A Local Linburn Gym - Matthew Streiss
Garry's Gym was known for two things - being open most of the day and night, and being where the local football team at Coolidge Central High School went to train when not using the school gym.
Matthew Streiss, the quarterback of the varcity team, just finished up his late night workout, and was now moving into the locker room. There was a lot for the young man to think about lately. Jackson White and his cronies were acting like stereotypical bullying assholes; the sad death of...of one of Matthew's biggest inspirations, and all the complication that had come of it.
Matthew sighed and stripped off before heading into the showers, deciding to shower any of his angst off with the sweat of the day's workout
The water was biting cold as Matthew grunted at the leap in sensation from the warm gym to the chilly water - adjusting it to a less harsh temperature. Soaking his long hair and washing his large, muscular body, Matthew let out a sigh.
He started to soap up, breathing - today was another hard day's workout, but he had to keep himself in shape for the next game. He couldn't let anyone down, they all expected greatness from Owen Logan's successor. Have to keep my core tight and strong, so I don't lumber too much. Can't be too scrawny, but can't be too brawny either. I think 220 is a good weight going forward. Coach wants me to be large enough to muscle through aggro from the other team, but fast enough and with a sure enough arm to make our plays.
Big Bro...I just can't believe you'd go and use steroids. Its not you. You always told me to play fair and not hold any grudges...
However just as Matthew started to wash the soap out of his hair, he heard a noise from the main part of the locker room. Matthew jumped and started to move to look out there as soon as the soap was gone, turning off the water and wrapping his towel around himself.
He couldn't see anyone around - the rest of the guys were still doing their exercises out there, and nobody else had been in the locker room when he'd come in to shower. He looked around, moving over to check the stalls. Nothing.
He was getting a pretty spooky vibe from this.
He then saw a weird note on his gym bag, resting by his locker. Matthew retrieved it and read; Meet me outside, behind the gym. I want to talk with you about something. -OL
Matthew's eyes widened - this was either some jackass deciding for some reason to fuck with the QB, or...
Matthew's breath quickened at the thought. Could Owen somehow not be dead or...?
Matthew moved in a rush - drying off as fast as possible, putting on his black short sleeve shirt, letterman, jeans and such in a hurry. He started to head out, he didn't want to give himself false hope, but he desperately wanted to believe that Owen was not actually dead. That...that he hadn't actually seen that or something.
edited 3rd Jun '18 12:14:24 AM by NickTheSwing
Under the surface of Linburn
After a long rest, Logan wakes up. He had recently been training, as while his new body is stronger than almost any human's, that doesn't mean he can't get stronger along with getting a better rhythm of how it works.
Usually he'd be spending his downtime on his tablet, just surfing the internet. But today, he felt like having a walk on the surface. Going outside, he passed by people with the same fate as Logan. They suffered the same fate as the wolf, though had grown more accustomed to it. He couldn't tell whether they fully adapted to their new lives like Logan or if they had the same thoughts as he did.
Eventually he left this secret settlement and reached the surface. He would probably stand out more to most if they could actually see him but Logan had the perception filter he learnt currently on. This didn't mean he could be careless though, disobeying road laws could make drivers unaware of his presence hit them. The wolf wandered the streets aimlessly, not even sure how long he'd be staying on the surface.
edited 2nd Jun '18 9:12:41 PM by JustaUsername
Some people say I'm lazy. It's hard to disagree.
Where am I? What's going on?
Basement Apartment
“MWAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Maniacal laughter resonated throughout Sammy’s apartment and into the shop above as she worked on her latest project. Already being a self-proclaimed expert at transmutation, the slime had most recently turned her research toward charmcrafting, with... mixed results.
And then she was done. On her desk sat a small piece of wood (her apartment was too damp for paper to be practical) with a deceptively simple circular symbol engraved upon it. In theory, this charm would repel creatures of the insectoid persuasion, and thus solve a minor pest problem that she had been having. But first it needed to be tested.
Foregoing the stairs, Sammy used her gooey physiology to climb the wall in front of her and ooze through the floorboards. The trash can out back would provide a perfect testing ground.
edited 2nd Jun '18 9:48:02 PM by PossiblyQuiteInsane
huzzaaaaaaaah
The Axel Corporation
Countless days spent in the back of buses, counting the bills at train stations, mindlessly chowing down on delicious food cooked to perfection from restaurants that seemed to exist in every city... it had all built up to this. And Noya couldn't find the strength to step through those two glass doors.
Staring at their own reflection, Noya tugged on their orange tinted glasses, tugged on their jacket, their skirt, their pants, bobbed back and forth, flicked a few specs of dirt stuck to the bottom of their bare feet... and then went back to doing it all over again, all whilst staring at their own reflection. They just couldn't do it. Despite hearing that same whisper in all of their dreams, amidst wonderful visions of a future just inches away from their grasp, they just couldn't do it. They just couldn't find within themselves the strength to go and meet whoever this 'Axel' was, and figure out exactly why his name had popped up in their head all those weeks ago- his name, and the name of this wonderful city.
Yes, Linburn had enchanted Noya, although its citizens were far too happy to ignore them whenever they asked for directions, help, or just a courteous 'hello'. They were probably busy, Noya thought, crossing their arms. I shouldn't expect them to change their entire routine just for me. Though the recent memory of a citizen accidentally throwing a crumpled paper bag on them instead of into the nearby trash can did pop up quite a few times. No, Noya repeated to themselves. I don't know them, I don't know their stories, I don't know what they were thinking. That man's bad aim might be because of his lack of glasses! Can't judge 'em just by that!
Smiling at themselves and nodding happily, Noya instantly ran out of things to think about whilst distracting themselves from heading into the building. Their eyes drifted up, up, up, squinting so they could catch the true height of that monstrosity, and the Axel Corporation headquarter's stared back down at them. Under its steely gaze, under that behemoth of concrete, Noya couldn't help but fear... what if the door locks behind me? What if there's no windows? What if there's no light? What if—
The feeling of cold concrete against their feet knocked Noya back into reality: they had been taking several steps back and were about to moonwalk into the street. Jumping back onto the catwalk, they took another good, long look at their reflection. The glow of the sun reflected off their eyes, giving them a faint orange dim. Noya's fingers traveled up from one of the scars near the bottom of their belly, up their chest, up their cheek, resting at those glowing eyes. I like this. They thought to themselves, a smile sneaking back onto their lips as their own eyes shimmered and changed, turning into a soothing orange that seemed to emanate a faint glow. I like me.
Fingers dropped down to their sides, allowing their hands to ball up into confident fists. With a prideful walk, Noya stepped closer to the door and almost shrieked in surprise when it opened up automatically. It's one of those! They thought, fighting back the urge to stop and watch it open and close again before stepping inside, letting their feet get used to the cold floor as they walked through the lobby, gawking and gasping at every pane of glass, every painting, every piece of decoration, until they had gawked and gasped all the way to the receptionist. "Hello!" Noya smiled brightly, waving to the attendant right in front of them before placing their hands behind their back. "I'm here to see Mr. Axel. I can wait as much as you need me to wait. Tell him it's very important, 'kay?"
edited 2nd Jun '18 9:20:46 PM by Stratofarius
The Fantabulous
Circe Alley, Linburn
Tucked away in the dim and apparently uninhabited Circe Alley, perpetually swathed in gloom despite the attempts of the summer sun, a dusty storefront seemed to exude an air of foreboding. The old, strained bricks framed neatly blacked out windows that seemed to exude a faint, warm glow beneath the carefully painted placard declaring its contents.
SISYPHEAN TASKS & TALISMANS
The overall effect inspired curiousity and more than a little caution from passers-by, and tended to encourage a particularly type of customer. Sisyphus had spent days painting, affixing charms and encouraging a few capricious spirits to mildly haunt the neighborhood. Resonant, manic laughter seemed to rise from the ground beneath the building - followed by a beleaguered sigh from somewhere above it. "If I have to fumigate down there again..." Dana Sisyphus grimaced, emerging from a back room with an old dented kettle and pouring the steaming contents into a mug before setting it neatly down, "Then again she usually eats the results, anyway." The dark eyed, modestly dressed witch shrugged.
Whilst she allowed her tea to steep in the hot water Dana took up a bright, feathered duster and gently applied it to the jumbled museum of curiosities, charms and cursed objects lining the shelves. As she passed a featureless mask of bone it rattled and groaned, prompting the young woman to raise an eyebrow, "Hmm? Oh of course..." She smiled warmly, swiftly dusting its white surface. The mask whispered and muttered, prompting her to straighten it and then move on to mopping the floor. Sisyphus heard the bucket in the corner slosh of its own accord, thrust upwards by a rising tide of green slime.
With a flick of her wrist the bucket levitated towards her and carefully set itself on the floor beside her. Dana leaned against her mop, waiting patiently as Sammy emerged, "You know that doesn't do wonders for the flooring, right?" She chuckled, allowing her friend to take form in her own time, "So, what's got you so happy?"
edited 3rd Jun '18 3:26:31 AM by Lt.BGob
“Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”
Kyrio Streiss - Suburban Dad, Out Shopping, Nothing to See Here
The sound of cheery humming and whistling along with a song would be heard just down the road from Circe Alley...
Kyrio Streiss was out on the town while his son was out at school - mostly shopping for what they were going to have to eat tonight, though today Kyrio took a detour to go visit a certain someone. His left hand held a bag full of purchased goodies - tonight the Streiss family would have spicy chicken, rice, almonds, salad, and Mexican bread.
As Kyrio had enjoyed his day, he caught certain people looking at him - some were giving him a wide berth, others were ineffectually glaring. He was relieved to go into a relatively less occupied area - far fewer people giving him "I want to try and kill you, but I'm afraid of dying" looks.
He added a slightly abridged lyric to his music, "Who am I to disagree? I haven't had to kill anyone in seven weeks...everybody's looking for something!"
Kyrio was if anything cheery about the whole lyric. He lived a different sort of life than most did - but he saw it as equally valid.
And sure, it had been more than seven weeks, but that wouldn't fit with the music!
He strolled into the front entrance to Dana's shop, looking around for what exactly he needed. Or rather, his son needed. Even though Matthew didn't know it yet, he'd require something from here.
Kyrio was many things, but he wasn't stupid enough to totally divorce himself from his information networks. Retired, yes. Stopped paying attention at all? No.
edited 3rd Jun '18 2:07:05 AM by NickTheSwing
AKA Nixer
Axel Tower
The receptionist, a woman in her prime whose nametag simply read 'Betty', gave Noya a gesture of "just a minute" with her finger before finally looking up, faltering slightly at their appearance.
“Ah. Of course. Just a second...”
She pressed the button of the microphone on her desk, speaking clearly into it whilst sneaking a few strange looks at the visitor.
“Mr. Axel? There's somebody at the desk who wishes to see you.”
There was a pause, before a low voice rumbled out from the other end. “Do they have an appointment?”
At this, the receptionist gave Noya a pointed look. “No, they do not. I'll be very happy to inform them why exactly they shou-”
“Send them up.”
Betty paused with a clear expression of shock, looking between the microphone and the visitor in indecision before shrugging, clearing her throat and pointing to the elevator access on the right.
“Well. Usually Mr. Axel insists on a prior appointment, but he seems to be in a good mood today. He's on the fiftieth storey, top button. It's the only office in that floor, just walk on through the double doors. But... erm...”
She looked left and right, before leaning across her desk and speaking in a hushed tone.
“Be... careful around him, okay? There's been a few rumours going around that something's... up with him. Now, I don't believe half of them, they're mostly ridiculous, but even I can tell he's a little... off. Just... careful what you say, and try not to irritate him or anything, alright?”
Beatrix's Abode
Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep
A young woman with light brown hair groaned as the alarm droned on, cracking her eyes open and clawing blearily out towards the cabinet positioned next to her bed.
BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP
Did it get louder, or was it just her?
Finally gripping the item, she suddenly whipped it towards the offending device, pulling the trigger.
It clicked.
BLEEPBLEEPBLEEPBLEEPBLEEP
Oh. Right. Safety.
She sighed, placing the pistol back onto the cabinet, before leaning over and pressing the snooze button on the alarm clock. Blissfully enjoying the newfound lack of obnoxious beeping, it was naturally only a matter of seconds before the telephone rang.
“Pissing... one thing or another...” she growled under her breath, throwing the covers off and padding over to the telephone, grabbing the pistol and its twin in the drawer below as she went by, making a short detour to the closet to pick up the holster. She picked up the phone, tucking it in the crook of her neck as she began to strap the holster on over her belt.
No, she hadn't changed since last night. Having to shoot up an entire gang in the span of two hours was surprisingly exhausting.
“Hello?” she answered in a neutral tone, partially tuning out the standard preliminary nonsense they for some reason thought they had to get through. Did they even know what type of people they were hiring?
“First of all, no, discuss payment after. That way I can accurately decide based on how many heads I popped how much your sorry ass needs to cough up. Second of all- no, I talk the way I like, damn it- second of all, I don't know what you heard about me, but whoever the moron was who decided to put ‘relentlessly #$&%ing enjoys the pre-planning process’ on my job description is so disgustingly inaccurate that I will feel absolutely no guilt in castrating the bastard once I lay my #$&%ing hands on him. I go out there, get it done, get paid. No pussyfooting around. Got it?”
There was a long moment of silence, quickly destroyed by an even louder, more angry string of incoherent shouting, to which she sighed in irritation, bringing the phone away from her ear slightly. She mouthed along mockingly to the standard 'how dare you's and 'do you know who you're talking to's before raising the phone up again.
“Yeah yeah yeah, I don't care. Heard it all before. Piss off,” she sharply interrupted, whipping out one of her guns and throwing the phone in the air, effectively shooting it out the window. She immediately winced as it smashed through the glass, before she suddenly realised what she had done and promptly palmed her face.
Crap... that was the landline...
Making a mental note to replace the number on her job description with the mobile, she stalked downstairs, taking her coat and keys off a pair of hooks on the way down and slipping the former over her shoulders. She kicked a shattered champagne bottle out of the way (she probably should have drunk it before using it as target practice) before making her way over to a gorgeous, metallic black sports motorcycle located near a garage door. She quickly hopped on, slipping the key into the slot and twisting it, the bike roaring viciously in response. Revving it with a barely suppressed grin, she kicked off the stand, shooting towards the closed garage doo-
CRAP!!
Acting quickly, she let go of both handlebars, the bike somehow staying perfectly on course even as she whipped out her dual pistols and ruthlessly fired at the metal, carving an opening in the door as they rocketed towards it. Once they were only seconds away from impact, she slipped her guns back into their place and ducked down behind the windshield.
The garage door buckled when the bike impacted, before simply snapping off, Beatrix letting out a whoop of success in the process and performing a celebratory wheelie. The victory was somewhat marred by the fact that this exact process was pretty much weekly at this point, but she never really got tired of it.
The bill for expenses, that she could do without. But every other part of it, she almost found herself doing on purpose.
The motorcycle rocketed off into the streets, towards the docks of Linburn. The job was a standard one for her, and a similar one to yesterday; clearing a gang hideout, but she was nonetheless pleased with it. Even if her client was a bit of a shouty bastard.
Ah, who was she kidding. They were practically all shouty bastards. It was the non-shouty bastards that you had to worry about...
edited 3rd Jun '18 4:47:41 AM by Enirboreh
bork
huzzaaaaaaaah
Axel Tower
Noya used the small waiting period to look around, tapping their fingers on the table as they whistled at the opulence of their tower. In a way, it all helped to disguise the fact that they were basically inside a big shoe box. Giggling at the image of people walking in and out of an actual giant shoe box, Noya leaned in with interest when Betty cleared her throat.
They nodded and hummed along with every instruction, giving a careful glance at the elevators and then promptly looking for another way up, smiling once they spotted the emergency stairs. Betty's warning grabbed their attention again, and Noya raised an eyebrow, confused. "He's probably having a bad day. I've had a bad day, and I bet you've had some too. I don't think talking about him like that is going to fix a bad day, right?" They muttered, frowning, sighing and then smiling again. "But thank you so much for your help!"
With another silly little wave sent, Noya walked right through the fireproof doors hiding the emergency stairs, which were an immediate contrast from the brightly lit and open lobby. The emergency stairs were drab, grey, and blandly lit, which is not to say that there were dark areas, but more that there were no shadows at all. No contrast, no highlights, function taking utmost precedence over form, the building dropping its disguise and admitting its true forms. Noya could feel a slight breeze hitting the back of their neck- a physical improbability considering there were no windows- as the walls stared back at them. When the wooziness hit, Noya didn't even wait a second, and immediately headed out, back into the lobby.
Instead of just riding the elevator like normal, Noya waited for them to be the only one taking the ride up, and using the opportunity to sit on top of the railings inside the lift, like a crow perched on top of a fence. Tapping their fingers against their knees and balancing themselves easily, they waited, and waited, and waited, jumping off only when the elevator was one floor away from their destination. When the doors opened, Noya quietly walked into the fiftieth floor, peering around every corner to make sure they weren't interrupting anyone... before finally walking through the double doors.
AKA Nixer
Axel Tower
As the doors swung open, their sheer weight carrying them out of Noya's grip, they revealed an expansive office with an incredibly high ceiling and tall glass panes that overlooked the city below. The floor was a varnished, impeccably clean wood, and the furniture was of an expensive-looking red velvet.
A tall man with quite an impressively gelled hairstyle was looking out of the window, dressed in a business suit. He had his back to Noya, and a thin trail of smoke was emanating away from him.
As they walked closer, he would turn, taking the cigarette out from his mouth between his fingers, and blowing out the remaining smoke, before slowly stalking over to his desk and placing it in the ashtray positioned there. That done, he diverted his full attention to Noya, discreetly looking them up and down before putting on a disarming grin, having an overall appearance of relaxation and charm.
“Ah, there you are then. Take a seat if you wish, I'll just open the window. Don't want you to breathe in that secondhand smoke...” he rumbled jovially, his low tone contrasting with his fairly slim and delicate features. He briefly turned back around to the aforementioned window, undoing the latch of one of the panes and letting it swing open, a cool, refreshing breeze immediately entering the room.
After taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air, he then took a seat behind his desk, swinging it to face Noya as he rested his elbows on the mahogany surface, pushing the ashtray away as an afterthought so the remaining smoke didn't get in the way.
“So, then. What brings you all the way up here? Without an appointment, no less. Are you looking to be hired, or is this simply a friendly visit? Because if you happen to be an old friend of mine or something to that effect, I'm sorry to say I don't recognize you.”
Linburn Streets
A young teen walked stiffly through the streets, clutching a bag of groceries in his right hand. He ducked and weaved between those that were passing by, albeit never once strayed from his exact facing and direction, his expression constantly impassive.
Despite his carefully calculated movements, he must have been lost in thought, as he felt himself heavily impact with someone he couldn't see.
He staggered back momentarily, dropping his bag onto the floor as he looked around for whoever or whatever he had hit. Odd. It had felt almost... fluffy.
His face showed absolutely no confusion or indeed any other reaction, but when he finally spoke up, his voice displayed otherwise.
“Hello? Is anyone there? I can't see you. Did I hurt you?” he asked the air in a concerned tone, his groceries momentarily forgotten. He was getting a few weird looks, but he ignored them. If he had hurt someone, he would wait for eternity if he had to if it meant avoiding hurting them again.
edited 3rd Jun '18 10:55:34 AM by Enirboreh
bork
Happy Box Hater
Gaunt's Books
"For the last time, just call me Tim," a man, presumably Tim, wearing a hoodie said irritably to the woman on the other side of the desk. He was expecting a somewhat pleasant exchange of words before she called him Fancy.
"Your fault for giving yourself such a ridiculous first name," his customer, and sort of friend, said with a small smirk. "I'm sure there were more normal names you could have chosen from that boo..."
"Manuscript."
"Close enough! My point is... Fancy Tim. You can't expect me to not use it."
Fancy Tim sighed. "Did you actually come in here to buy anything, Mary?" the walking corpse asked with annoyance. "Gaunt isn't paying me to make small talk." Not that there was any other customers in right now... or normally. To be honest, Tim had no clue how Mr. Gaunt was even paying him. Didn't matter to him, though.
"Come on, I was just stopping by to talk with my friend," Mary said with a completely exaggerated pout. "You looked so lifeless..."
"Buy something or leave," he offered in response to that pun. No way he was going to lie down and take that. Puns were where he drew the line.
Understanding that he actually meant it, Mary turned and started walking towards the exit. "You're no fun," she said without turning back. As she actually stepped outside, though, she cheerfully added "See you tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it," he responded sincerely. As much as she got on his nerves, Mary was one of the few things that broke up the monotony of his workday. Mr. Gaunt really had no excuse to run this place for how little business it got. There was no doubt he was getting his money from other sources. Not that Tim minded the long stretches with nothing to do, though. On the contrary, he made full use of his time.
Reaching his hand into his hood, the pale man tapped a finger onto his right temple. After a few seconds of waiting he had a worm in hand, which was put on the desk. Mary liked to joke that Apple was his co-writer, with how he always took the worm out of its "home" before working on the manuscript, but it was more about how he could get distracted by the feeling of motion in his ear canal. That bit of preparation completed, Fancy Tim took out his prized manuscript, paper, and a pen. Until he hears the bell ring of someone opening the shop's door, he'd be working on this passion project.
Why is a yam attacking me?
Hawthorn Park - Zima Savenko
While normally a good number of blocks away of her and her sister's apartment, for Zima, taking the Linburn Metro to the heavily-wooded Hawthorn Park was worth it on such an already bright, sunny morning. A decent jog through the park did wonders for the body and mind, the fresh air invigorating the former and the focus on the run clearing the latter.
It was the best she could hope for—for now.
Near the Metro entrance on Hawthorn Ave.
"Bozhe moy, weren't fucking joking about this," Zima mused at the humidity. Even with the trees lining the sidewalk, many of the passersby—mortals, a passing dwarf, and a very conspicuously-robed mage—wore some level of discomfort on their faces, a couple of them already starting to noticeably sweat. Zima, wrapping one lightly-frosted hand around the back of her own sweaty neck and the other running over her athletic magenta tank top to cool it as well, grimaced with sympathetic pity.
"Hello? Is anyone there? I can't see you. Did I hurt you?"
Zima paused at the Metro entrance. Taking a step to the side, she saw a clueless kid looking around the street—his bag of groceries simply laying at his feet.
Well. Time to be the good samaritan.
"Kid, you alright?" she called out to him, walking quickly to his side.
edited 3rd Jun '18 1:52:53 PM by BlackRevolver
Candelilla awoke with the sun shining down on her face, blinked her eyes open blearily, and gave a tiny yawn before starting to wriggle free from her papoose. She still wasn't sure if she was giving herself the right amount of rest or not. She'd looked up that newborns typically nap for about seven to eight hours during the day. She'd have to check, but she couldn't have slept more than twenty minutes either side of noon, if that. Any more, of course, and the sleeping space would be too tight to wriggle out of again. She's already split one authentic Algonquian baby bag open, and se wasn't about to go through another. Anyway, the napping. Thinking about it, she was still ageing through her slip so, technically, she was sleeping about four years, right? Pretty impressive for a baby that hadn't even had any meals in between, right?
Anyway, speaking of meals, it was probably about time for planning lunch. First though, time to get up and about. So Candelilla began the process of wriggling free from her papoose. Today, she'd chosen to rest up in the park, to get herself a bit of fresh air, sunshine, and nice scenery. She'd laid her resting spot in the middle of a short tree; sturdy, in the sun, but out of sight from any well-meaning nosy parkers. Now, she, a tiny baby in a tiny blue romper suit, was currently circumnavigating the branches and trying to pick loose the straps of the papoose. Once she'd gathered up the bag, she began attempting to clamber back down to earth. Steadily does it...one false move and she could fall and hurt herself. Then she might start crying, and that'd draw far too much attention. Or she could, y'know, die. That'd be worse, right?
Damned inconvenient, that was what it was. You try to set up a profitable, if not strictly legal, operation, and suddenly you get hamstrung, bound to given conditions, or in this case, a given city. Mistress Blackburn had heard no voice, followed no silent call. She wasn't the sort to be told what to do. If anyone had told her to go someplace, inside her brain or otherwise, she'd have gone the other direction, just to be awkward. No, it was the shop that found its way here, and now it was the shop that didn't seem to want to move past the boundaries of this blummin' city.
Well, fine. If she was going to be stuck here, then Mistress Blackburn was going to make the most of it. Any given metropolis was bound to be swarming with no-knowing charlies to set to rights, she just had to pick them out. To do that, she needed to get the lay of the land. She could stick to her old methods of divination, but to get a proper look into the city, it would be better to use the essence of said city. What was the most common, crucial element in the city? Why, stone of course. Good old, reliable earth. Forget wind or fire or wishy-washy water, you always knew where you stood on solid rock. So, geomancy it would be. Just needed to get the right materials ready.
All across the city, out of sight from anyone, the Old Curiosities shop would appear, and Blackburn would surreptitiously step out into the world to gather her earth. She might scrape some shavings off the side of a concrete building, chip a small bit off the side of a rough brick, gather the dust off the street in a dustpan and brush, or pick ordinary pebbles off a pathway with the air of someone looking for just the right pebble in just the right spot, even if nothing seemed 'just the right' about any of them. Every now and then, a bewildered stranger would come up in her direction, hand raised, but stop when Blackburn darted her gaze at them, glaring with an evil amber eye, daring them to comment. Then she looked back, and resumed her work in silence.
AKA Nixer
Gaunt's Books
The sound of a motorcycle rocketing past could be heard from inside the shop, shortly followed by a loud crash, a cat's scream, and a distant indignant shout of "MY CABBAGES" for good measure. There was the sound of rapid footsteps approaching, someone repeatedly cursing under their breath, before the door swung open, ringing the bell in the process.
A young woman dressed in a high-collared coat, combat boots, and a holster housing a twin pair of pistols sauntered in shortly after, covered in streaks of oil and a few red gashes. For someone who had literally just walked away from a traffic accident she looked surprisingly casual, even taking the opportunity to fix her hair, wincing as she pulled out a random bolt entangled within it.
She gave Tim a short nod as she went past, not even stopping to take in his appearance and immediately making a beeline for the history section, beginning to browse the shelves as if this was just a regular morning for her.
Outside, a smoking motorcycle sat up a tree, tire treads leading up to it from the road behind it, trailing off from a pile of at least fifteen cars and three trucks. How on earth Beatrix had ever managed to pull a crash of this scale off by a simple misjudged powerslide was an answer forever lost to time.
Linburn Streets
Ewan stopped at the sound of Zima's voice, turning his head directly towards her and tilting it slightly in curiosity. He didn't seem at all aware of her appearance, simply staring at her with a neutral, perhaps even distracted expression. In truth, he was absently wondering if she was cold.
“Yeah, I'm okay, but I think I ran into someone on accident. I can't see them, but they felt kinda fuzzy,” he explained in an innocent tone, shifting his gaze back to the empty air in front of him. “Can you see them? They were definitely there. I dropped my groceries, see?”
edited 3rd Jun '18 1:59:46 PM by Enirboreh
bork
Happy Box Hater
Gaunt's Books
Where was a thesaurus when you needed one? Tim wasn't a writer, that was the domain of the old guy whose brain was slowly being eaten. As much as he'd like to just grab something off the shelves to get some nice synonyms for this irritatingly verbose character, Mr. Gaunt was quite clear about his policy on that. Something about that man, despite his kindly eyes, made him very wary. Once he had some money to spare, perhaps he'd just purchase a thesaurus. Creator knows his boss could use the business.
Fancy Tim's musings on the right way for this stupid character to be described without verging into purple prose were interrupted by a lot of loud noise. Seemed like some sort of crash... and loud footsteps. For a person that could no longer feel the cold, a chill still went down Tim's spine. This felt like trouble.
Still, maybe it would be nothing. Somehow Tim just knew the best way to dodge trouble was to look as unassuming as possible... didn't work though. In walked a cliche. "The hell?" he muttered under his breath as he took in the new customer.
Involved in a horrible crash or not, Mr. Gaunt was quite clear about how he was to interact with customers. The corpse quickly scooped up Apple and inserted the worm into his ear. "Good morning," he said with his most artificial cheerful voice. Couldn't be rude to customers... even if he wanted to make a snide comment or two.
Tim really wasn't looking forward to the next bit, though. Aside from teaching him the importance of being polite, Mr. Gaunt had instructed him about certain things he shouldn't allow in the store. "I'm sorry, store policy is that no weapons can be carried on your person while browsing," he said with the perfectly controlled voice of someone faking perfect control. "I have no means to enforce that rule, to be honest, but I'd appreciate if you could leave your guns by the front. We have a box for this, enchanted so only the one who puts something in can take it out. Only until you make a purchase." This was dumb, he shouldn't be bringing up this rule. But it was the rule, and it wasn't like she could kill him, right?
Why is a yam attacking me?
AKA Nixer
Gaunt's Books
Beatrix paused, flicking her gaze over to the corpse for a moment before shrugging, pulling out her guns and throwing them behind her. They sailed through the air gracefully, performing a synchronized twirl, before landing in the box with a clatter. Thankfully, she had put the safety on this time.
Not even checking to see if they had landed, the walking cliché had already reached out for a particular book on the shelf, clicking her tongue in thought as she briefly flicked through it before clapping it shut, walking over to the counter and placing it in front of Tim.
“Just that, please. Hell of a morning rush today, I'll tell you what,” she commented idly, fishing out the money preemptively before stepping back and crossing her arms, tapping her foot as she looked around the shop. “Or... at least, it was...” she eventually added in an uncomfortable fashion, having the decency to look at least a little embarrassed. The scratches were already healing nicely, however, so that was all right. Granted, the same probably couldn't be said for those outside, but...
Her foot-tapping increased in pace. She should probably get to that job soon.
bork
Schrodinger's Human
Slums:
A blonde skinny girl who wore a surgical mask stood in front of a decaying apartment building. She was all too familiar with it, ever since she had joined the group called Cursebringers. The girl could see the walls decorated with graffitis, which said: “They shall return!”, and filthy windows. She opened the door which creaked and observed the familiar sight of peeled off wallpapers, litters on the floor and bloodstains. The air inside was filled with the stench of rotting corpses. “Home sweet home”, she muttered to herself as she strolled along the stains of red liquid.
The girl sung a song that did not have a melody or a rhythm. Instead, it was only a cacophony that a sane mind could not produce. The lyrics she spoke was not of any human language. Together with a creaking sound of a floor and footsteps from the girl, the song of dissonant harmony was born.
As she reached the second floor of the building, the girl arrived at the room where she was meant to be. She could already hear voices of her comrades… And a whisper of her own god.
“Welcome, disciple Josephine Engel!” A bald man who had his eyes covered with a bandage said to the girl. Josephine recognized him as Alistair Moore, leader of the local Cursebringer sect. Despite his lack of eyeballs, he seemed to be able to see perfectly, as the leader of the sect faced Josephine correctly.
The girl saw men and women of different appearances: some lacked their ears, some - their eyes and some had their faces burnt off. Josephine knew the reason behind their “injuries”: they were offerings to their deity. Cultists have sacrificed body parts they valued the most for the blessing of their god. The stench of corpses, which was spread across the whole building, came from them, along with the body that was beneath them. The girl took off her mask, showing a lower side of her face that was rotting, and bowed to them, as was the custom of Cursebringers. Soon, so did other cultists, smiling.
“I see that you have embraced the gift of Zarnathios”, said Alistair while preparing a mask that only showed color of pure white. “Excellent.”
Wearing the white mask, all cultists of the condemned apartment gathered around the circle, where inside lay the corpse of a man. Alistair, and soon other disciples, have started to chant in a language that not a sane being could comprehend.
Llurhuyaoebnjhd ijwbjfnewi
In those words, Josephine heard:
“The time for the false deity and his cold machines has come to an end. Let the Crow free all of those trapped in the twisted factory disguised as a house. Oh, great Zarnathios, Venerable One, hear our prayers, as we offer a meal for the Crow to feast upon.”
As they have finished their prayers, a small area of pitch black void formed right above the corpse. A large claw came out from the portal and took the sacrifice. There was not mistake. It was the Crow of Zarnathios itself. Those fools, believing that the Crow nothing more than an illusion of the mad, Josephine thought as she witnessed the monster harvesting its food. Still, we don't know what that red moon was supposed to be. It doesn't matter. Our goal as of now is to summon the Crow.... And I will watch the world burn.
“Now, there only remains three rituals for us to perform. It shall manifest in this Earth, and neither WORM nor the Knight Order can do anything to us”, Alistair exclaimed. Then all of them said in unison:
“For the return of Venerable Ones…”
Near the Gym:
Owen looked at his hand, which was covered with a black glove. He hid it to hide the decay that consumed his hand. It has not been that long since he had escaped the clutch of death. He had no idea on how and why it happened. But it did not matter that much for him.
They.... ruined me. They all took away my everything. Owen chuckled, as he imagined the "rightful retribution" he would enact and the joy that it would bring. That's what they'll get by messing with me. ME. They'll beg for their dear lives, and I'll do the same thing they did to me. Slow, agonizing death. They won't be strong enough to even think about coming back from the dead.
Owen saw Matthew approaching him in the distance. Matt, my dear, Matt.... Hopefully you'll be smart enough to get out my way.
"If you're wondering about the validity of that note I left you, then tell me. Have I ever lied to you?"
Everything that lives is designed to end.
Matthew - Seen a Ghost
Matthew's eyes widened as he walked around to the back of the gym, and as he stood there, arms slack at his sides, Owen was leaning against the wall of the gym. There was something...off, different about him now. Something somewhat unsettling. But Matthew at this point did not care. It was when Owen spoke in the voice Matthew remembered that he was fully convinced this was neither an illusion nor a hallucination.
This - no matter what - was indeed Owen Logan, and Matthew was keenly aware of how much he missed his mentor and dearest friend.
He wasn't even aware of bursting into a run - only that he'd brought himself right to Owen and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Tears ran down the younger jock's face, he'd missed his bro so damn much - seeing the death, the funeral, what Matthew deemed the sheer defamation of his big bro post-mortem...
"Bro...bro...I missed you. I-I knew, I knew you couldn't just...just go, like that..." Matthew was choking up - after a difficult, lonely time growing up, it had been Owen that really brought him into the social scene, helped him make friends. "I really missed you, man."
Happy Box Hater
Gaunt's Books
When the customer pulled out her guns at a distance from the box, Tim had a horrifying premonition of getting shot. Luckily, she was just pulling off an impractically flashy throw. How does one even throw a gun into a box so you can browse for books and look flashy? If he found this in his manuscript he'd have a lot less respect for the old him.
Didn't even take a minute for this problematic individual to select a book. Glancing at the title, the corpse felt a bit baffled. It wasn't the subject matter, though he wouldn't have pegged her for a history type, but the fact that he was 99% certain that book wasn't there this morning. Yet another odd moment out of the hundred that had occurred since he began working here.
"Fine then," he grunted, pushing past the unease. As he dealt with the transaction, Tim asked brusquely "You normally cause multiple injuries in the process of getting a book?" He disliked these types. Bright like a candle, but when you burned so strong you tended to last half as long. Should really stop causing problems for other people.
A small feeling of unease washed over Tim. He looked at the shelf where the book was taken from... no gaps to suggest anything missing from them. "What the..." he murmured... Oh right, the customer! "Excuse me, it's nothing. Have a good day, I suppose, and don't forget your guns."
Why is a yam attacking me?
A Squid
Lindburn. A wonderfully peaceful place, for the most part. Mages and nonmages, humans and Oldkin, giant crow and everyone else, it seemed all was at relative ease.
Meanwhile, down one not very busy street, a cloaked man (cloaks had come back into fashion with magic), entirely nondescript, walked down its length, carrying a small piece of cardboard with him. He was holding it so the rune he had drawn on one side was facing him, away from prying eyes. The rune, if one managed to catch a glimpse of it, was complicated and drawn with what might have been blood (not his), so it's good that no one did get a glimpse of it.
At the end of the street was a small building. Not the local Mage Union Headquarters; just a small outpost in the city. But the cloaked man had heard a rumor, a rumor that it held a single magical artifact. And he was in the business of acquiring things like that.
Reaching the end of the street, he continued down to the right, then ducked into an alleyway. The alleyway led around to the back of the outpost. Before he reached the back of the outpost, he had apparently managed to procure a golden mask from somewhere. Its eye sockets were large, allowing some sight of his pale face, and it had a demonic grin that stretched from one ear to the other. By the time he was in view of whatever surveillance they had behind the outpost, it didn't matter. His face was covered and his plan was in motion.
Striding swiftly, he went up to the back wall of the outpost, took the runed cardboard in his hands, and pressed it against the wall. Then, with one hand, he pressed the center of the rune. It began to glow brightly, then fizzed out. The cloaked man did not seem disappointed, however, and quickly walked a good ten feet down the alley before bowing his head and crossing his arms.
An explosion suddenly and violently erupted from the rune, blowing down the wall and incinerating the cardboard it had been painted on. After a few seconds, the cloaked man strode into the hole in the wall, cracking his gloved knuckles. Time to get to work.
He only had minutes before authorities arrived, if even that, not to mention the mages already in the building. Speaking of which, one was coming down the hallway now, a look of bewilderment and hostility on his face. The other mage raised his hands up in a fighting pose, his fists glowing with what was recognizable as a form of energy magic. The cloaked man fumbled underneath his cloak and came out with a small piece of paper, upon which a blood red symbol had been inscribed. The other mage tilted his head quizically, then came in for a punch straight to the head. Just before it connected, the cloaked man held the paper right in front of his face, and as the fist connected with it, it suddenly went rock solid, stopping his punch in place. Confused, he took a step back, retreating back into his stance, but curiously, the paper stayed connected to his fist, then suddenly crumpled itself and began to grow, enveloping his arm. He stumbled back as it began to grow around his neck, then his face. His eyes showed terror for the few seconds before it enveloped them too. He collapsed to the ground, struggling, then went slack after a few seconds. Unconscious, not dead.
And, already, from the hallway to the right, he could hear the sound of apparently wood clanking. From the hallway emerged a large wooden marionette of some kind, blank eyes gazing down on the intruder. The cloaked man instantly recognized it as powered by an animator of some kind in the building. And behind it came another mage, possibly the animator, though this new mage clearly showed ice powers, frost spikes growing out of her arm. The cloaked man sighed. He had expected trouble, but a wooden golem just seemed excessive.
The first thing he did was to take a runed knife out of his cloak. The knife had a nonlethal poison coat; useless against the golem, but practical against the mage, if he could get past get ice powers.
What the knife could do against the wooden golem was burn it, as there was a small branding rune on the pommel of the blade. The wooden golem came in first, swinging its left arm heavily at the cloaked man's head. The cloaked man ducked, came up, and promptly was nearly killed by an ice spike that smashed against his mask instead of impaling his eye. He stumbled back, dazed, and ducked again as the golem swung at him again. He rolled under its swing and came up facing the ice mage, who responded with an icy punch towards the gut. A bad move when facing a knife-wielding opponent, as the cloaked man simply held the knife in front of him and slashed across her fist, cutting through the ice and slicing her fingers open. She cried out, in pain, and retreated to let the golem do its work.
Turning back to the golem, the cloaked man immediately jumped as it went for a sweeping kick, then dodged to the left to avoid what would've been a shattering jab. He took his knife and jabbed the pommel into the golem's leg, where it burned a small circle into him. Not enough to stop him, however. The golem grabbed for him, and the cloaked man instead slid past him, then jumped on his back. Holding the pommel to the golem's throat, he held on as tight as he could as the golem attempted to throw him off. Slowly, the pommel burned a larger and larger hole in the golem's neck. Suddenly the golem collapsed before it even burned a large hole. The cloaked man brushed himself off, then went into the other room. As he suspected, the ice mage, who must've also been the animator, had fallen unconscious due to the nonlethal poison on his knife.
Quickly, before any other mages could find him, he strode across a couple empty rooms until he found what he was looking for: a safe. Then he took out a piece of chalk and began inscribing something into the top of the safe. After a minute, it was finished, and he put his hand on the rune. It glowed for a second, then his hand began sinking into the safe. Slowly, he reached in, and then, equally slowly, he pulled his hand out, bringing with it what appeared to be a bowl, a small, copper bowl. Still, it was what he sought. Quickly he went back through until he was at the entrance he had made and beat a quick retreat.
Suddenly maskless again, he walked quickly the opposite way, despite a few people looking at him suspiciously, got away clean. The whole operation had probably taken less than ten minutes. One step closer to his goal. If this truly was the artifact he believed it to be...
AKA Nixer
Gaunt's Books
She nervously laughed at his comment, biting her lip uncharacteristically and rubbing the back of her head awkwardly. “Er... not really... anyway yes accidents happen and all that crap seeya!”
With that, she ran out the door, tucking the book in her jacket as she went. A few seconds later, it busted open again, the walking corpse's reminder apparently not having registered until a few seconds after she had already left. Snatching up her guns from the crate and holstering them, she rushed out for the second and final time, the distant sound of sirens audible as the door slowly swung back closed.
After an extensive wrestle with a tree, she finally got her bike back down, which was naturally in perfect working order after haphazardly thwacking its bodywork with a hammer. Hopping on, she quickly sped off, not once looking back at the destruction she had left. Once she was around the corner and making rapid pace, she finally allowed herself a sigh of relief.
Never make detours like that again. Next time apply the brake more. That was clearly where she had gone wrong.
Linburn Docks
Upon arriving at the location, Beatrix quickly spotted her targets, weaving to the side so as to make a beeline for them and bracing herself in preparation. Seconds before impact, she backflipped off the motorcycle, letting it careen wildly through some of the gang.
Time seemed to slow down as she corkscrewed through the air, the gang leader barely having time to mouth an "OH SH-" before his face promptly turned to raspberry jam by courtesy of a bullet between the eyes.
She landed into a roll, immediately springing back up onto her feet and rapidly shooting each gang member down one after the other in an alternating pattern, letting the bullets nick her skin and only ever moving in a significant fashion in order to dodge the would-be fatal hits to her vital organs. She showed no sign of stopping or even flinching at her quickly worsening injuries, only for the ruthless murder streak to finally be cut short at the last guy, her guns clicking uselessly as they evidently decided to mock her to her face by running out of ammunition at the worst possible time.
Typical.
The guy cracked his eyes open, his fear dissipating and being swiftly replaced with relief and subsequent mockery as he raised his own gun to her head.
“Hah... HAH! You stupid bitch! I'll kill you for this!” he roared, a tone of confidence and assured victory creeping into his voice.
She stared down at her weapons blankly, looking up at him before shrugging, ejecting the magazines with a flick of the wrists.
“...Ah, #$&% it.”
The empty pistols promptly impacted the guffawing gang member at high velocity with a painful sounding 'clunk', causing him to stagger backwards from the impact. Beatrix promptly shot forward at an inhuman speed, leaping into a vicious spinning kick that sent him sprawling into the earth, his already injured skull slamming against the ground in the process and instantly knocking him out.
Walking over him, she picked up her guns, twirling them and slipping them back into the holster as she looked back to survey the chaos.
...Yup. That was a lot of jam.
An odd thought to have at the sight of such carnage, but it helped distract her. Which was necessary to focus properly in this line of work.
Although 'work' was admittedly stretching it a little...
“...God I need a coffee.”
Yes, she would inform her client of the successful mission after said coffee break. Her tolerance with dealing with such people had been completely sapped for today.
bork
Where am I? What's going on?
Sisyphean Tasks and Talismans
Sammy was back in her humanoid form within seconds, idly muttering to herself.
“Right, right, the flooring, I keep forgetting... maybe I can do something about that...”
At Dana’s question, the slime smiled and thrust her newly created charm into her fellow witch’s face.
“BEHOLD! With this, I, the great sorceress Sammy Wilde, will finally solve my detestable pest problem! All that remains is the testing phase!”
With that, Sammy made to leave for the trash cans, but stopped when a customer walked in. Normally, this wouldn’t have concerned her; she wasn’t employed here, she made her living selling precious metals. However, there was something about this man. A vague sense of danger that made her want to flee in the other direction.
But fleeing wasn’t Sammy’s style. And besides, she had plenty of quick getaway options if the man actually threatened her. So after a pause of several seconds, she visibly relaxed and called to the store’s owner.
“Hey, Dana, you’ve got a customer!”
Linburn Streets
Logan had stood still for a moment as he encountered an old shop he used to visit. Maybe he wondered here subconsciously without realising it, nostalgia is one hell of a drug. In his paused dwelling he failed to take note of a teenage boy approaching who rammed into him.
He immediately took a few steps back after the collision, he was going to retreat until Ewin said "Hello? Is anyone there? I can't see you. Did I hurt you?" Those kind words put Logan in a pause for a moment though the next words he heard from another source "Kid, you alright?" from an approaching woman caused him to start moving again. While the teenager had no ability to see him, the dragon in human form did see Logan (though the wolf was not aware Zima could see him, thinking she was just another human).
Logan retreated into an alley on the street. Maybe it was time he returned to the underground, the boy would just shrug off the mysterious feeling he had eventually if Logan left the area, right?
edited 3rd Jun '18 9:57:54 PM by JustaUsername
Some people say I'm lazy. It's hard to disagree.
huzzaaaaaaaah
Axel Tower
Noya had to hold back the urge to go and stare out the glass panes, but in the end it was worth it, for they had something else to gasp at: someone wearing a very nice suit. They slowly walked towards the desk as Axel revealed himself, before finally clapping gently at his response. "I'm sorry! It's just that you look very pretty today, and even though it is not good for you and I worry about your health, the cigar made you look even better!" They said, giggling as they finally reached the desk.
Pulling up a chair closer, Noya perched themselves up on it, trying to find the right position to get comfortable in. "There we go!" They exclaimed, looking more like a gargoyle than a person trying to sit down. "Is it okay if I sit like this? I like doing things my way, but some times people find it too weird, and I don't want to be a bother. In fact, thanks for letting me come up here! It sounds like you're busy, and from what the woman downstairs said, it also sounds like you might be having a bad day, so the fact that you'd be okay with seeing me means a lot. Anyway..."
They clapped their hands once, closed their eyes and smiled as much as possible. "I've been hearing a voice in my dreams for the past two weeks, telling me to come to this city and meet the man they call Axel! Is that you?" A beat, followed by one of their eyes opening. "Is it okay if I call you Axel?"
Gaunt's Books
The day so far had been, in a word, exhausting. First, Leliel had accidentally ordered 6 loaves of bread instead of 1 while not paying attention (and cancelling delivery, of course, had its own fees). Then it had learned that the delivered bread was due to expire in less than a week, so it had to find a way to get rid of nearly all of it. Then it realised that after finally finding someone interesting to assess, the only hint of their location was that it was a bookstore. After compiling a list, Leliel had fourty-seven bookstores to look through that were open on that particular day! And this was meant to be after it narrowed its search down to the most reasonable areas!
So it came to pass that Leliel (or, as it had taken to calling itself as a 'human', Damien Morringwood) had 4 loaves of almost-expired bread to get rid of as it searched for that one stupid bookstore for 3 hours. It was still throwing the last few crumbs at the veritable army of pigeons behind it as it strolled past a girl recovering her motorcycle from a tree (a phenomenon it lacked the patience to investigate), and into Gaunt's Books.
Within, Damien, in better control of himself despite still fuming internally, practically threw his hat onto the coathanger, keeping the coat on (and buttoned up enough that you'd need to actively examine Damien to realise his chest was more a vague region of fire and clockwork than a torso containing normal organs). He took a few seconds to appreciate the fact that the store even had a coathanger, then removed his sunglasses (revealing his eyes that were frankly more like orange lightbulbs), placing them into a pocket so he could get to work. He picked a bookshelf at random and scanned it for one particular title, then, failing to find it, muttered to himself, and picked the next bookshelf at random. If left alone, he could do this for multiple hours, although it very rarely took more than 20 minutes for somebody to react.
Sign-Up Thread
- Discussion Thread
- Discord
Linburn
The moon was red, and the giant crow loomed over the city of Linburn.
Or rather, it is the saying of certain individuals. Witnesses of this peculiar event say that this is a sign of things to come. Most, however, believe that these are nothing more than ravings of the mad which can be easily ignored. Still, all residents of Linburn (with the exception of very few) admit that there have been some inexplicable changes to this city, mainly the upsurge of supernatural population of the city. Mages, Gods, Rotten Beings, dragons and other individuals who are more than human have felt the lure to Linburn, its whispers. Some have not been exactly welcoming of increase of supernatural population, while others accepted the growth of this city, with some staying apathetic to this.
Is it a plot of the mastermind? Or is it just another natural magical phenomenon? Either way, change is coming. A change that might affect the entire world.
Besides this, the life in the city went on as usual, with humanity and oldkin living in a relative harmony. In the streets of Linburn, one could see mages and humans interacting with little signs of animosity. After all, Linburn is famous for its peaceful community.
For now, that is.
edited 3rd Jun '18 3:15:50 AM by kaalban
Everything that lives is designed to end.