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Post by JW% on Aug 27, 2012 14:46:27 GMT -8
((Link back to OOC tsdcv3.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpuooc&action=display&thread=5106 )) It was night, probably. The sky was filled with dark clouds, not a ray of light filtered through them. And even had such a ray breached the thunder clouds and sooty smog that covered the city, what would they have shined on? The gothic or modern sculptures of eagles or gargoyles that crowned the fanciest buildings? The various figures in either skin tight uniforms or powered armor who flew between these buildings, patrolling after citizen curfew? Perhaps the light would shine on them, but it wouldn't make it's way into the back alleyways, the trash strewn mazes, or that which was beneath such places. The basement dive bars, the stormdrains, the sewers, the subway, and everything else below. The rain was starting now. Not yet heavily. There were few people out at night, but then no city large enough to be called a city can be said to ever sleep. Street lights vied against neon signs advertising various goods and services to illuminate through the hazy rain. Those defenders of so called justice above seldom came down this low, to this part of town. He was new to this part of town as well. To this city. The tribe had fearfully called them Sahani Svnoyi Gvhe, and added a warding motion when they spoke of him. The blue night bobcat. A painfully descriptive name, as his body was covered by a dense wiry fur, blue in color, his ears stood upright as triangles poking out of his long hair, and his face was twisted into a feline countanence. The rain would cover scents. He did not like it. Even so, the aura of night about him seemed to greedily suck away the water before it could touch him, leaving behind a somewhat oily black liquid as he moved. The hunter/trackers, the Sacred Ageteno, were after him. A three state rampage did that. He was tired still from the battles, from plucking their arrows out of his surprisingly slight body, from generating a deadly glow on his claws that let him tear through stone, steel, through anything. He'd lost them by riding in a semi truck to this city. It was the biggest he'd ever been in, and he was wary of every sound, every smell. Nobody noticed him as he crawled on all four limbs, his body pressed tight against the side of the building, his claws holding him against it's shear surface. His golden slitted eyes watched the violence below, as three figures assaulted another, brutalized them, and then stole from their victim. The bestial urge to kill rose in his heart, but the Blue Night Bobcat was not some wild animal. He had his own cruel intelligence. This was not for him to be involved with. His broken chains, from the collars on his neck and waist, ankles and wrists that the Ageteno had tried, and failed, to restrain him with, scraped slightly as he crawled along the wall, high enough that the gang bangers and other lowlifes below couldn't see him. They hunted the weaker, but they themselves were prey in this mounting pyramid of dominance. Prey never looked up until it was too late. Tonight was not his night to hunt however. Tonight he would explore. To get the feel of this new place, and establish his territory and a lair. Far below the Blue Night Bobcat, the rain continued to seep down, bleeding even through the concrete that made up the foundations of many of these buildings. Far away, far below, in a cavern where that soaking rainwater turned to ice, a man sat on a throne, imprisoned by his own creation. If one could call him a man still. Once he had been, just as the nations greatest hero once had been a mere frail boy. A similar event had brought about both of their startlingly different transformations. His powers were growing out of control, he knew this. His heavily muscled body was not only an icy blue, but where it sagged on him with age it grew into icicle like formations. During the height of his strength he had been known as Nuclear Winter. Now his radiation powers were killing him, and he was gradually losing control of his ice abilities. But he still knew things. He could still sense the heat of those above, hear the song of energy frequences from everything from cellphones to microwave ovens. A single droplet of water fell from an icicle on the ceiling of his grand bedroom, and Nuclear Winter reached out, catching the fat droplet on his fingertip. It crystalized almost instantly into a little pearl. He gazed at the tiny thing he had caught, a trace of oily blue/black material inside of it. From beneath his frozen beard he smiled. With the most delicate of care Nuclear Winter placed the frozen droplet onto his game board. It was a vast map of the city, with so many other frozen droplets, representing the forces that warred within the city. Not even knowing the creatures name, the Sahani Svnoyi Gvhe had been added to this struggle. A new villain had joined this city of villains.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 27, 2012 16:23:12 GMT -8
He liked it when it rained. In its own small way, the downpour would cleanse the city. It would be only a temporary measure and not at all a true purge as Pinnacle deserved but it was a good sign.
For the moment, Father Enoch was at a bar, relaxing as he drank some Earl Grey. While having taken one of the more secluded booths, he was still a very striking man to behold, being quite tall and muscled in stature and with handsome features (though at times they looked as though they had been carved onto his face by a hatchet). He also stood out due to the simple black priest's cassock he was wearing.
After several minutes, he got up, having finished his tea and leaving the money on the table as he retrieved his coat and umbrella before stepping out into the sidewalk. He then quickly opened the umbrella and started back on his return journey to St. Elissa's House of God, the church whose services he was in charge of.
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Post by Anya the Purple on Aug 27, 2012 17:00:17 GMT -8
The city was far too dark for her liking. All that smog and shit, it was probably gonna cause a lot of trouble where trouble wasn't needed. When she owned this town, she'd get rid of that. She'd grow a fuckin' forest if that's what it took.
Right now, though, all she wanted was some food. Her powers worked best with gigantic flowers, then with weed. By the time it got down to food crops, she was pretty shitty at growing things. Well, unless she did it the traditional way, but who had the space for that in this place?
"Heyyyy there," Mistress Moonbeam said to whoever was passing by. Big tall guy, with a face like serving of grumpy with extra stick-in-the-mud on the side. But he had some sorta church clothes on, so maybe he'd help her out. "Hiya," she said, stepping under his umbrella and displaying a gap-toothed smile. "You got any cash for a poor homeless lady? Hey wait a minute," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I've seen you somewheres. Whatcha do, then, besides preach? You ain't one of my customers, are you?" She was pretty sure he was not one of the people to whom she sold marijuana. But she'd seen him somewhere.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 27, 2012 17:09:37 GMT -8
"I do not indulge in such vices, Miss." While irritated by the thought, he kept his tone polite. "I can't give you any cash, but I can point you towards a soup kitchen not far from here. They will ensure you're suitably looked after for tonight."
If not for the fact that he loved his work and put some effort to actually being a good servant of God, Enoch would have ignored the old woman. However, he cared about his work and his strong sense of duty would not have allowed him to ignore someone in need.
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Post by Anya the Purple on Aug 27, 2012 19:12:43 GMT -8
"No? Well, I've seen ya around... What did you say yer name was?" asked Mistress Moonbeam. Damn. She'd hoped he would have cash. She knew about the soup kitchens, of course, but they were all official and shit. Aside from the fact that she hated official shit on principal, she figured there was probably someone there would turn her in to the authorities. She was technically a public enemy, after all. "Hold on a minute," she said, the thought jogging her memory. "Yer that preacher guy, been on the news a couple times. Protector Industries doesn't like you. What was your name...?"
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 27, 2012 19:33:36 GMT -8
"Does it matter who I am? And even if it did, it's not as though you don't have your own secrets to keep, madam?" He replied coolly, bringing to light that she had also been seen on the news. "As I said before, I am but a servant of God, nothing more."
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Post by Penny Royals on Aug 27, 2012 21:26:18 GMT -8
It was a cold night, Wendy noticed. She really, really didn't like the cold, because when it was cold she was forced to wear bulkier clothes, and lord knows her clothes were bulky enough when they WEREN'T trying to keep her warm. Today she wore a slightly longer skirt, a thicker petticoat, a slip, woolen tights, knee-high boots, a long-sleeved blouse and a small mantle. The mantle had a hood, though it was mostly for decoration, hanging limply off her shoulders. She instead carried an umbrella, dome-shaped but big enough to keep her and her clothing safe.
She was out here in the middle of the night, seemingly alone, with her hair and makeup all done up prettily. Civilians with no agendas thought she was either odd or going out on a date, while those WITH agendas (and some with a good solid alibi) were looking at her suspiciously. Whether they thought SHE looked suspicious, or whether THEY were being suspicious, well... that, of course, was an entirely different story. All in all, however, the standard person would wonder what the hell a young lady like her was doing out on a dark night like this, especially now as she entered 'that' part of town.
'That' part of town seemed, should no one with a skilled eye be there, like the rest of the town. There were no true signs of wear on the buildings, and it seemed well-lit enough... but more people were around this area, beneath the streets, hiding in alleyways, seeking out victims from apartments. She looked like standard fare for the usual gang banger, thief, or psychopath. Seemingly unarmed, small, young (looking even moreso in her little get-up), alone, and very obviously rich... it was a wonder how she'd made it this far with no hands reaching out of the darkness.
She turned the corner, hopping over a mud puddle, and coming across the scene with Father Enoch and Mistress Moonbeam- though their names she did not know, and to her they seemed just like an odd priest and an old homeless lady.
She found that she had stopped to stare, rather confused...
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Post by Anya the Purple on Aug 28, 2012 15:44:33 GMT -8
"No, I've definitely seen you," Mistress Moonbeam insisted, ignoring his remark about her own infamy. What did she care if the political bigwigs didn't like her? She'd have 'em all chased outta town soon, anyway. She looked around to see a small girl staring at them. "Hey, tell me, you've seen this guy on tv, right?" she asked. "I mean if I've seen 'im, he must be pretty well known. Do you remember who he is?"
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 28, 2012 15:54:52 GMT -8
"Hmph! I don't have time for this nonsense." Father Enoch quickly shrugged her off of him, taking a moment to acknowledge both Mistress Moonbeam and the newcomer with a cordial "Good evening" before he hurried off down the street, silently bemoaning what dark times these were when people seemed to have forgotten the meaning of discretion.
I may have to put a hit on that old woman if she becomes too much trouble, but hopefully it doesn't come to that. Still, it was an option to keep in mind for the future.
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Post by Prime Spinosaur on Aug 28, 2012 16:32:47 GMT -8
"Yeah boss..?" Said a man talking into his phone. "I know. I see both of them. Yeah, together, it doesn't seem to be a trap, do you want me to approach them together or separately." The man was trying to be inconspicuous, but was failing already, as the two of them could hear him from five feet away.
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Post by Penny Royals on Aug 28, 2012 17:21:55 GMT -8
Wendy just stood there, looking at everybody, trying to seem as innocent as she possibly could. She shrugged at the old woman's comment, and, beginning to hum in her cutest voice, took off in a skip after the priest, though several yards behind. After leaving the sight of the old woman, she stopped humming and skipping, and slowed down, ducking into another alleyway to continue on her journey around.
She was up to something, yes, but what it was wasn't certain.
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Post by Anya the Purple on Aug 28, 2012 20:41:45 GMT -8
Mistress Moonbeam looked around a bit, a pensive look on her face. Nobody wanted to talk to her. Or drink her smoothies! Too bad. Also, she still didn't have any cash.
She placed her hands in the pockets she'd sewn onto her skirt, scanning the street for anyone she could mooch off of. There was a guy talking on a phone, but he looked pretty official. She stayed away from that type of person when she could.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 30, 2012 14:46:50 GMT -8
Father Enoch made it back to the church without further incident, greeted by the lovely sight of Sister Loretta lighting the candles for the evening's service. "Has anything come up while I was gone, Sister Loretta?"
The strawberry blonde-haired nun turned to regard him as she lit the last one. "No, Father Enoch but you did get some mail. I took the liberty of leaving it at your desk."
Enoch nodded as he stopped to cross himself before the altar and utter a few prayers before turning to look at her. "Good, I'll have a look at it later. For that matter did you take care of that other thing?"
She beamed as she gave her answer. "The Shroud of the Lord? Why yes, it is ready! As are the adjustments to your arms, Father."
He nodded approvingly. "Excellent! Just in time for the next job." There was a moment's pause before he spoke again. "Sister, shall I expect to see you after evening services? It's been a busy day."
Loretta gave a demure nod, her green eyes shining. "Of course, Father Enoch."
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Post by JW% on Sept 3, 2012 13:44:33 GMT -8
"So, how'd you luck out and get me assigned to this cake walk?"
The security guard looked up at the man in the brass colored armor. Black tights were visible under the armor, and silver highlights rounded out the outfit. The helmet in particular looked kind of silly, being flat topped with a little cylinder sticking up out of the center, but the whole outfit from the armored vest, the bulky forearms, and the heavy wheeled boots just looked somewhat silly in the guards opinion.
"I mean, you could have got a Pinnacle Protector or something, instead I got called in."
"Your company was the lowest bidder." The guard said, trying to shut up this whining 'super hero'. "And your services were the lowest price they had to offer. We needed powered support for insurance reasons. You qualify." He left the 'barely' unsaid.
The open facemask of the helmet showed the mans eyes going wide, and his face turning red. "I'm the lowest price? Me? The Unstoppable Topman? My contracts should go for top dollar!"
"Yeah, take it up with your boss." The guard shrugged, trying not to laugh. 'Topman'? Well, it sorta explained the helmet at least. "Until then just stand around, look shiny, and stay out of our way."
The armored car bumped over the curb as it turned into an alleyway. They weren't exactly in the high rent district of Pinnacle City. In fact there was a soup kitchen just down the street a little ways. But the pawn shop here had a vault with some stuff that was actually worth protecting. Jewelry, some historical artifacts, nothing big name of course, but more than a lousy little pawn shop probably had a right to. It was probably a front for fencing illegal goods.
Which was fine with the guard. Fences usually weren't targeted by thieves. So long as everyone got the share they'd agreed on, he didn't care what he was doing. A job was a job. Even to the not very well armored 'hero' he was sharing the back of the truck with.
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Post by Prime Spinosaur on Sept 3, 2012 14:50:49 GMT -8
Mistress Moonbeam looked around a bit, a pensive look on her face. Nobody wanted to talk to her. Or drink her smoothies! Too bad. Also, she still didn't have any cash.
She placed her hands in the pockets she'd sewn onto her skirt, scanning the street for anyone she could mooch off of. There was a guy talking on a phone, but he looked pretty official. She stayed away from that type of person when she could. "H-hey! ma'am!" The man started walked over to Mistress Moonbeam, still talking on the phone. The person on the other line must've said something serious as the man with the phone cringed. "S-sorry boss." He straightened himself and spoke, "My boss would like to have a word with you, nothing, uh, official, he would like to make a job offer."
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Post by Anya the Purple on Sept 3, 2012 16:40:43 GMT -8
Mistress Moonbeam looked the guy over. What would some big boss want with her? The guy said it wasn't official, but who could tell with these suit-wearing types? On the other hand, a job meant money, and money meant food... Assuming she could get paid cash. She didn't have a bank account.
"An' what kinda job is this?" she asked cautiously, taking a step closer.
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Post by Prime Spinosaur on Sept 3, 2012 18:12:29 GMT -8
"It's ah," he looked around, "it pays well, that's all I can say right now. If your interested, you can follow me to where my boss is."
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Sept 3, 2012 22:09:31 GMT -8
Wickerman was always out of place, in a place like Pinnacle City, where eccentrics and madmen roamed free as the citizens of this denizen.
He let out a low sigh, a gentle hum and a quiet release of air, as he placed his long fingers on the church door, a quiet creak showing he had arrived. He was gentle with the closing of the door, and it was difficult to hear him approach.
A gentle click and a clack was heard, as his bare feet hit the main pathway up the lanes of the church, a dirtied hood in one hand, his other hand on his chest, his head bowed.
His large frame collapsed in on itself, and he brought himself before the altar in a kneel. There was clicking sounds, and an audible hum that appeared to emanate from the area around Wickerman.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Sept 4, 2012 7:47:16 GMT -8
Father Enoch looked up from the bible he was skimming through at the sound of the door opening, instantly recognizing the newcomer as one of St. Elissa's frequent worshippers. "Please, go over to the confessional and I'll be with you in a moment, sir."
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
Posts: 1,402
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Post by lovely corte on Sept 4, 2012 17:44:39 GMT -8
There was a series of clicks, followed by a loud snap as Wickerman stood up, his arms draped out at his sides as he clambered over to what he presumed to be a confessional box.
It was cozy, tight - it could barely fit Wickerman's frame, if not for the fact his joints seemed to crumple in on themselves as he descended into the box. He closed the door with a gentle click, and sat, hands in his lap, hood in one hand, looking into the confessional box's frame work mesh covering one side from the other, and waiting for an answer.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Sept 4, 2012 18:02:13 GMT -8
As promised, Father Enoch went into the other side of the box, a bible and crucifix in one hand as he closed the door behind him before sitting down. "You may begin confessing your sins."
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
Posts: 1,402
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Post by lovely corte on Sept 4, 2012 18:28:41 GMT -8
Wickerman pressed his face against the mesh, gently clicking and humming out a series of sounds. They quickly rose in decibel levels, until his voice was no longer a whisper.
His voice was quiet, and gentle, like what you'd imagine a sentient tree would speak like.
"Father," Wickerman began, "I profess my sins. I've... hurt... murdered... people."
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Sept 4, 2012 18:43:34 GMT -8
"Go on." Enoch prompted as he fiddled with the crucifix, a lovely ornate thing of iron and fire-opals. "Speak of thy sins. Though the question must be asked: were they...innocents?"
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Sept 4, 2012 18:49:27 GMT -8
"I cannot say, Father," Wickerman went on, "They place the drape over my eyes, then once It is off, I see but corpses of the decrepit."
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Post by Anya the Purple on Sept 4, 2012 20:37:32 GMT -8
Mistress Moonbeam shook her head. "Nuh-uh. That's Stranger Danger. Never go to a second location." She crossed her arms in front of her. This was probably a front put up by the government fat cats to try and take away her rights to free speech. Becoming a criminal was totally a kind of speech. "If yer boss wants me to do a job so bad, he can call." She motioned to the guy's phone.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Sept 6, 2012 6:18:54 GMT -8
"I cannot say, Father," Wickerman went on, "They place the drape over my eyes, then once It is off, I see but corpses of the decrepit."
"Hmm...I see. In such a situation it would be difficult to discern if they were innocents or not." There was a pause. "Athough...by any chance, did these people wear orange clothing? If that was the case, we could assume then that they weren't innocents and therefore your actions may have done some service to the community. Still, you must repent."
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
Posts: 1,402
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Post by lovely corte on Sept 6, 2012 18:15:26 GMT -8
"Repent, yes. Repent." Wickerman chimed, followed by several clicks, "What must I do to seek salvation in the eyes of the Lord?"
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Sept 6, 2012 18:51:01 GMT -8
"The men who did this to you...Do you recall their faces? Names?" Enoch paused momentarily. "If so, you must subject them to what they made you do. Your hands did the work, true but they are no better simply because they didn't dirty themselves. Afterwards...why not do some form of community service? There are many such jobs Pinnacle has to offer."
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Post by Penny Royals on Sept 6, 2012 19:29:00 GMT -8
Soon, the doors to the church gradually reopened. The sound of rain pouring outside filled the hall as the newcomer shook out her umbrella and closed it, setting it in the pot for such things off to the side. She shut the doors rather heavily, and looked around.
Surprisingly, the church seemed warm enough. She had a feeling she'd probably be burning by the time she'd leave. She walked down the aisle ways, taking quick glances at the pews. Nobody was sitting there, but one can never tell what could be lurking.
"Am I too late for service?" She asked innocently, a gloved hand reaching up to wipe off a trace of mascara- only to have it run further down her cheeks. Along with the flustered look she had after running almost two blocks, she looked as if she had perhaps been crying.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Sept 6, 2012 20:46:01 GMT -8
Sister Loretta looked up from where she was preparing for the service, seeing the girl. "No, you're still early. However, the Father is busy with a confession at the moment."
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