television at the same moment the ping on the door sounded. He nodded in greeting to the man, always making it a habit to greet but never hover, going back to watching whatever the crazy was on television that he’d subjected his intelligence to. Nothing smart he reckoned. Altered, magus and creature alike beating each other to smithereens on public television. The hell?? Well, some dicks needed more fluffin' than others. He finished the case, folding the soft towel before placing it underneath the case, attention still caught on the television that was mounted on the wall in the far corner. The trip south hadn’t taken him that long, seems he missed a bit of new rowdy while he was dodging gators and zombies. The world turned faster and faster. Too fast. “I have money on that guy” the customer commented quietly as he looked in the case through the newly cleaned glass. “Mhm,” the toothpick switched sides smoothly, sleeves of the immaculate button down rolled up as he sat at his work table to keep picking away at the Turbiaux fished out of the mud in NOLA. “Hope it works out for ya. Iffin' not we got payment plans.” The surly smile was particularly to himself, casting a warm glance to catch the guy's eyes glued to the television. Lost him. There goes that sale. Maybe.
  2. Ayli Kuresh

    Sunset Slowdown

    June 14th 2022 Early Evening Sunset Bar The heat was a difficult thing to get used to. The forests of her youth had been far more moderate, the abyss much cooler. She didn’t think she’d ever sweat quite so much as the first summer she was in New York. Not that she really minded sweating. Certainly not like the hume seemed to mind it. The cold on the other hand she found unpleasant. Especially this far north where the winter seemed to drag on at pace as glacial as the temperature. She had come to loathe the winters here. How they forced her indoors for months on end to find comfort. The bulky uncomfortable clothing she piled on to keep the cold at bay when she did venture out. Mostly though she missed the sun. Nights were beautiful, and New York came alive like the light of the stars it hid from view, but nothing was more radiant than when the sun split the sky and painted the horizon with a thousand different strokes of color. She had to remind herself of her love for summer a bit more forcefully than normal today however. It was sweltering out and the bars modest central air system just couldn’t keep up with the heat from outside and warm bodies within. There were decidedly fewer of those than there could have been. The bar was far from empty, but it definitely wasn’t packed either. Even the usually boisterous crowd of Friday night regulars seemed subdued by the heat. Music from the jukebox, the low murmur of conversation and the occasional bit of laughter seemed blend together and drift lazily throughout the place. Ayli was behind the bar trying not to wipe her brow with the back of her hand for what seemed like the millionth time so far tonight. Her hair was even more wild than normal, but she’d managed to wrestle it into something resembling submission in the form of a long tail bound with at least half a dozen hairbands. Her evanescence T was saturated with sweat and clung to her skin showing her figure off even more than it normally did. The bar hid both her denim cut offs and the gun belt she wore over top of them from view. She scowled slightly as she grabbed a rack of cocktail glasses from the washer and flipped it over, stacking them with practiced ease. She was going to have to have a talk with Tony about getting the AC replaced. Heat wave like this?On a Friday night? They should have been packed. Would have been likely, if the place had been cooler. She probably wouldn’t be telling him anything he didn’t already know. He’d managed to keep this place running through both the times of chaos the hume called the resonance. He was probably waiting on something. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it. He’d come to expect her “whining” as he called it. She smiled slightly at the thought, a welcome distraction from the heat. She’d half expected him to show up tonight. It wasn’t uncommon for him to show up and lend a hand on the weekends. Not that it was really needed tonight. She’d already let Ash go for night. They didn’t need another bartender for a crowd this size. Sanity had demanded that they close their kitchen tonight too, so for now it was just her minding the place. She didn’t mind. Even a slow solo shift meant more tips. Not to mention the off chance she’d get to have a little fun playing bouncer to any fool who didn’t know well enough to behave here. She got to do that some weekends more than others, but their was almost always that one idiot who couldn't hold his liquor and did something stupid. Or a natural bastard who just needed to be drunk as an excuse to show what he really was. Didn’t much matter to her which it was, she found intense pleasure in watching their expressions when she kicked them out on their asses. She was grabbing a rag to wipe down the bar when the door opened and the small bell above it let out a merry chime and let in a welcome breeze. “Welcome to Sunset friend.” She said brightly as she turned to greet the newcomer….
  3. Thomas Gallo

    Poison in the Well

    December 12, 2021 New York NPC: "Boss, we got another one." The staff of Thyrsus had grown since the Ice Age, largely due to limited mobility, but then stayed out of necessity. Jimmy, or Steve, or whatever his name was, Tom didn't care. He was one of Strollo's boys who typically helped out with the security work of the 'downstairs operations'. Tom had noticed orders had been down. They slowed down much more than they should have. Rumors began of counterfeits being peddled to Thyrsus's customers. When reaching out to clients, they said that shipments came earlier than expected. Someone had provided their orders to the bottle. The only problem was, it hadn't been Tom. This was a tremendous problem on multiple levels. Someone had access to his purchase orders and was using that to profit...at the expense of the family. When Tom explained to his clients that this so-called discount was indeed false...and that the product that they purchased was bootlegged and terrible...they were upset. When their clientele started dying, they became furious...at Tom. "How could you let this happen?!" "What are you going to do about it?!" "You owe us...big time." Tom was furious. Luckily for those around Tom, the timing couldn't have been better. It had been nearly 2 weeks since the last full moon, and this was the time that its influence over him was minimized. Otherwise, Steve or Jimmy or whatever his name was wouldn't have dared to speak to him with bad news. That was often Roderick's burden. People were dying and their deaths were being laid at Tom's feet because he had failed at controlling distribution. He thought he had that controlled, however it was apparent he did not. There was a gap somewhere, and he intended to sniff it out. Tom looked at Strollo's goon holding a phone. He was good enough at his job, but Tom wouldn't have used him for anything more complicated than breaking fingers or stacking boxes. He'd have to do. Same thing? Tom knew the answer. Of course it was. Swelling of the eyes and tongue until they asphyxiated or pressure on the brain caused them to have a stroke. Every. Single. Time. Jim-Steve nodded as he was becoming accustomed to reading Tom's moods and decided that further speech was likely unwise. Smart. Perhaps he could find a use for him after all. People were dying. Always after leaving a bar or club. Always after drinking something from Tom's 'early deliveries'. Always dying in the same gruesome fashion. The only thing connecting these murders is Tom's booze. Or...a facsimile of it. This would, undoubtedly, lead to a conversation with some sort of law enforcement. He had to find that lead. Every second that ticked by without squashing it quietly was another second given to police/ARMA to come poking around again. Tom opened the front door and stepped outside into the winter air. The cold stabbing right into his bones helped to melt away the mind-fogging frustration and helped him to regain focus. It was about time to see this matter resolved.
  4. Eris London

    Be Careful Where You Wander

    February 15th Late Evening Eris' Compound Being summoned to a meeting in Glamis was positively something she hated. It was dangerous to fly into the North at this time of year, networks had not been completely restructured yet. There were a few places she could land in the event of mechanical failure, but not many that were equipped to help her with what she needed to get the plane back into the air. The meeting was as expected. Demands. Irritating assholes. Arrogance. People that didn't know what the fuck they were talking about. Wants and needs that couldn't necessarily be delivered with the resources she had. Some sort of idiotic threat, crawling through New York. She'd gotten a whiff of it over the last year or so, but it had been quiet lately. Why was Sheut concerned? Because if bad guys gobbled up the magic slingers, they might annoy the Sheut Nation. Humans and their magic. Idiots. Just find a magus to screw and get the fascination out of their system. She couldn't get out of Glamis fast enough. Flight had been quiet, weather somewhat amiable. As the lights of New York came back into view, she couldn't help but really want to be home. Away from those that had no understanding or relatively little fucking clue of what the rest of the world was going through. Their only want was to make sure that their position reigned supreme, and to be assholes; with the exception of her adopted brother. Even he had his moments when she wanted to smack him on the back in the head. If she could reach, that is. Damn moose. The tiny vampire reached forward, clicking several small levers as she adjusted the headset and spoke to her ground crew. "Flash", said quietly the plane turning gracefully in the air. The runway near the coast lit up once, its chasing lights on the ground unseen unless from above. All she needed was the position to land, her eyesight could do the rest. Touchdown would be slightly dicey, winter flights were always a risk. Her crew kept the runway pristine. Always. The elegant Cessna touched down in almost complete darkness, immense power vibrating through the beast as she reversed engines to slow it to a crawl and taxi. "Gold window shields worked great Mouse," words were quiet over the radio. No response, there never was. The techie was always listening though.Turning over the plane to her crew, the petite form stepped down from the cockpit. She fucking hated winter, the black Louboutin mad heel boots she had on effective against the elements, but didn't bring her any closer to Ahanu's height. Black slacks were pristine, black Mackage Kay coat fluttering its fur collar at the bitter wind as she peered out of the hood up at her right hand. The woman's face wasn't pleased. It was never pleased when she had to tell the Viceroy bad news. Toby wasn't with her, which meant something had gone to shit. Her adopted protege kept the dangerous kind at bay. Namely, other vampires. There wasn't a vampire in the city she wasn't aware of, if they crossed her city without making themselves known she stabbed them in the face. They had the choice to reveal themselves, or die. Mostly die. Being infected tended to make baby vampires arrogant and ballsy. They tended to make her stabby and murdery. Heat rolled from above the doors in the hangar, closing as the plane was pulled in. She'd stepped to the side in the first floor office, pouring herself a drink. *npc* Toby is babysitting two rogues. "Fucking kill them already," answer was disinterested. "I just spent way too long listening to bullshit, rogues can go in a ditch." Yes, she'd promised not to do that anymore. It was her discretion. There were more popping up lately than the Executioner had time to deal with. Scratch that. She didn't feel like constantly flying out to shitstorm L.A. to pick him up. They were rogue, they were toast. Ahanu shook her head, the formidable woman pulling her hood down on her coat. The tiny vampire did the same. This was not going to be a good night. Coat slid from her arms and Ahanu took it to hang up. Winter white wool turtleneck sweater was smoothed, hair immaculate, narrowed eyes watching the woman as she picked up her cognac and followed Ahanu to the mechanical room. Toby was babysitting two middle aged wannabe commandos. Malnourished, beat to hell. They'd put up a fight. *npc* They were sniffing around the south fence. The irritated Viceroy reached and pulled Ahanu's sidearm from her leg holster, firing three concussive shots in succession and handed it back to her. Knee, knee, not knee. The asshole hissed at her, a high pitched squeal twisted into the animalistic growl. She put her hand out and Ahanu placed it in her hand again. One in the forehead. She approached the second, gun still in her hand. Swallow of cognac preceded the narrowing of the viper's immaculately lined eyes. "I'm hungry and tired. Open your fucking mouth and talk or I'll chain your ass to the east fence at seven am and burn your skin off. Then we'll bring you in, and do it again the next morning. I don't have time for your bullshit." The story between stammers and obstinate blubbering was one she didn't want to hear. Glamis had given her insight, and now this clusterfuck was in her back yard. Handing the gun back to Ahanu, she finished her drink. "Put him in the hole, call ARMA. I want to meet with someone tomorrow. Whoever is in this shit neck deep, lie if you have to in order to get them here. I'm going to sleep." With that she made her way to the upstairs luxury loft of the hangar. This was snowballing into giant headache. Of course, very few in ARMA knew of her kind, and she was content to just let the magic chasing idiots beat the crap out of each other as long as it didn't rock the stability of her area. Now rogue vamps were jumping into the mix? They needed to be ripped to shreds. That shit didn't happen on her watch. She had to clue in the new guard that there were worse things out there that could rain down hell other than humans fucking around with magic. Namely, her. Whatever "threat" was making factions piss their pants, hadn't locked horns with her yet.
  5. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Chasing Ghosts

    January 3, 2022 Evening The Book of Kells Occult Shop Lips pursed as she blew out the flame on the Nag Champa stick. The scent was her favorite, it always clung to skin like a sensual swath of warmth... bringing her back to center wherever she was. The smoke curled upward, then spun in a tight coil as she placed it into a gold burner. She lifted tea to her lips, eyes still on the smoke that left her bookshop of the arcane always in a lazy and intoxicating haze. Almost the end of a long day, the regulars in the teashop the next room over were deep into books and late day conversations. She, was on her favorite stool behind the main counter, eyes wandering over the Sky Disc on the wall she'd risked her ass... Alistair's as well, to go retrieve. Her addiction to collecting everything dangerous and powerful hadn't abated, but without her 'partner in crime' the task had been much less fun and a lot more dangerous. Magus had the ability to kick ass. She on the other hand, was just... fast. Enhanced her ass. Lately... she was regretting throwing her hat in with Arma. A lot. The entrepreneur dealt everything to anyone, if they couldn't use it safely that was their business. Arma had kept her straight. Gave her a code to honor. That code hadn't been seen in over a year. Long sigh preceded her rise from the stool, taking her empty tea mug with her as the pillar of Hell's Kitchen went to retrieve another cup. She needed to pay Arma a visit. Soon. Time to sever ties.
  6. Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick

    Roll With It

    Slainte 7/8 2021 2:30pm Crazy ass mofo... *npc* Paddy... The woman's voice snapped him out of his grouchy face at the stupid piece of equipment, Blue always snapped him out of his moods... she was like a sister. *npc* You got shit to do. Stop screwing around with the sink. I'll get someone on it. Lips pursed, then smooched her on the cheek. It was quiet always right after the lunch rush; a little bit of a lull before the dinner crowd and all out race to last call. He needed a nap or some shit, still pretty banged up from his last escapade. He sported a shiner, bashed knuckles or a bruised jaw more often than he'd like to admit. Someone getting the drop on him made him pissy. Granted, he dealt with assholes most of the time and it was rare they had a one-up, it still annoyed him. He was alive though, he'd heal. I'll be in my office trying to be responsible. Let me know if anything interesting happens. With that, the quirky Pharos employee made his way up the stairs. Nap maybe. Responsibilities... nap... responsibilities, nap. Aw hell, he'd flip a coin.
  7. Gavin de Luc

    Blasphemy and Sacrilege

    November 8th, 2020. Upper West Side, New York City. 1330hrs. Fucking hell. This was suicidal and stupid, even he knew that. But he did it anyway, because he had become weak. His stockpile of alcohol at the house did not last for nearly as long as he thought it would, which forced him outside in the frigid cold to get more. Smashing the window of the liquor store was probably not the best decision the man had ever made, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? The beer was frozen and had destroyed their containers, and the liquor was already looted before from the other end of the store. He did eventually manage to find some rum stashed away behind the counter that was untouched, but it wasted valuable time that could end up damning him. The soldier had many layers of clothing on, but that only got him so far. A thick parka was his outer layer, which his heavily gloved hands tried desperately to find some small bit of warmth inside. A layer or two in he had a snub nosed revolver and his karambit knives, but they weren’t exactly accessible in his current state. The gloves that covered his hands were too thick for any real dexterity, even if they weren’t completely numb from the cold. He had never bothered to get any of his extremely thick winter coats enchanted, because he never had the occasion to really use them since he had joined ARMA. He always stubbornly wore his leather jacket or something lighter and just wore layers, but very little of his silver thread clothing was actually very warm by itself. It wasn’t like his chances of being shot at today were very high, and if anyone wanted to try and stab him through this many layers of clothing they were welcome to try. The far more immediate threat, of course, was the damned cold. He had assumed it was too far back to his house before some severe frostbite kicked in, and the bike that he tried to steal to expedite the process was frozen to the point of the pedals breaking off when he tried to get moving on the damn thing. That wouldn’t work, so he needed to find something else. He needed to force a way inside of a building, but if he guessed wrong and there was no heating he may just be fucked. He needed something with lights, because if they still had power it meant that they probably had heat. Maybe a store or something, because there might still be blankets left and if he was really lucky maybe a heating unit. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any stores outside of a bike store and a bunch of restaurants nearby… and none of the restaurants seemed to exactly be open. There was another option, the churches, and Gavin would not try that particular option unless he was desperate… and he was just desperate enough to do it. The nearest one was a Jewish synagogue, with big wooden doors and lights that were still on. No doubt there were people inside, and even if there wasn’t they had power and likely some material inside that the soldier could use to get warm again. The single bottle of rum that he downed earlier would hold him over, at least for now, so at least he wasn’t shaking at the present. Boots stomped against the snow coating the ground on the way, and hands desperately trying not to shake from the cold tried the door. Locked, predictably. The windows on the doors were opaque, and had the Cross of David prominently displayed on them. Gavin couldn’t see whether there was light inside of the door, which meant he had an interesting choice. He could break down the door with his powers, but if the heating was not on or able to turned on inside he would just freeze to death slightly slower due to letting all the cold air in. He could also try teleporting inside, but if there was not a connecting shadow that ran underneath that door… He wasn’t exactly sure what would happen, because he had never wanted to change materializing inside of solid material like a door before. The likely result would be instant death, but when the alternative was slow and withering death for the crime of wanting a damned drink it didn’t sound so bad. Since the light outside was still on, this was his best shot at not freezing to death. Steel gray eyes locked on to the door, and the man breathed deeply before letting the shadow over the door take him. If he was going to die, he wouldn’t close his eyes for it. A second later, he was just past the door no worse for wear. It was noticeably warmer inside, and the soldier immediately threw off his thick gloves and started rubbing them together furiously to try and get some feeling back in them. Upper West side was an affluent part of town, of course its infrastructure still worked. Thank God for the small victories. A cold, calculating gaze surveyed the entrance area… but it didn’t seem like anyone was home. After a few minutes, the man lost the parka to have easier access to the revolver in the jacket underneath it. If there was anyone in here, he doubted it was the actual men and women who came to this holy place. In an area like this, all the locals were safely in their homes and away from the danger of the outside. Unless they were goddamn alcoholics with no self-control, that is. Fucking hell. He hoped it didn’t come to that, killing people in a goddamned church. If he had to do it, he would… but despite the awful things he had done to survive in the past, something about even the thought of killing someone in the house of God revolted him. With any luck, he would just be alone with his paranoia and nobody else would show up. What were the chances, anyway? Looking around, with the scattered lights still on… he determined the chances were too damned high and activated both cloak and noise dampening. Pulling out his revolver from the pocket of his second jacket, he held out the firearm in front of him and started moving to search the building, starting with whatever room was directly in front of him. He would not be taken by surprise and killed like this, feeling naked without the protection of his silver thread armor. Trespassing on a church, lightly armed with the stench of alcohol over his body from the residue from the liquor store... no, not like this. Not here. If there was anyone inside of this place, he would know before they ever caught a whiff of him. No regular human, or even most altered, could detect him like this. If they did somehow manage to gain awareness of him, he knew damn well they weren’t human and could react accordingly. He would get them first, before they got him. Killing a monster in the house of God wasn’t sacrilege, was it?
  8. Moses Black

    Day in the Park

    Friday, April 6, 2021 Time : Noon "Man what a day", spoke Moses to himself as he stretched his body out. His long slender arms extended out toward the heavens as his chest shot up toward the sky. The rest of his body leaned back to give him some balance and support his weight. With his head now twelve feet off the ground Moses had a good view of the park. It was calm, peaceful, and filled with warming sun light. Ever since his transformation into a Lamia Moses has always enjoyed the sun light. He was not cold blooded like many snakes, but the warm feeling of the sun on his scales gave him a sense of joy he lacked when he was still a normal man. So many things had changed since he transformed. There were so many things he had lost. "Enough of that', spoke Moses aloud as he cleared the thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. He did that enough all the time. Now as the time to enjoy the park, take in the sun, and feel alive once more. The city was completely different from the south. In his old hometown there were trees everywhere. Compared to New York it was practically a forest. Here in the big apple though, well it was a bleak landscape of concert and yellow taxi cabs, except here. In this one little area the world was renewed. Grass spread all around and tress bloomed like spring. It was Moses one place of sanctity in this city. The one place that felt close to home. Central park, the big green of New York. "Alright lets get some exercise in", he spoke to himself as his body returned to its normal standings position. He then began to slither across the ground at elevated speeds. Viewing the world form this angle was frustrating and weird when he first started, but now, well now it was just another thing. He wondered if it was the same for the other meta-humans who lived in the city. Maybe not the same exact experience. A centaur did not have to look at the world from the ground, or slide on its belly, but the normalcy they had experience had also been shattered. As Moses glided across the grass his mind was filled with various sensations. However the Lamia was simply ignoring them. He did not care that a dog was urinating under a tree, or that the women staring at him from a nearby bench was deadly afraid. He did not care that the businessman walking by was three degrees lower than everyone else, nor did he care that the women in the bathroom was burning up from disease. Today was not they day his sensations would get the better of him, but the day he let the world simply bleed into a uniform grey. it was his day at the park, and the sun was radiating a glorious hue. "I wonder if I can buy a waffle come", spoke Moses to himself as his nose picked up on the smell. His tong flicked out his mouth and confirmed the sensation.
  9. Kai Alexander Morgan


    January 22, 2021 Sidewalk Outside Satyr Stadium, 9:30pm. And there it was. The most stupid fucking thing that could ever exist. Wind whipped its sharp breath once through the street, almost as if it had been reading his mind, rifling the edge of his dark hoodie enough to slip the hood from around his features. Gloves were pulled off, then the Navy beanie as the normally clear kelly green slid from the massive goliath he was looking up at. It was brazen, and arrogant, and apparently unstoppable. Bare fingers rifled through his hair a moment before pulling the skullcap back on and over his ears. He’d barely broken a sweat in the last five miles, cold gelling what little there was almost immediately on the back of his neck. Hood pulled back up, gloves back on, fingers interlocked to reach high above his head in a languid stretch before thoughts returned to continuing his run. Even the layers under his zip-up had done nothing to elicit more of a sweat. He didn’t know why he came… strike that. He knew exactly why. Hiding for so long. Forced to hide for so long. Hunted. His presence a death sentence for the woman he loved that was now out of his reach again if she ever mentioned what he was to those around her. Now, what the world hated and feared was on display for all to see. The blood, the infection… splattered all over the ring like it was a fucking joke. Money passing between hands to see who had the bigger fangs, and cheered in bars like a goddamn super bowl. Lips pursed, tongue running across a canine. Apparently it was okay now to pretend to be powerful and also be infected. He’d needed to put his eyes directly on the pompous monstrosity for it to be real. It blew the door wide open for every single fear the population had about the infected. For the Vanguard to have all the fodder they needed to continue its rabid hatred, for the those that came to him terrified and hunted to have more demons to run from. More suspicions and fear for some, less threat for others to think the whole Were infected community were fluffy toys to be bought and sold in swag stores. The question was, what would he do about it. Kneeling, he adjusted the laces on his right shoe, retying it before dusting off the knee of his black Adidas running pants. This was a fucking nightmare. Few, if any had the eyes he did… every weakness, strength and point of entry locked into his brain before turning them back to the sidewalk to decide which direction he wanted to go. A Colosseum worthy of an empire, a modern day Caesar. Two thousand years ago it took sixty men and twenty three stab wounds to take down a god. He only needed one well-placed bullet.
  10. Raeden (Rae) Seiko

    Bedknobs and Broomsticks....

    December 15, 2020 2pm - still under the ice age of fae fury event White curled from her lips in thick smoke rings as blue lips pursed staring at the crimson spattered snow. Omenwich was known as a haven for Outworlders and it seems the Outworlder violence had found its way here. Thick boots carefully picked over the snow as eyes magnified the ground to ensure she stayed out of the actual crime scene. Satisfied she wasn't intruding on evidence she released the magnification in time to hear the faint scratch at a window. Hazel lifted in time to see the eyes before the curtain fell away in the window. Residents were skittish. Likely as much by her presence as the crime scene she was investigating. Cops were usually the last any magus helped, so like her precinct family, she didn't have the "fortune" of wearing enhanced clothing against the cold. Instead she had done it the old fashioned way, merino wool long underwear wicked the moisture away from her skin and gave her a warm base layer. On top she had loose moleskin pants to trap the heat inside and a wool sweater on top to do the same. Last layer was a military polar parka that came well down on her thighs, fur lined hood snapped up and tied under her chin which was nestled inside a fleece balaclava that went over her head. She was dressed for the arctic. Yet all that didn't stop the crystals of ice from forming on her lashes as she focused on the crime scene. Fingers flexed in the double layer of gloves as she listened to her partners teeth chatter, they were the only crazies out in the weather. Fingers lifted to pull the balaclava back over her mouth and nose before speaking. Lance... back to your car before I have another body out here. NPC:... am fine.....rrrreally... The unconvincing reply came as she watched his lips flush deeper blue. uh huh...... get going. You need about another two layers before you can survive out here for more than fifteen minutes. Go. Her tone made it evident she wasn't playing. Four officers had died in the last month from exposure. New York couldn't afford to lose any more. As he finally gave up and headed back to the vehicle that struggled to keep running as it was, she went back to the crime scene and the blood spattering as high as fifteen feet on the alley walls. Two victims. She was sure of it. But she only had one body. Something told her there was an Outworlder crime first... but that anyone stupid enough to attack in Omenwich had found themselves on the receiving end of revenge. She suspected her first perpetrator was the body she had now.... not the victim. That body was the one that had been dragged away from the tracks in the snow... winged perhaps based on the drag marks? Again she was acutely aware of eyes on her. Seemed she was the center of attention here.
  11. Josef Carroll Boudreaux

    Don't Eat the Dead Ones

    January 2nd 5pm Hammer's Firearms Brow furled, tossing the shard of broken glass onto the floor with all the rest. Nobody could leave anything the hell alone anymore. ‘course, this could even be vindictiveness for disappearing on a dime from the mob, but he doubted it. Hands went to his hips as he surveyed his dusty shop, or what was left of it. He’d pulled all his inventory and left the empty shop with just cabinets and shelves, but even that had been smashed to hell. Who would feel the need to smash an old General Store style display cabinet? Bastards. Hiking boots crunched against glass and debris as his toe scuffed certain places, kneeling down and reaching through the grime, the pull rings still in place and undisturbed. They suddenly snapped up from the floor, the garage door opener type signal he blinked through his brain opening the lock on one. Pulling it upward, the floor storage with all his inventory was intact. Dropping the door back down, he locked it back up and kicked debris back over it. It would take him a couple days to clean, a couple days to stock, then reappear suddenly open like a phoenix. Damn he hoped there was no bad blood. Welcome “home”. Laissez and all that... Upstairs apartment was unscathed. Dusty, but unscathed. Hiker’s backpack tossed on the couch, he rubbed his scruff and started rummaging through the survival pack. Been gone a while, Nola still a giant lake with his angels barely peeking out. A few trinkets he was able to scavenge, but nothing in the grand scheme of things. Made for a melancholy return. Shower. Shave. Food. It’d occurred to him that the place was being watched. It’s not like he could hide the banged up 4x4 that was parked behind the shop by the loading dock. His real home was being house-sat by an adorable newlywed couple and he hadn’t been there yet so not likely a tip-off there. But… he’d been back in town long enough to hear Order bullshit. Same old, same old, with a bit more flair. Water creaked on, and he let it run in the stand alone clawfoot tub. Sputtering, somewhat iron orange for several moments, heating up eventually after he relit the water heater. Clothing was shed and he stepped in, yanking the curtain. Time to return to the land of the living.
  12. February, 1st 23:00 Faye stood behind her desk, the pulsing music from the club only a faint vibration in the floor. A hand slowly ran through her Raven black hair and a long sigh slipped through her lips as she slid papers around on her desk with her other hand. A hulk of a beast stood near the entrance to the office. He stood two heads above the door and his skin had a rock-like appearance. "Mr... Jackson is it?" "It's uh, James Ma'am." "James." Faye's voice took on an annoyed tone within his head. A chair slid behind the man and a force shoved him into it. Eyes burned into his own as she too slid into her own chair and leaned forward arms rested on the surface of the dark wooden desk. "From what Alexei here tells me, for the past several nights you have caused disturbances among the fae guests beneath my roof. As everyone that partakes in the ventures of my club knows, any kind of disturbance is forbidden. This is a haven for human and nonhuman alike. For all species to unwind, and enjoy themselves. Now tell me, Mr. James. What the actual fuck were you thinking disobeying my rules?" "I'm really sorry Mrs. Johnson, I don't know what came over me!" "He lies to you, Faye." Alexei's thick Russian accent broke the man's words as the giant stalked across the floor with heavy footsteps. "I heard from many patrons that this puny man had been talking all night about hurting one of them 'pretty fae bitches' and 'giving them something to remember.'" Faye's face was expressionless as she turned from Alexei to the man that now squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. She rubbed angrily at her temples lowered her hands to reveal a piercing glare at the wrongdoer. A flinch from him as he saw it and tried to jump from the chair but a stone like a hand forced him back down. "Your first mistake was lying to me. I would've found out the truth either way and I would've sent someone to hunt you down. Your second mistake..." Hands placed slowly against the desk and forced her body to rise yet again. "... was openly admitting to wishing to hurt one of my patrons, in my club." A hand rose in the man's direction and after a brief moment a ball of energy launched from her hand and into his chest. Alexei released his grip and allowed James to launch backward and into the glass wall separating him from the forty foot fall to the dance floor. He rolled around on the ground gasping for air while Faye adjusted her blouse and skirt. "Alexei, make sure this scum never steps foot in this club, or any other establishment again." A nod from the stone man and he grabbed the man by the neck and led him out onto the fire escape on the opposite side of the room. Faye opened the opposite door to her office causing the sound of music to drown out the man's screams as he fell. Alexei rejoined her as they made their way down into the club. Heavy techno music blasted the crowd as scantily clad waitresses went about delivering alcohol and illicit drugs to those on the dance floor. Most lights within the club were extinguished. Save for a lit platform on each corner of the dance floor that had a caged dancer atop it, only the glow sticks, bracelets, black-light, and strobe lights from the DJ lit up the interior. Watching the crowd from the stairs to the upper office was like watching the ocean as the patrons bounced and danced to the beat that rocked the club and bled out onto the street. "How are our VIP Alexei, I've had to deal with so many dicks tonight I really don't want to deal with those ones as well." "The VIP are enjoying themselves, I just had Mika check on them and take a bottle of our finest Vodka as well before bringing this last problem to you." "Not every issue can be fixed with Vodka Alexei." "Nonsense, Vodka fixes everything!" Both Faye and Alexei laughed at that and made their way to the bar where Gemma the best fawn bartender in the city sat. The tattooed half woman turned in time to see their approach and smiled. She swiftly poured a large glass of Vodka for Alexei and some fancy concoction of her own making for Fae. "What can I do for ya boss lady? Pretty busy tonight, I've already written down all of the alcohol and other things we'll need for the weekend." Gemma placed a clipboard on the bar and pushed it towards Faye who scooped it up. "Milo said some man's been sneaking around the building trying to find a way in, the mysterious type with his hood up and everything." "Thank you, Gemma, as always you're the best." Faye sipped at her favorite Gemma drink and looked over the clipboard before handing it over to Alexei who stuffed it under his arm. She gestured for the front door and the stone man nodded and moved through the crowd which parted around him. "Stay safe Gemma, you know where the gun is if you need it."
  13. Abernathy Wynn


    Abby sat outside at one of the wrought-iron tables in front of Boheme's Coffee House. Proclaimed as Mid Town's best, Abby couldn't disagree. The service was top notch for college-age employees and they were particularly bubbly despite exams and such coming up. Fall had graced New York, and with that flood memories of the holidays. While mom had found love again, Abby and Margie missed their dad. He'd been a grade A toughass, but loving and protective of his girls. Didn't complain once about having girls, where most men like him would wish for boys. Ghost was stretched flat on his stomach, tail wagging with a plate placed before him by one of the employees. He'd licked his bowl clean of doggy treats and a doggy-frap. A new thing that Ghost had grown extremely fond of. Sated, the beautiful husky yawned and lowered his head on two fairly large paws by Abby's booted feet. The detective was off today, though a badge still hung from the lanyard around her neck since she'd popped by the precinct earlier to review some cold cases. She got booted for coming on when she shouldn't have. Abby working as usual, even on her day off. So, she decided on hanging out with Ghost since Margie was working. She'd gotten much better with handling her situation, and was much happier working her old job. Teaching children had always been a passion of Margie's, and Abby wanted nothing more than to support her. Though, Margie tried to convince Abby to leave the precinct and obtain a much safer job.... Of course, Abby refused the notion. She was too much like her dad. Always wanted to be in the force, and wouldn't change her passion regardless of the world having changed. Amazing, how time flew. Abby had adjusted to the changes, but the memories of normal days still haunted her. The holidays were just around the corner, and thoughts of her family and how whole they'd been drifted in the dark corner of her mind. Ghost lifted his head as if sensing her sadness, and nudged her shin gently with his snout. He wuffled, before resting against her, and she reached down with her free hand to scratch behind his ears. "I'm fine, Ghost." She said, and propped her elbow on the table. She had finished her sandwich, which left a slice of pickle and a few crumbs. Her coffee was half drunk - black this time. Usually, there'd be whip cream and loads of sugar until it was close enough to hot chocolate (why not order a hot chocolate, Abby?) "I'll be fine." She added in a soft murmur, and then looked about, observing the day. Fall had come, with winter fast approaching. She did love the snow. But it was always around this time that the crimes grew more violent.
  14. Site Event

    Grand Opening

    Owner: @Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick This is your hometown bar. The one you are comfortable coming to after work or after a day out on the lake fishing. Six pool tables line the exterior walls. Games are free so long as you're drinking. The walls are decorated with an assortment of hunting heads and old photographs of movie stars. Brick and beams gives it an old pub feel right in the middle of New York. Stools line all the pillars as well as the thirty foot long bar with twenty beers on tap at all times, at least six of which are Irish. This bar is being opened to help ALL players have an easy place to have single and group threads - don't need to wait for "permission" or an invite from the owner to use it. This is an OPEN thread for anyone and everyone to join! Post order not required since multiple conversations, groupings can happen in the same thread here! NPCs - Please do not abuse these NPCs as they will be further developed as staples by Boone to run the bar Behind the Bar: Hagan "Hawk" Monroe - Retired Boxer - Powers TBD Don't fuck with the bartender. Attempting to mess with his shit will get you bounced by him personally - possibly through a window rather than the door. Behind the Bar / Waitress: "Blue" - Powers TBD Like something out of a retro diner she is a sleek painting in the moose head on the wall bar. Like Hawk - messing with her will likely lead to pain... lots of it.
  15. MacKenna Zielinski

    Lost as Alice of Wonderland Fame

    November 2nd, 2020 There was so many people. She knew her eyes were darting everywhere just out of fear, so many people meant she was more hidden but it also meant more danger. She couldn't say which this situation was but she figured 50/50 was a decent ratio. Specially since in Europe it always seemed more 70/30 in favor of her pursuers. She wandered the docks in something of a haze having left Calder behind. She didn't want to risk his life again and besides, this was her job to figure herself out not his. At least there was some hope, she had recognized the skyline of New York after all so maybe there was something here. So far she was batting zero as she walked around the harbor. The voices sounded more familiar than in Europe at least but she wasn't seeing anything that might trigger a bigger memory. There had to be something though she wasn't born a handful of months ago here. She had a few scattered things that had to be real....right? They had to be real. With her skull already hurting from mattered she marched on, a strange woman in clothes to large staring around her like she was a tourist of some kind. More than a few people eyed her but no one bothered her for now. Lost souls wandered through the harbor on an almost daily basis after all. What was one more?
  16. Alec Walker

    Silence, My Brother

    Mon Aug 24, 2020 6:13 PM Blue. A single finger was held up. Johnny Walker Blue Label, already fine whiskey, was still scarce. The distillery had not had time to produce yet another batch since re-opening its doors. In other words, it would be a miracle if this bar happened to have it. Then again, Boone was nothing if not resourceful. The mage glanced around. Any familiar faces? Any faces best forgotten? That would remain to be seen. After all, it was only a little past 6 on a Monday. *Can you believe the balls on this guy? *I know you’re pretty much made of steel, but who the hell tackles a tiger? What? The man looked almost offended. It spilled my beer. Was I supposed to just let that go? Light glinted off the second speaker’s forearm, exposed under the shredded layers of green cloth that had once been a zookeeper’s uniform. Alec shrugged off their presence and turned towards the other side of the bar. Oh come on! What? Was it something I sai… Boring. ARMA was quiet these days. Could there be anything more obnoxious than quiet? He had nothing to do except handle paperwork. Why couldn’t they have some kind of scandal? Where had the false mages gone? And where the hell was that drink?
  17. Abernathy Wynn


    Abby was small compared to most who worked in the force. Short, and easily underestimated. The ordinary beat cops had it worst when it came to gender discrimination; Abby rarely put up with sexist remarks as a detective, and since she specialized in Violent Crimes, not a day passed that something violent wasn't going on. Only this time, she had supernaturals to worry about, not just bad humans. Something was out there attacking and destroying the community that her baby sister was essentially a part of. Just because these people were different didn't mean they weren't innocent. The news hadn't gone quiet about these incidences and Abby had been working hard on trying to figure out who and what were behind these crimes. She couldn't linger on old and simpler times anymore, not with the present being the way it was. Two years ago a huge event had taken place, in which she and a group of extraordinarily gifted individuals had to find survivors within a dangerously collapsing building. In most cases, Homicide and the FBI were on the scene. Abby knew she had to be there, even if the current Chief didn't quite agree. She was as stubborn as they came, a Brooklyn kid through and through. To relieve all the tension that'd been building her back, Abby was spending her late night at the gym, after a day of cracking cold cases. She wished it'd been beer, but her devotion to her job had her hard at work. Margie was worried about how much sleep Abby was getting, but sleep wasn't exactly important to Abby. Too many things were going on, and since she didn't want Ghost to worry either, she had them spend the evening together while she hit the gym. Her tiny fists balled and bandaged up, she started first with shadow boxing in the corner. At this time, it was quiet and Abby was pretty happy to indulge herself. The gym was often packed in the mornings and afternoons, so coming in this late gave her the silence and space she needed without anyone disrupting her. She threw sharp clean jabs, counting 200 for each arms. Her muscles began screaming at her after a hundred since it'd been a while, but she kept going, the sweat forming across her forehead and between her shoulder blades. Abby only wore a black sportsbra, and navy blue spandex that clung to her waist and ended at her ankles. Tiny feet were fit in swift all black Nikes that allowed her quick pivots as she continued her jabs. Dark chestnut hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that swung back and forth with her quick movements, large eyes focused on an invisible opponent. When the 200 finally came along, she added a couple more jabs over and bounced lightly in place from one foot to the other to keep her heart going. Suddenly ceasing activity wasn't good, and while her muscles burned she started shaking out them out before balling them back again. She counted to three - right jab, left, then pivot with the hip for a strong finish with her right. 200 more, and Abby wasn't going to stop until she was utterly exhausted. It didn't matter that she had an early morning tomorrow. She wanted to clear her mind, get rid of that tension, so that she could focus.
  18. Dika pushed past the heavy wooden swinging door and stepped into the well-lit bar; putting out a hand to decline the offer from coat-checker, he was fine keeping his with him. He looked around and thankfully saw an empty stool near the far end of the bar. He headed toward it as he unbuttoned his blazer. He got to the stool, sat on it with a sigh, and laid his blazer in his lap. He looked at everything on the shelf behind the bar as he undid his sleeves and rolled them up past his elbows and began to think about what he wanted to drink. He wondered for a while as the bartender motioned an upheld finger at him, indicating him to wait. Dika was in no hurry so he waved back at the bartender nonchalantly and continued to eye the bottles. He saw a familiar bottle on the shelf; recognizing it's yellow cap and too-big label. He smiled at the thought of a Venezuelan Cuba Libre; he hadn't had one in actual years. The bartender approached him and returned the grin. [npc]Something catch your eye I'm guessing?[/npc] Dika nodded and pointed to the bottle. [dika]"I'm sorry, I don't know the word. The little bottle, the bíter, yes right there. Do you know what I mean when I ask for a Cuba Libre Preperado?"[/dika] The bartender nodded, grabbed the bottle with one hand and a glass with the other and set them both on the bar in front of Dika. [npc]I know what a Cuba Libre is, we call it what it is, rum and coke. You want a fancier one, with bitters and gin.[/npc] The bartender emphasized the word as he tapped on the bottle in front of Dika, then turned to grab the gin. He pointed to the rum closest to them and asked [npc]Light or dark rum?[/npc] Dika shrugged, never really caring for the difference between a Preperado and a Preperado de Oro, so instead he offered [dika]"Whichever you recommend." The bartender nodded, grabbed the dark rum, and came back over to Dika. He began to ask about Dika as he started to mix the drink. [npc]What brings you in tonight bud?[/npc] Dika gave a smile at the question, eyeing the bartender hard. He was cute but young, grinning happily but clearly tired; and worst of all, he was charming but it was his job to be so. Dika decided to keep his charm to himself and slyly said [dika]"Why does any man come into a bar? To have a drink, unwind, and get loose with others doing the same."[/dika] Dika reached for his finished drink just as the bartender added the straw. He picked it up, took a taste at the rim, and grinned. Dika held the glass up to the bartender in thanks, said [dika]"¡Salud!"[/dika] and turned his back to the bar, scanning the crowd for eye candy to ogle over the edge of his great drink.
  19. Pandora Chapel

    Fugitives and Firefights

    -You are a fool Pandora- -I needed a way out Nix... I can't let you dictate my life anymore.- -Regardless of what you want, or need. We required the Order to survive. Now you'll have ARMA and the Light after you. Kudos on effort though.- -Wesley, or Kelly will help me...- -No one will help you Pandora. It's just you, and me. How coincidental that we keep getting put into this situation.- Pandora scoffed as she slid down the sidewalk slowly, dressed in a black long coat. The hood pulled up over her head, hidden wards across it's surface to hide her mana, a jacket beneath that, and light gray skinny jeans that hugged her legs. The sun had finally dipped below the cities towers, making the large statue of an angel overhead a shadow in the sky. Any real threat remained inside her head. -Oh hush now Pandora. We both know who the real enemy is here.- -You?- -It's your destructive personality. So, in a way you.- -I'm sorry, my destructive personality? I thought it was your inability to do the right thing. But fuck me for being wrong.- -Oh my dear, if I could fuck you for being wrong, we'd have a whole litter of Panda babies.- -Don't call me that.- -What, Panda? I thought all of your friends could call you that.- -You are not my friend Nix. You are a parasite, and one that I plan on getting rid of.- -You need me Pandora. Or do you not remember who protects this vessel we share?- -I don't need you anymore, I can take care of myself.- -Adorable, keep telling yourself that.- Instinct took her down a dimly lit alley. Halfway through, a noise shattered the normal ambiance of the city at night. A trash can toppled over with a raucous privy to a machine gun going off in dead silence. Pandora allowed herself a brief glance from the statue overhead and caught the movement of several figures as they pushed through the alley towards her at a brisk pace. -Luck is not on our side today my dear, I'll be resting my eyes for this fight.- Pandora audibly grumbled an insult to Nix's manliness before she kicked over a nearby trash can and ran for the exit, reaching out with her mana to feel for any sort of statue that could assist her. The angel could do some damage, but that was one against several men. She didn't know if they were altered or not. But she could hear at least one of them gaining on her. Her hand slid carefully inside her long coat so her fingers could wrap around the hilt of her newly enchanted short sword, it sucked mana out of her, but that only meant she'd have to fight harder. "Gotcha bitch." She ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding the swing of what she could only assume was a blunt object. Her own weapon unsheathed a second later. A light illuminated the alley as the blade burst into flame. She dipped under the mans arm as he passed her and in one swift motion she severed that same limb from his body. A scream of pain tore through the alley as the man's once standing posture doubled over and he fell to his knees. Pandora in a moment of mercy spun in a quick circle and hacked the mans head from his shoulders, the smell of his long hair burned inside her nose, but a quick kick to his now decapitated torso sent it backwards into a puddle. Her eyes shot up to see the group had picked up speed at the slaughter of their companion. She turned as a ball of flame blew passed her hood and collided with a garbage can causing a slight explosion that sent her off balance for a moment. "Fucking get her! No one betrays the Order and lives." A sharp turn left around the corner met Pandora with a sight she didn't want to see. The alleyway before her shifted as the ground quickly rose to block her escape. "Shit." she spun around, the flame on her sword dimming to conserve mana. The men had all gathered at the corner to the dead end. One of them waving his hands in strange motions as the sound of shifting stones continued to fill the air of the alley. Anger on the largest mans face as he carried the head of the decapitated man. Their leader she was guessing from his position behind the pack, and the rest's inability to move without an order. "You killed my man." The larger man growled and tossed the head at her feet, it's muscles limpness caused it's jaw to fall open and those deadened eyes to stare at her endlessly, "We were gonna make it quick, but the way I see it, we're gonna make you suffer." A tattoo on the mans neck caught her eye. A Gaelic symbol to her surprise, for a hunter. She was guessing it was a an Order thug bred specifically to hunt people down. -Oh my dear, we've really pissed off the wrong people this time. Ajax? Pandora, here I thought I taught you to be more careful.- -I can defend myself now, go away.- -Pandora, you'll need me for this one.- "You think you can handle her Luka?" The leader questioned and shoved one of the men forward, a rather cocky looking man with a large pull on the flow of mana in the area. He slipped glistening brass knuckles onto his fingers and pounded each into his palms as if testing their strength. A magus. -Most likely going to fight unpredictably. He has the looks of a man with no training.- -I see that.- As the thought of what he could do crossed her mind the man blinked forward in a puff of shadows. One moment ten or fifteen feet away, the next he was right in her face. A large shadow covered fist slammed into Pandora's cheek. The hit unnoticeable behind the black cloud that lead it. She doubled back only to have him behind her another punch to the opposite cheek. A crack in her cheekbone notified her of the break, that and the pain. She stumbled the opposite direction. Her body ducked without her control as a final punch flew over her head. A brief moment passed as the flame on her sword blazed back to life and her arm struck out. The man moved to dodge but was too late, as the sword sliced through his neck, leaving him like an old fashioned Pez dispenser. Not even a chance to scream as his head nearly fell from his shoulders, the stench of burnt flesh entered her nose but she paid it no mind. That's how one made mistakes. -Nix... I don't need you- -Apparently... You do.- "Goddamnit, next person to kill her gets the entire bounty." Without thought or a moments hesitation the men launched forward. A slew of elemental abilities flung in her direction, Nix moved her body fluidly away from each projectile. One of the charging men flung his arms to the sides and they shifted into long metallic points. His own body turning into a weapon. "Don't think so." Nix wound the sword back with both hands and flung it forward. The flaming weapon spun hazardously through the air before it embedded itself into the mans chest. his face immediately changed from an angered war cry, to one of pure shock and pain, his momentum alone caused him to slam backwards, which allowed Pandora's boot to drive straight down and into his throat, ending his meager existence. A second and third man flanked both of her sides as she jerked the weapon from his chest cavity, not faltered at all by what they had witnessed. Until the sound of wings beating the air caught everyone, except Nix, off guard. The giant stone foot of an angel slammed into the man on the left whom launched backwards and collided with the brick wall in a bloodied mess. A large pike like weapon stabbed outward, caught the man on the right, and pinned him to the wall with a wail of agony. The angel lurched forward and slammed a stone fist into the mans face, his screams silenced and his body limp. The twelve foot tall angel pulled the weapon from the mans stomach with a quick jerk, it turned towards the rest of the group with a scowl on it's stone face and flicked the dead mans blood from its knuckles. Three men remained. Two rather scrawny and terrified looking men, and the leader who looked more angry than before. "You're gonna pay for that little girl... Those were my men." His voice seemed to grow deeper, and more gravely. Arms sprouted from his back like plants in fast forward. "They were rookies, I was training them for the big times.... You were supposed to be an easy hit." His skin grayed and cracked taking on a stone like appearance. His arms were about as large as her. "Anyone ever tell you, you look like a Pokemon?" "You're dead!" The shout shook the alleyway. The creature was almost as tall as the Angel next to Pandora but twice as menacing looking. The other two men moved their hands in synchronization and out of a portal came two very large, and very deadly looking axes. The Pokemon grabbed onto them and hefted them over both shoulders before charging, while again the other two men started chanting and moving their hands. Before her eyes a light blue barrier encircled the beasts form. -Great they're shielding him.- -Acknowledged Pandora, we gotta kill them first.- -If that thing hits my statue it'll do some major damage to both of us.- -Hmm, would be a great time to have some Order help wouldn't you say?- -Would be a great time for you to shut up and pay attention!- The Angel statue parried the first two strikes from the blades with ease, the third blocked successfully while the forth struck it's side and bore a whole deep into it. Pandora let out a cry of pain as her own side bruised immediately from the hit. Nix's plan was already formulated though, they dodged around the fight and with sword held over head launched into the air the flaming weapon swinging in an arc. Nothing ever goes as planned though. Upon noticing the airborne Pandora, one of the magi turned and after a short incantation a shock wave tore through the alley and struck her in the chest. Her world flipped upside down as she slammed into the makeshift blockade, the sword and her own body dropped to the ground with a thud and clank. -Good plan Nix.- -I did not see that coming. Perhaps you have a plan?- -Start praying?- -No- -Tuck our head between our legs and--- -No- -Face it Nix. We're done for.- -Oh and it's all your fault Panda-bear. Good job- -I get it... I may have fucked up.-
  20. Raeden (Rae) Seiko

    Fuck Mondays......

    March 2, 2020 - 6:15am What?...when?....I want……what do you mean he already said he wouldn’t talk to me? Judy did you…. What about the chief did he……ya… ya…. ok…..I get it. Phone snapped shut viciously before being jammed back into her front pocket. Doji bakayaro koshinuke sukebe saitei……… Back of her head hit the wall several times as the string of insulting expletives continued to mutter from her lips. It was the third cop from her district to jump ship to the Vanguard since the bloody moon events in November. Men she had always known to be good cops were suddenly bigoted "kill them all" fanboys. Pussy… Last insult breathed from her lips as she pushed from the wall. Having the dispatch girl tell her was the final insult of just how pathetic Joe had proved to be. There was a reason they didn’t want to talk to her when they made such stupid decisions. She wasn’t called the barracuda behind her back for no reason. Her words could slice a man and leave him cowering in the aftermath. And all this before her damn morning coffee. The door she had just been grabbing when the phone had rung and interrupted was grabbed once more, pulled open a bit roughly as she strode up to the counter to wait her turn still half muttering under her breath when Rachel asked a second time if she wanted the usual. Huh… ?.. oh sorry Rachel… ya… the usual… and one of those cinnamon walnut..things you keep trying to pawn off on me. The girl behind the counter lit up. She was a bit of a baker and so was always creating something new for the café. Unfortunately the detective wasn’t a breakfast person so she was usually disappointed every time she offered. Today just felt like a sit down and eat sort of day. It was going to be long and annoying; two things best dealt with on a full gut. The small coffee cake was pulled from the top of the glass case as she turned to park at the table in the front corner, taking the seat with her back to the wall. It was a cop thing. Picking at the little coffee cake concoction while she waited for her triple espresso, she had to admit, the thing wasn’t half bad. So…. big decision for the morning was did she go into the precinct and deal with this shit? Or just hit the pavement. She was strongly leaning towards the latter as the other method hadn't bought her any good will with the chief the last two times cops turned traitor on them. Fuck Mondays.
  21. Slate Morrison

    Seven Points

    RISE OF THE BLOOD MOON EVENT - 'The Calm Before the Storm' 4:00 PM. November 11th, 2019. Veteran’s Day. Full Moon. Muldoon’s Irish Pub & Restaurant, 3rd Avenue (between 43rd and 44th), Midtown, Manhattan. Slate had been frequenting Muldoon’s for years. Quaint low lit pubs with that authentic Irish ambience were hard to come by and so their clientele tended to stick. The lack of cops made it all the more attractive, the rogue detective preferring not to rub shoulders with his fellow boys in blue at the end of the day. He didn’t have much in common. Tucked in a corner booth, Slate took note of the pictures and memorabilia on the shelf above him. The place was littered with Irish mementos and old photographs of Irish icons and ancestors of the owners. He usually sat at the bar and had never seen these two characters before, one man evidently a veteran. Before taking a swig of his lager he raised his pint, tipping it to the unknown soldier out of respect. It was Veteran’s day after all, and as a good a reason as any other to partake in a drink or two. [npc]Did you order?[/npc] Inquired the young woman returning to the table, sliding into the corner beside the much larger man. [slate]Steak right?[/slate] He confirmed. [npc]Salmon![/npc] The girl groaned, gasping at the mishap. She couldn’t possibly eat red meat but as a mischievous grin spread across the man’s face it became obvious he was only feigning the mix-up. [slate]Just kidding. Wouldn’t want to risk you turning or anything.[/slate] [npc]Very funny.[/npc] She smiled, rolling large, dark lashed eyes seductively at the handsome musician. [npc]You shouldn’t joke about things like that.[/npc] She playfully scolded, but there was a superstitious truth to her words. It was the first full moon of the ‘Turn’ and people were still getting used to venturing out on these nights. The reality of lycanthropes and their change dictated by a lunar influence had struck horror in the populace. For years, people cowered behind locked doors, fearing a were-beast to come a’ knocking. Incidents were few and even rare were random attacks. In Slate’s experience most assaults committed by were-beasts were purposely directed toward individuals of a criminal nature. Still, the illusion of security was required. The pub’s front windows and door were guarded by heavy bars. Just in case. [npc]Aren’t you a little worried? You know, I never go out on these nights. I think this is the first time in five years.[/npc] Slate shook his head and shrugged. [slate]Don’t think about it much. You’re just as likely to run into something just as monstrous any night of the week.[/slate] [npc]Gee. Thanks for that. I may never go out again.[/npc] She laughed while pulling a thinly rolled joint out of a cigarette case. Igniting the tip, the girl took a pull and passed the favour to Slate, but he politely refused and sparked up one of his cigarillos instead. [slate]Another Harp.[/slate] He requested of a passing server, gesturing to his quarter full glass. [slate]So what d’ya do, Megan?[/slate] The musician finally asked. [npc]I’m in my third year, still not sure what I want to do.[/npc] She admitted, her knee accidentally grazing his beneath the table. [npc]You?[/npc] [slate]I’m doing it.[/slate] Slate lied, purposely hiding the fact that he was a cop. Musicians were far more attractive.
  22. February 20, 2020 1:30 PM Where Columbia had remained open even through the madness of the apocalypse, it had been ten years, and there was no longer even a fraction of a reason why the best and brightest of what remained of the nation could not attend a top school. Alec did, of course, miss his Alma Mater, but Chicago was a long way to go, just to see what probably was little more than a zombie breeding ground for any foolish enough to venture forth. Nonetheless, here the mage... no, today, the scholar, the doctor, found himself, standing in front of a podium. [walker] Testing, one two three. [/walker] Alec spoke into the microphone. Nothing happened, and he fiddled with the device for a moment before just chucking it under the podium into the storage space there. It was a simple cantrip to amplify one's voice. [walker]Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. If you would please take your seats, the lecture will begin shortly.[/walker] Students continued speaking amongst themselves, making it obvious who the dedicated learners among them were, and who had simply attended for some social experience. Alec cleared his throat, still amplifying the sounds from his vocal cords, and then, when the class would not come to order, layering his voice with a light mezmer. Some students were still unaffected, but when they saw the rest of the class sitting down, they obliged as well. Alec dropped the layered speech and unfolded a few notes on the podium. [walker]As I'm sure you all know, because you have come to hear me speak, I am Dr. Alec Walker, one of the world's few remaining experts on Scandinavian history and, in particular, the use of its Runic alphabet for the practice of magic.[/walker] Alec had long since given up on powerpoint, and instead opted for an overhead projector like the ones his own teachers had used in elementary school. [walker] Yes, this device here on stage with me looks like it belongs in the era of the dinosaurs, but as I trust you all know, having spent the last ten years in the same world as the rest of us, magic tends to render technology unusable, so I keep things simple.[/walker] The first transparency to be placed on the projector was simply the alphabet of Futhark, in its eldest form. [walker] You may recognize some of these letters, and you may wonder what some of them even are. The fact is that Futhark is the direct predecessor to the romanized alphabet. For a time, the rune "thorn," pronounced "th," was a part of the English language, until we replaced it with the letter Y in print. "Ye olde sweet shop" is actually "the olde sweet shop."[/walker] Alec chuckled, though no one else probably would. [walker]But enough boring you all with etymology. You want to know about this. [/walker] The second transparency was an image of the Galdabrok, more specifically, the very copy Alec had touched on that first Resonated day. [walker] Of course, you have all learned the history of our world, illuminated as it has been by those who were here before, and those who have since returned. In the days before the very first Resonance, Humanity knew how to harness and wield magic. In the days after that first schism, magic drained from the world, but the rituals that were used to try and harness it once more were preserved. Around the world, different languages and cultures developed their own rituals, hence the lack of any dedicated curriculum for spellcasting in the modern day.[/walker] Alec switched transparencies once again. [walker]Here, for example, you see three different languages, each detailing a way to cast the exact same spell. [/walker] A small dummy was wheeled out onto the lecture stage, and Alec assumed a stance clearly. He first chanted the words in the Futhark dialect, sending a sphere of wind across the stage with an audible whoosh and a visible impact, knocking over the dummy. It was propped back up, and Alec spoke the words next in Arabic, with the same, albeit weaker result. Finally, he spoke the words in Urdu, to an even weaker result. [walker] My magic stems from my connection to the runes, and as such, it is strongest in connection to other, similar languages. Now, each of these three incantations are typically paired with a set of rituals, usually involving spell circles, magical foci, and other accouterments. With practice, any magician can move beyond such ritualistic preparations and cast the spell, often without invocations. Like this. [/walker] Alec held out his palm once more, firing a ball of wind across the stage with the same intensity and ferocity as the first, to the same result. The talk went on to discuss the roots of magic as rooted in linguistics, and the fact that where Freud believed totemism was an attempt to understand the world, it was, according to Alec's own theory, an attempt to restore the world to its former state. Eventually, the bearded mage stopped talking, and opened up the floor to questions.
  23. Blood Moon Event

    BLOOD MOON - Empire State Building

    Nov 11, 2019 - 5pm (Blood Moon Event) Outside and up the Empire State Building (possible Sigil location! - open to all to make their own story!) Only a quarter of an hour ago the moonrise bathed the city crimson. Many took to the Empire to get a better look at the unexpected phenomenon from the observation deck and its antiquated public telescopes. But excited chatter has turned to screams as the observers got a first look of death stampeding into the city. Coming down the streets pound the oversized paws of what feel like hell-spawn. Lycanthropes come like a waterfall up and over the lower buildings. Dozens... more... beginning to claw their way in and up the outside of the Empire State Building. More running past it to find other bastions to decimate. Hell on earth has started.......
  24. Lian Storm

    Gyre and gimble

    November 2019 Nighttime Wintery conditions Central Park. The bastion of twisted plants whose aura was of confusion and acceptance. That pretty much summed up a whole lot of beings. Lian was not too much one but was still working on the other. Nine years of traveling and watching change that was both abrupt and yet almost fated. Her kind understood the fates, the wheel turns and does not merit a plan in its path. A way better way of saying 'yea we are fucked so lets just work with it guys' But...she could still recall older memories and that is why what she 'accepted' was done in a oddly wary manner. She had not seen the city since the before. Before when she had ended up sailing off a rooftop to strike a stairwell and turn aiming the one last pistol with the one last bullet upwards towards a very pissed off were creature with an attitude problem. That seemed to be eons ago and yet it was not even a decade ago. Time moved swiftly once the changes had come. It had left so much almost scarred beyond repair. But in Lian's world, scars held a measure of character. They were the marks of survival at great cost. Their presence was an assurance that life went on. She had chosen Central Park rather than a hotel or motel in the area, those places much like in other cities were not exactly going to guarantee a good nights rest. What had taken to staying within them usually was looking to strike up a tussle. Lian never minded a good tussle but there is merit in sleep as well. She had shifted and found succor in the broken and bracken roots of an old tree. Wolves are good like that really! When the moon rose and swung in the weird sky above, she had stretched out and changed once more into the fluid petite creature adorned in faded denim and a warm jacket. A duffel was slung across her shoulder and a mop of pale hair dusted the gamin features with whispy strands from a breeze that carried a myriad of scents to her nose. What once would have been indicative of known things had also changed. The fabric of reality had been changed and that too changed those things one depended on. Everything in a sense was new. Well, she had arrived, slept and perhaps - not denying the wolf had found a measure of meat now-eaten. Two things that are sorta important to sanity usually. Now she needed to see what this dark world offered. Her exit from Pennsylvania had been a great idea. The lesson you learn from working for two opposing factions was that in the end, they would always turn on you. Lian should have just killed them both however, the response would have been a target on her tail which she really did not need at this time. She turned to the different directions as if choosing by those odd scents her planned path. There was nothing wrong with staying among the wood, but she needed to do some thing. Lian was a strangling in a stranger city. All the familiar was no longer what it once was, and that meant finding these things out a step at a time. It also meant achieving work and maybe connections. Wryly she also knew it meant finding a place to be- an apartment or base of a sorts. She had one had a very neat flat but it had been destroyed by a very unusual attack. She should have known that staying where a known rebellion housed itself was gonna be trouble. It had been a good place for a few weeks at least? Ah, to the right, because the smells were a bit more familiar. And with that she pivoted on the heel of her boot and took up her pace towards a less thicket like area. There was bound to be a coffee shop somewhere right? Coffee survived everything.
  25. Johann Sebastian Eligius


    14 Mott St 1:13 PM Johann wandered the streets of Chinatown. Comics shops, odd candy shops, ooh. A restaurant. Ramen. Ra-Men? Servants of an Egyptian god? They'd created a noodle dish that had become popularized in Japan, and then all over the world. Johann did feel a tad bit hungry. Well, he'd only eaten three double-bacon cheeseburgers and a loaf of sourdough bread this morning. Might as well try something out of his comfort zone. A gust of autumn air wafted into the restaurant, much to the chagrin of the hostess, standing right in front of the door. [npc]Hello! Welcome to Ajisen Ramen. How many in your party today? [/npc] Johann returned the enthusiastic smile. [johann] Just myself. [/johann] The words were deadpan. The hostess showed him to a small table, handed over the menu, and left. So what was Ramen? The menu didn't help much, but the pictures did make him hungrier. Fried chicken, japanese ribs, Barbecue Pork with noodles and egg? It all looked good. The waitress came over. Johann pointed at the "Set Meal" portion of the menu--each item on which was a full meal with rice and meat--and flatly proclaimed: [johann]I'll start with the dumplings, and then, I'll have one of each of these. [/johann] The waitress almost dropped the tea pot the establishment delivered instead of plain water because she was laughing so hard. [npc] A beansprout like you? [/npc] [johann] I'm completely serious. One of each. [/johann] She marked down the dragonian's request, then stepped back to the kitchen to put the massive order in. Johann leaned back in the chair and took a sip of the tea, waiting for the food to come out.


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