Multiverse Crisis MUSH - User contributions [en]

3140/Bitter's Way

2015-10-03T12:17:21Z

AhmarMetaf: A report to a comrade-in-arms turns into attempting to help a comrade in arms with an issue.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2015/10/03
|Location=Njorun Station - The Skygarden
|Synopsis=Shadowed Aesthetic of Quicksilver, one of Bitter Medicine's comrades and fellow member of the Five Optimal Solutions, has come to report to his Soulsteel brother-in-arms about the condition of Autochthon after unification. Shadowed Aesthetic discovers his comrade has a bigger problem however, and does what he can to fix it.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=569, 872
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     It's difficult to find time between all the things that are going on, to locate one's allies. Particularly if one has been incommunicado for a while. While Shadowed Aesthetic hasn't been for a while, he's been unable to locate Bitter Medicine, an ally from Autochthonia. Fortunately there's a database of Union members, and Shadowed Aesthetic managed to find the Soulsteel Regulator in the database.     He'd sent Bitter Medicine a message that he'd finally been cleared to enter the Multiverse. And he'd offered a meeting to catch up. Where else? In Njorun's Skygarden. If Bitter Medicine was unaware of Shadowed Aesthetic's liking of greenery, it's not likely to stay a secret much longer.     Particularly because, when Bitter arrives in the Skygarden where the meeting is supposed to take place, the Moonsilver spy is sitting on the ground, taking a careful look at a flower growing nearby. What? Shadowed Aesthetic of Quicksilver CHOOSING to sit on the ground where he'd get dirty?! Can this be?! He's sitting with his legs folded under him tailor style in the robes he favors, one hand carefully holding the stem of a not-picked flower to examine it more carefully. 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      A long shadow falls over the flowers, darkening them. Behind Shadowed Aesthetic stands Bitter Medicine, every bit as tall as when the two of them were part of the Optimal Solutions. His arms are crossed, but not in disapproval. It's simply his way to look so imposing, much as it's Aesthetic's way to be elegant and proper. There is something different about him, though--where Aesthetic seems to have gained an appreciation for greenery, Bitter Medicine has finally found something to wear other than his Regulator outfit. Work boots, rough denim jeans, a baggy flannel shirt, and a canvas jacket. He... looks rather like a biker, if bikers were prone to having pallid flesh.      "Comrade. I was not surprised to receive your message." His greeting is spoken flatly. "It is no secret that I have failed to live up to expectations on my own. Gulak no doubt wishes to replace me with a more suitable Champion." His eyes bear down on the sitting Moonsilver with their usual weight, peering at the flowers and observing Shadowed Aesthetic's interest in them. "Your missive didn't mention when I would be recalled." 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     If Shadowed Aesthetic had been paying attention he might have seen Bitter Medicine before the long shadow appeared. But he wasn't, and suddenly a shadow. It's not sundown yet, is it? Then again, he's actually inside a building, which the Moonsilver keeps having to remind himself of. Of course, he has a way to see what's going on without turning.     As his hand comes away from the flower, one of the gems in the not-quite tiara that looks like it's fused to his skin gleams oddly. And he smiles. Easily he gets to his feet, dusting off his robes, and then turning. "It's good to see you again, comrade," he greets, that smile still on his face.     And then Bitter Medicine mentions being replaced. The smile mutes a little, though it doesn't fade, and the Moonsilver tilts his head in confusion. "Not to worry, comrade. I wasn't given an order to recall or replace you, nor have I heard anything negative said of you in Gulak," he assures the Soulsteel.     Though that brings another concern. Bitter Medicine didn't really open up about his feelings much, so it was usually pretty difficult to know what was going on in his head under most circumstances. This is a pretty blatant loss of self-confidence. So Shadowed Aesthetic thinks about what to say for a moment. It's just a momentary hesitation, "Has something happened? I actually came to report on what information I've gathered so far regarding the long-term consequences of the unification, but there really isn't much to report. If something's happened on this side of the Seal, that's likely a more pressing concern." Spinning it not as 'talk about your feelings of inadequacy' but as 'I'm concerned that something bad has happened'. that way Bitter Medicine will feel less like he's being put on the spot. 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      Upon hearing Shadowed Aesthetic's response, Bitter Medicine raises a brow, surprise playing across his severe features. "You've heard nothing?" Of course, the Moonsilver has no reason to lie. But, surely, Gulak must be displeased with his weakness. Why else would they send another Champion, if not because they felt he was inadequate? "Not even from the Populat? No... idle gossip during recreational hours? I know you don't often visit the factory cathedrals, unless it's official, but... surely you've heard something."      He furrows his brow, his expression darkening. Perhaps there /is/ reason for the Moonsilver caste to lie. It's their speciality, their own version of the deeds the Soulsteel caste are called to perform. Perhaps it's not replacement he should fear, but recycling. Fear... fear isn't the right word. He should face it, and own up to his failure. Bitter Medicine turns his back on Shadowed Aesthetic, folding his arms behind his back. The uniform may not be there, but the posture betrays his honorary membership in the Regulators.      "You don't have to hide it, comrade. I'll come peacefully. If Gulak believes my weakness to be a result of..." Gremlin Syndrome. It almost leaves his lips--out of habit, as if he were standing in Autochthonia, he silences himself. There are no Autochthonian ears here to hear the secret, to hear that even the Machine God's champions can succumb to the sickness. Ever loyal, Bitter Medicine still sidesteps it nonetheless. "It's better that my soulgem goes towards the creation of better, stronger Champions. After my long string of failures and my embarrassing performance in the World Martial Arts Tournament, I can only imagine Gulak's place among the Octet has suffered." 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     Shadowed Aesthetic shakes his head. "No, I've heard nothing of that sort, from anyone. If anything's been said in that direction, it's not been made known to me. All I've heard is how strange the rest of the Multiverse is." Though he pauses as Bitter turns his back. He tilts his head again, observing the Soulsteel carefully-- the set of his shoulders, the taut line his back makes. Whatever's bothering him, its really messing with him.     And then it comes out. The WMAT. Shadowed Aesthetic hadn't been able to get free to see Bitter Medicine's performance in the tournament in person, unfortunately. But records of it exist. Still though, he'd heard nothing of the sort.     The mention of recycling gets a wide-eyed blink, though Bitter may not see it since his back is turned. "Oh I've definitely heard no mention of anything like that. I'd have protested if I had," he notes. "Besides, do you see any other nation sending their Champions out to interact with this Multiverse? I've heard none of the rest even allowing theirs to leave Autochthonia."     The smile comes back, and Shadowed Aesthetic crosses his arms as well, but over his midriff instead. "You worry too much, comrade. I actually ''asked'' to come here, to see how you were doing. Not well, from the sound of things. But I do understand your concern. Ever since setting foot outside the Seal I've seen things I could never have dreamed of, not in any life. With a near infinite number of worlds in existence already, and more coming in all the time, there's just no way a single Champion can conquer it all."     Here he chuckles. "Besides, if there was any talk of replacing you, it wouldn't be with me," he teases. "You know I'm no match for you in a battle of strength. So don't worry so much. As far as I'm aware your only true failure was just now. You sound like you're giving up. Very unfortunate. So it's a very good thing that I keep secrets well." He gives a mock-conspiratorial wink. 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      The consolation isn't lost on Bitter Medicine. His posture seems to ease a bit, as if gradually, something inside him fled and left. It's not so severe a change that he seems outside of his usual grim demeanor, but the words have assuredly helped. He regards Shadowed Aesthetic with a look over his shoulder, measuring him, as is his way. "You've made your point," he says bluntly.      With a rumble, he turns around fully, arms hanging at his side. "I just assumed everyone would be displeased. There are so many people out there stronger than me--perhaps there are some more clever than you. That doesn't... make you feel unable to serve? It makes me feel that way. It isn't just Gulak watching, or even Autochthonia."      "People out there are watching. Enemies. If the Machine God's best are so easily dispatched, what of his charges? The mortals we're sworn to protect? Our land, our resources?" 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     Shadowed Aesthetic's easy smile returns, and he folds his hands before him again when Bitter Medicine seems to relax. The words would seem rude coming from anyone else. But he knows that's Bitter's way, to be blunt. If he'd meant for the Moonsilver to shut up he'd have said exactly that. Besides, the tension in Bitter's shoulders has eased, it's a clear enough sign that he's a little more at ease.     Bitter Medicine's concerns are finally aired then, even if it's aimed more as 'aren't you worried' moreso than 'this is my problem'. The easy smile stays there while he listens quietly. But he does nod.     "That is a frightening prospect," he admits. "One's tempted to ask 'if we can't stop them, then who can'? But it's a question we don't have to answer. We're still here, defending the Maker as well as we can. In the end, everyone contributes their best. No one does a job alone if they need help. It's in no one's best interests. If you did your best, no one can reasonably fault you."     Unspoken is, of course, 'even yourself'. 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      The Soulsteel caste chuckles with a decidedly, well... bitter tone. "I don't agree." Indeed, if his best isn't good enough, it must mean he's not good enough. And if that's the case, it's simply a question of being better. "Maybe that works for Jade castes giving speeches on the factory floor, but we--the Razors and the Scourges--have to be self sufficient. There's no /team/ in the Reaches. There's no one beside you to pick up the slack on a deep cover mission. If I'm not good enough, the problem is with me, no matter what anyone says."      "'You did your best' doesn't matter when people die. When someone dies, when someone's hurt because I wasn't good enough to save them? It's /my fault./" He raises a finger to elaborate on a further point, but lowers it. "I need upgrades," he says flatly. "I've tried to meditate and master my Essence, but the insight won't come. As expected." The dour Alchemical crosses his arms. "The one thing about our existence that can't be changed for something better within 25 hours."      "It's... frustrating, comrade. When you try with all your might to surmount something, and watch as your Charms buckle and break under the strain--the very act of trying to match your enemy nearly tears you apart. How do mortals live every day of their lives like this? It makes me feel worse than inadequate. It makes me feel incomplete." 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     And still Shadowed Aesthetic smiles. "You sound like Voice now. Though with exactly the opposite intent, of which I'm glad," he notes, amused. But the amusement comes not of his friends discomfiture. He does listen, and he's agreeing with a lot of it. He pauses, thinking. A mortal would inhale and hold the breath while waiting for what to say. He doesn't, but only because he doesn't need to. He doesn't inhale until he's determined at least partially what he's going to say.     "...It's hard," he admits. "Back home, when the Maker decided to put His foot down, so to speak, we came in the wake of the decision and assured that whatever it was, stopped. Out here in the Multiverse though... there are powers that are exactly that for other worlds. And exactly the opposite of that in other worlds too. We are not the authority here in the Multiverse. That in itself is hard to accept, that we are 'just like everyone else'."     "Maybe that's the core of the problem," he muses. "Here in the Multiverse, we are as Mortals are within Autochthonia-- 'just like everyone else'. At least, among Elites. We are neither the strongest nor the weakest. Do you know, when I went to investigate that strength floating world where they saw the human figured in the clouds, I was amongst the weakest in the group? I was too polite to complain. The shift in thinking is so hard to adjust to."     Shadowed Aesthetic is a talker, it seems, as he has more to say. "But be that as it may, remember... this isn't the Reaches. And you do have allies now, in this Multiversal Union. There are surely a few that would even go with you to the Elemental Poles themselves if required. So yes, here there /is/ the possibility of a team." He raises a hand, taps at his bottom lip thoughtfully. "But, even with that. It wouldn't hurt to learn more about this Multiverse. Maybe we could all do with a refit, once we learn more." 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      "You can recycle me if I ever sound like Voice of Authority with the same intent. But I see what you're getting at, Aesthetic." Perhaps it's better to experience loss and defeat now, rather than later, when much more valuable things may be at stake. "It's an uncomfortable thought, but necessary for our survival. Much like myself." It's never been unlike Bitter Medicine to make a joke--they're usualy just extremely dry.      Has he ever accepted his allies? Has he treated any of them, save for Defiant, as equals? Probably not. "Just like everyone else... it'll take some getting used to. I'm glad you're here, comrade." 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     Shadowed Aesthetic actually chuckles quietly at Bitter's opinion of sounding like Voice of Authority. "Oh I don't know. You could do with a bit more arrogance, couldn't you?" He is absolutely teasing Bitter now. "Do need to worry, if you start sounding like that, I'll give you a few kicks to the backside before I send you for recycling, how's that?" Bitter's sense of humor can border on morbid sometimes, but Shadowed Aesthetic is willing to go down those dark paths for the sake of a joke, too!     Though he sobers as the Soulsteel echoes his words, expresison returning to that easy smile. "It will. For all of us. I have some experience thanks to my training. I was taught to blend in, to at least pretend to be like everyone else," he notes. "But I do know this. Even those that are 'just like everyone else'... they're everything to at least one other. So it's not as though having others that are as strong as you will mean you aren't important. Strength is not everything to some."     The smile takes on a fond, friendly note when Bitter acknowledges he's glad Shadowed Aesthetic is there. "So am I. I was worried that you might be having some trouble. I'm glad I can be here to help you out." 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      "I think my arrogance has gotten me into plenty of trouble already. The problem is that you don't always recognize it. It's like the common roaches back home--you'd be surprised all the places it can fit and not be seen." Much of his trials could have been lessened without his insistence on being better than others. "It will be good to have another Alchemical Exalted here. If you haven't already, I'd suggest speaking with Finna. She is a Chosen of Luna. Their organization is... strange, if it exists at all, but she has access to a wealth of information about Creation that could advance our relations considerably." 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     Another chuckle at the mention of Arrogance having gotten him in trouble. However, Shadowed Aesthetic is polite enough not to agree. But the mention of Finna gets an, "Oh?" But he does nod. "That sort of knowledge will do great things for Autochthonia, yes," he agrees. "What sort of information do you have on her? Is she with one of the superfactions? Or is she independent? If she's in the other, that could prove... awkward, at best. Painful-- probably physically-- at worst." 

:'''{{#var:569|Bitter Medicine (569)}} has posed:'''      "She is a member of the Union, although at one time she was independent. Her Charms are unusual, as are those of most other Exalted I have met. Evidently, theirs are learned--not implanted. They have no physical form, and we are the exception. When Finna learned that my Strength Augmentations were real and physical things, you'd think I told her to grow a second face... something she could probably do, now that I consider. But--we can talk more later, comrade. I'll send you a missive in Autochthonic with my personal radio frequency if you need me." 

:'''{{#var:872|Shadowed Aesthetic (872)}} has posed:'''     And there's the look Bitter knows from when his Moonsilver ally is picking up information-- very slightly tilted head, purple eyes trained on Bitter, brows raised with interest. The mention of Finna's Charms having no form gets a blink. "They just... are?" He's not sure how that's possible.     But he nods at the mention of getting Bitter's personal radio frequency. "I'll have to give you mine as well. I only recently tuned to the Multiversal frequencies. There's so many." He smiles, though, a content smile. More quietly he offers, "But I'm glad you're all right. Call me if you need my help, or just want to talk." And then he teases gently, "I know the latter isn't exactly your purview, but the offer stands nonetheless." 

}}

Wandering Flame (Auron)

2014-11-15T09:41:55Z

AhmarMetaf: Oops. Fixing a few small errors

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/11/15
|Location=Njorun Station - Medical
|Synopsis=After almost bleeding to death and being saved by the virtue of Ayeko's healing water, Auron has a funny dream. Or is it a dream at all...? (OOC: Censored language warning.)
|Thanks=Armsmaster, anyone in the Leviathan scene
|Cast of Characters=236
|Tinyplot=
}}
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/4jOuqpF.jpg" alt="So we meet again..." style="float:right"> 
<center>(BGM: "[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32J5Grszxio Wandering Flame]")</center> 

        It's not the first time Auron's been at death's door. The last time he ended up going through it. And then coming back, to keep promises to Braska and Jecht. 

        This time he was stopped before he went through. The effect of the SENTIMENT'S SLICKER kept him from bleeding to death out there. Though Ayeko's healing water had kept him from dropping dead when the effect wore off. And he was able to get to Union Medical -- albeit barely -- so he was in good hands when it finally did. 

        Doesn't mean he's in that great of shape, though. He'd been bleeding out consistently for Fayth only knew how long. How long did it take them to defeat the Endbringer Leviathan? Too long. When he 'shut off' the coat, he had immediately passed out from pain and blood loss. So for now he's confined to bed, pale from blood loss, hooked up to medical machines he didn't know the function of. At this point he doesn't care, though. He really can't. Mainly because he's rather deeply unconscious. 

        But he can hear something. A voice. Male. And it's instantly familiar. 

        "...Hey." 

        That voice... how is that possible? 

        "Hey!" 

        Louder now. Closer. But it's too dark to see. 

        "Might help if ya opened yer eyes." Pause. "Or, well. Eye. Ah, f**k it, y'know what I mean." 

        ...Yeah, that probably would help. Doesn't stop him from firing back at that voice, "...Jackass." But there's no venom in his voice. It's familiar teasing by now. But at least he can see now. Or well, he will be able to when he opens his eye. 

        And when he finally does, he sees... 

        Flowers. 

        A field of tall grass and flowers, ringed by rocky cliffs with waterfalls rushing down them. Softly wailing pyreflies loop lazily between the flowers and under the waterfalls. The Farplane? He hasn't died, has he? 

        As if the owner of that voice had read his mind, the reply comes, "Nope. Not yet." 

        Auron looks forward. His remaining eye widens. It's definitely someone he knows well. 

        "...Jecht." 

        Sure enough, there he is. Lopsided smirk and all. "Yup. Surprised?" 

        That's putting it mildly. "How...?" 

        "Y'came pretty close ta dyin' out there," Jecht remarks, crossing his arms. "Hadn't been for the water lady, ya woulda. Still ain't learned howda throttle it back, huh?" 

        Auron smirks. "And you ever did?" 

        "Pfft!" Jecht hisses. "I'm the Great Jecht! Can't nothin' keep me down for long!" Auron chuckles. "You onna other hand," Jecht notes, poking Auron's chest firmly but gently, "needa watch it. Yer still human. 'Till ya croak again, anyway. An' it ain't quite'cher time yet." 

        As he says the last, Jecht's image begins to fade. 

        "Wait..." 

        Jecht just shakes his head. "Don't worry, man. The time'll come," he assures Auron. His voice gentles as he adds, "Don't rush it. Ya got a chance t'live again. Use it. Then come back an' tell me all about it. We c'n swap stories then." His voice returns to his normal brash tone as he notes, "An' we'll see if ya can top my stories!" And then he begins to laugh merrily. The sound of Jecht's laughter begins to fade quickly... 
                * * * 

        ...Replaced by silence broken by intermittent beeping. 

        "...Sir Auron?" 

        That's not Jecht. That's a woman's voice. Fayth, his eye is too heavy to open. C'mon, eye. You're the only one he has left, it's all up to you! More seriously, Auron keeps trying to open his remaining eye, until he sees a slit of light. Ow. That hurts. Too bright. But at least he can see. 

        He looks up. A blonde woman. Oh, he recognizes her. The ex-Summoner from Bevelle. The one with the lady Guardian who could break most Spiran men. Gisenia? That's right. That's her name. 

        "Are you awake, Sir Auron?" 

        He can't speak yet. Can't force any words out. He nods, slowly. Ow. Fayth, even that hurts! 

        Gisenia smiles. "Good. We've got Crusaders in the city, helping with search and rescue, and rebuilding. The healers tell me you were pretty badly hurt, and that you'll be out of commission for a while. But they seem to think you'll make it." 

        Auron nods again, slowly. Ow. 

        Seeing the wince, Gisenia pats Auron on the arm gently. "Rest for now. Concentrate on recovering your strength. I need to go inform the others that you've awoken." 

        ...'Others'? 

        That causes another wince. He completely forgot about that. He'd have some explaining to do when he recovered. That he was alive wasn't common knowledge in Spira. He hadn't even told Gisenia who he was. And she mentioned others. Oh Fayth, he hoped she hadn't told the Crusaders... 

        ...How the hell is he going to keep this from blowing up in his face?

Wandering Flame (Auron)

2014-11-15T08:05:50Z

AhmarMetaf: After almost bleeding to death and being saved by the virtue of Ayeko's healing water, Auron has a funny dream. Or is it a dream at all...? (OOC: Censored language warning.)

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/11/15
|Location=Njorun Station - Medical
|Synopsis=After almost bleeding to death and being saved by the virtue of Ayeko's healing water, Auron has a funny dream. Or is it a dream at all...? (OOC: Censored language warning.)
|Thanks=Armsmaster, anyone in the Leviathan scene
|Cast of Characters=236
|Tinyplot=
}}
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/4jOuqpF.jpg" alt="So we meet again..." style="float:right"> 
<center>(BGM: "[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32J5Grszxio Wandering Flame]")</center> 

        It's not the first time Auron's been at death's door. The last time he ended up going through it. And then coming back, to keep promises to Braska and Jecht. 

        This time he was stopped before he went through. The effect of the SENTIMENT'S SLICKER kept him from bleeding to death out there. Though Ayeko's healing water had kept him from dropping when the effect wore off. And he was able to get to Union Medical -- albeit barely -- so he was in good hands when it finally did. 

        Doesn't mean he's in that great of shape, though. He'd been bleeding out consistently for Fayth only knew how long. How long did it take them to defeat the Endbringer Leviathan? Too long. When he 'shut off' the coat, he had immediately passed out from pain and blood loss. So for now he's confined to bed, pale from blood loss, hooked up to medical machines he didn't know the function of. At this point he doesn't care, though. He really can't. Mainly because he's rather deeply unconscious. 

        But he can hear something. A voice. Male. And it's instantly familiar. 

        "...Hey." 

        That voice... how is that possible? 

        "Hey!" 

        Louder now. Closer. But it's too dark to see. 

        "Might help if ya opened yer eyes." Pause. "Or, well. Eye. Ah, f**k it, y'know what I mean." 

        ...Yeah, that probably would help. Doesn't stop him from firing back at that voice, "...Jackass." But there's no venom in his voice. It's familiar teasing by now. But at least he can see now. Or well, he will be able to when he opens his eye. 

        And when he finally does, he sees... 

        Flowers. 

        A field of tall grass and flowers, ringed by rocky cliffs with waterfalls rushing down them. Softly wailing pyreflies loop lazily between the flowers and under the waterfalls. The Farplane? He hasn't died, has he? 

        As if the owner of that voice had read his mind, the reply comes, "Nope. Not yet." 

        Auron looks forward. His remaining eye widens. It's definitely someone he knows well. 

        "...Jecht." 

        Sure enough, there he is. Lopsided smirk and all. "Yup. Surprised?" 

        That's putting it mildly. "How...?" 

        "Y'came pretty close ta dyin' out there," Jecht remarks, crossing his arms. "Hadn't been for the water lady, ya woulda. Still ain't learned howda throttle it back, huh?" 

        Auron smirks. "And you ever did?" 

        "Pfft!" Jecht hisses. "I'm the Great Jecht! Can't nothin' keep me down for long!" Auron chuckles. "You onna other hand," Jecht notes, poking Auron's chest firmly but gently, "needa watch it. Yer still human. 'Till ya croak again, anyway. An' it ain't quite'cher time yet." 

        As he says the last, Jecht's image begins to fade. 

        "Wait..." 

        Jecht just shakes his head. "Don't worry, man. The time'll come," he assures Auron. His voice gentles as he adds, "Don't rush it. Ya got a chance t'live again. Use it. Then come back an' tell me all about it. We c'n swap stories then." His voice returns to his normal brash tone as he notes, "An' we'll see if ya can top my stories!" And then he begins to laugh merrily. The sound of Jecht's laughter begins to fade quickly... 
                * * * 

        ...Replaced by silence broken by intermittent beeping. 

        "...Sir Auron?" 

        That's not Jecht. That's a woman's voice. Fayth, his eye is too heavy to open. C'mon, eye. You're the only one he has left, it's all up to you! More seriously, Auron keeps trying to open his remaining eye, until he sees a slit of light. Ow. That hurts. Too bright. But at least he can see. 

        He looks up. A blonde woman. Oh, he recognizes her. The ex-Summoner from Bevelle. The one with the lady Guardian who could break most Spiran men. Gisenia? That's right. That's her name. 

        "Are you awake, Sir Auron?" 

        He can't speak yet. Can't force any words out. He nods, slowly. Ow. Fayth, even that hurts! 

        Gisenia smiles. "Good. We've got Crusaders in the city, helping with search and rescue, and rebuilding. The healers tell me you were pretty badly hurt, and that you'll be out of commission for a while. But they seem to think you'll make it." 

        Auron nods again, slowly. Ow. 

        Seeing the wince, Gisenia pats Auron on the arm gently. "Rest for now. Concentrate on recovering your strength. I need to go inform the others that you've awoken." 

        ...'Others'? 

        That causes another wince. He completely forgot about that. He'd have some explaining to do when he recovered. That he was alive wasn't common knowledge in Spira. He hadn't even told Gisenia who he was. And she mentioned others. Oh Fayth, he hoped she hadn't told the Crusaders... 

        ...How the hell is he going to keep this from blowing up in his face?

Just a Migraine... (Eric Bane)

2014-09-30T14:37:28Z

AhmarMetaf:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/09/30
|Location=Urbania
|Synopsis=Eric is running out of time...
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=550
|Tinyplot=
}}
Eric hisses in pain, gripping at the sides of his head. These headaches are getting more frequent. And more painful. The angel is nowhere to be found. Whenever she appeared she took away the pain. But she's been suspiciously absent of late. Leaving him to the mercy of the pain. And the sensation that someone was attempting to mine his skull for diamonds. With a pickaxe.

He knows what it is. Why the headaches are getting worse. Why they hurt more and more each time. Why blood is increasingly not enough. But he doesn't want to acknowledge it. Because the truth is too frightening to think about. And there's really nothing he can do anyway.

The truth? He's running out of time. And he knows it.

Without having drank his creator's blood he's on a fast-track to becoming a mindless flesh-eating abomination. He still doesn't remember much about where he came from. Or what had happened leading up to him being turned into a vampire. Much less who had turned him. Just a vague memory of shooting at something as it teleported across a large warehouse. Closer and closer. Then teeth and darkness. That's it.

Behind the dumpster Eric curls in on himself a little more. He pulls his knees closer to his chest and tries to keep silent. Things are starting to blur together in a vague wash of colored lights, loud sounds, and pain. So much pain...

"Hey man. Y'don't look so good." He can hear the lack of sincerity. Smell the gunpowder.

...Crap. Not this again.

Eric tilts his head up to look at the other man. Grungy and torn clothes, beat-up shoes, and an uncertainly-held gun. Probably a down-on-his luck bum who just thinks it's a good idea to turn to robbing people to get by.

A voice inside his head insists that no one would miss him. That it will be a kindness to get rid of him before he becomes a real problem for someone.

"...I don't have any money."

The man before him pauses. And Eric says nothing either. He doesn't flinch away from the gun in the slightest. It's a weird kind of standoff. Eric looks up at the man with the gun. His blood vision activates of its own accord. For a moment he stares at the place where the other man's pulse was the strongest. Suddenly the pain turns to a white-hot burn in his chest...

His eyes flash...

He snarls and bares his teeth as he begins to rise to his feet.

The man screams in fright.

By some miracle the man with the gun doesn't shoot Eric. Instead he drops the gun and runs away. Eric doesn't follow. Instead he drops back down to the ground. No. No. No. His hands clench into fists and he presses them against the side of his head again as he closes his eyes. He keeps repeating the word to himself. No. No. No.

Only by pure luck had that worked out so well. Anywhere else-- anyONE else-- would have shot him immediately. Probably killed him. Eric opens his eyes and stares at the gun. Will that be his fate? Will someone have to put a bullet in his head to stop him one day?

Eventually the pain passes. Feels like forever. But it eventually does. Eric sighs and curls up. He needs to find a vampire powerful enough before it's too late. But if the vampire's more powerful will he be able to best that vampire for its blood? Because they're not going to just GIVE it to him. At least that's been his experience so far.

Buh. Quit thinking. Just get moving.

Just a Migraine... (Eric Bane)

2014-09-30T14:37:00Z

AhmarMetaf: Eric Bane is running out of time...

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/09/30
|Location=Urbania
|Synopsis=Eric Bane is running out of time...
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=550
|Tinyplot=
}}
Eric hisses in pain, gripping at the sides of his head. These headaches are getting more frequent. And more painful. The angel is nowhere to be found. Whenever she appeared she took away the pain. But she's been suspiciously absent of late. Leaving him to the mercy of the pain. And the sensation that someone was attempting to mine his skull for diamonds. With a pickaxe.

He knows what it is. Why the headaches are getting worse. Why they hurt more and more each time. Why blood is increasingly not enough. But he doesn't want to acknowledge it. Because the truth is too frightening to think about. And there's really nothing he can do anyway.

The truth? He's running out of time. And he knows it.

Without having drank his creator's blood he's on a fast-track to becoming a mindless flesh-eating abomination. He still doesn't remember much about where he came from. Or what had happened leading up to him being turned into a vampire. Much less who had turned him. Just a vague memory of shooting at something as it teleported across a large warehouse. Closer and closer. Then teeth and darkness. That's it.

Behind the dumpster Eric curls in on himself a little more. He pulls his knees closer to his chest and tries to keep silent. Things are starting to blur together in a vague wash of colored lights, loud sounds, and pain. So much pain...

"Hey man. Y'don't look so good." He can hear the lack of sincerity. Smell the gunpowder.

...Crap. Not this again.

Eric tilts his head up to look at the other man. Grungy and torn clothes, beat-up shoes, and an uncertainly-held gun. Probably a down-on-his luck bum who just thinks it's a good idea to turn to robbing people to get by.

A voice inside his head insists that no one would miss him. That it will be a kindness to get rid of him before he becomes a real problem for someone.

"...I don't have any money."

The man before him pauses. And Eric says nothing either. He doesn't flinch away from the gun in the slightest. It's a weird kind of standoff. Eric looks up at the man with the gun. His blood vision activates of its own accord. For a moment he stares at the place where the other man's pulse was the strongest. Suddenly the pain turns to a white-hot burn in his chest...

His eyes flash...

He snarls and bares his teeth as he begins to rise to his feet.

The man screams in fright.

By some miracle the man with the gun doesn't shoot Eric. Instead he drops the gun and runs away. Eric doesn't follow. Instead he drops back down to the ground. No. No. No. His hands clench into fists and he presses them against the side of his head again as he closes his eyes. He keeps repeating the word to himself. No. No. No.

Only by pure luck had that worked out so well. Anywhere else-- anyONE else-- would have shot him immediately. Probably killed him. Eric opens his eyes and stares at the gun. Will that be his fate? Will someone have to put a bullet in his head to stop him one day?

Eventually the pain passes. Feels like forever. But it eventually does. Eric sighs and curls up. He needs to find a vampire powerful enough before it's too late. But if the vampire's more powerful will he be able to best that vampire for its blood? Because they're not going to just GIVE it to him. At least that's been his experience so far.

Buh. Quit thinking. Just get moving.

518/Monsters and Candy Don't Mix

2014-08-31T04:32:28Z

AhmarMetaf: A village in the Eastern Valley is harvesting their crop of gumdrops (which are literally gumdrops) when a very hungry Spiran fiend decides to crash the party.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/30
|Location=The Eastern Valley
|Synopsis=A village in the Eastern Valley is harvesting their crop of gumdrops (which are literally gumdrops) when a very hungry Spiran fiend decides to crash the party.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=236, 535
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     The Eastern Valley is a peaceful part of the usually chaotic place that is the Multiverse. This town in particular is happy -- they're just bringing in their harvest today. What are they harvesting? Oddly? Gumdrops. Yes, /gumdrops/. This is their yearly crop of gumdrops. So there's a LOT of them, of all different colors and flavors. The air is thick with the sticky scent of sugar.     It might be notable that there's a strange phenomenon in the air here. The wind seems to be carrying tiny motes of light with watery contrails. The motes make a soft wailing noise. Though it doesn't appear to be natural, either, since the townspeople seem quite confused about it. Though a few children are chasing the lights and attempting to catch them. Those who do quickly let go -- they're /freezing cold/! 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' The little mini-tour of various Union allied places carries on, as Ziggy goes about gathering information of various places for Doctor K. The magic realms, in particular, were, to put it mildly, 'fascinating'. Currently huddled up in his leather jacket, shivering a bit, hands tucked underneath his armpits, Ziggy just looks around. "This place is a -candy wonderland-, Doc...!" he comments, teeth chattering. "Ranger Series Operator Green, would you please move your hand from underneath your arm pit? I have no desire to see a closeup of your secondary sexual characteristics," Doctor K's voice crackles from Ziggy's rev morpher communicator. "I note you are cold. From what I can tell, you should be able to morph. The suit's insulation properties should work fine." "Oh, the spandex'll he--- I didn't mean to say..." "IT IS NOT SPANDEX!" "The fabric'll help." Bringing his left hand up in front of him in a pose, Ziggy flexes. "RPM! GET IN GEAR!" The resulting explosion behind him -may- have tossed a poor innocent bunny up in the air, but it's unharmed, really! No animals were harmed in any morph, ever. The same cannot be said of grinders or soldiers... Tapping his helmet, Ranger Green looks about. "Much better," he says. "So... they -grow- gumdrops here. It looks like a childhood drawing, only real..." 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     The field has been partitioned off for different flavors to be grown in different sections. Perhaps to keep them from mixing flavors. "That's right!" one of the villagers harvesting them says. It's probably quite hilarious, but the flavors seem to grow similarly to their real-life fruit counterparts. As the harvester points out. Pointing to some green and purple ones growing in bunches on vines, "There are the grape drops." Then to the pink and light red colored drops growing like strawberry bushes, "Strawberry drops." Darker red growing in bunches on small trees, "Cherry drops." Orange-colored ones growing on larger trees, "And orange drops. We grow more kinds but those are our main crop."     As the villager explains, the motes of light become thicker in the air. It's actually starting to get creepy. And there's a growing feeling in the air, one of being watched. Figment sounds soon follow, soft grunts and hisses with no apparent source. And it doesn't take long before the children are being herded inside buildings. The very air seems to hold its breath. It feels like something's about to happen... 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' The handy thing about the suit was... "Look, Doc, I can pick up the gumdrops without frostbite now," Ranger Green exclaims, grabbing at different flavors with his white gloves, going from segregated area to segregated area. "Thank you," he calls out to the villager explaining things. "But how do -sugar- end up shaped like these on trees and plants in the first place?" Pulling his helmet off, Ziggy tucks it under an arm and gives it a shot, taking a bite. "Aaaa, it tastes -real-. AND COLD. Well, not like... Doc? You're quiet, what are you seeing there?" "A burst of glucose breakdown in your system, as normal. It seems that you've just inhaled refined sugar. I don't know -how- a plant is doing that. Bring back some for analysis." "You just want to eat some, don't you, Doc?" There is no response, and Ziggy grins as he pops a few more drops into his mouth, before the lights multiply. "Uh... what's going on here?" Ziggy asks, eyes widening as he puts his helmet back on. 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     "I... I don't know. This has never happened before," the villager replies, looking around in surprise. Then suggests, "Maybe something went wrong with the crop this year?"     Another harvester pipes up, "You think the crop's bad? Oh man, I hope not. If we can't sell these things there's no way we're going to break even this year..."     Suddenly the motes coalesce, gathering into a mass. The mass takes horrible shape. And then a monstrous, ape-like creature appears in the motes of light. Even hunched over, the creature still stands about nine feet tall. Its arms are literally twice its height, and end in giant, three-fingered hands with a raptor's grabbing claws. It stands on two legs that are scaled like a bird's (like its hands, too) but are digitigrade and end in three sharp black claws.     The creature roars and charges into the gumdrop patch, using its long arms and giant hands to forcefully swat away anyone in its range. It doesn't seem to be concerned with the people for now, choosing instead to focus on the gumdrops. For /now/. 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' "Uh... what -is- that thing?" Ranger Green asks, eyes widened behind his black visor. "How am I supposed to fight something like -that-? It's all ARMS and HANDS!" "Blaster, then axe," Dr. K coolly responds. "Don't let it grab you..." "I wasn't asking -you-, Doc! I was asking the natives! Because, you know, maybe they know what this thing is...! Oh... just yell at me, I've got to stop that thing before it starts eating... wow, that's a hell of a mouthful, it's a wonder it hasn't frozen its tongue to a tree yet. I mean, it's got to be like licking a lamp post..." "I take it from the way you speak," Doctor K asks archily, "that it's not an experience unwholy unfamiliar to you?" There was no response as Ranger Green fires off a shot with his blaster, before converting it into an axe, and charging in! 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     The natives? What natives? As soon as that thing appeared the people here scattered, making for the closest reinforced building. Thankfully the monster seems content to munch on the crop for now. That is, until Ziggy shoots at the thing with a laser, and then darts at with the an axe! The laster gets the beast's attention, and it roars angrily, turning to see what could possibly have hurt it! And what it sees Ziggy, it starts to flail its arms wildly, massive hands balled into fists and swinging at the Power Ranger. 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hands to yourself, buddy!" Ranger Green exclaims, as he does his best to jump, evade, and... "AAAGGH!" Sparks fly as Ziggy is knocked backwards, twisting in mid-air as somehow an explosion occurs behind him, apparently a backlash from the morphing field backfiring through his suit due to the tremendous blow impacting on him. Landing on the ground, Ziggy raises his back for a moment, then slumps. "Ooooooowwww." Clutching a hand to his chest, the axe somehow remaining firmly in his hand, Ziggy staggers up. "What is -that- thing, Doc?" "It appears to have possessed the souls of pyreflies. You're confronting a fiend of some sort, according to the Spiran records," Dr. K responds. "You may want to retreat." "No way, Doc... these people haven't got anyone else right now. By the time we get back with help, they'll have lost their crop." Bringing his arm up with the axe, Ziggy says, "So I'll just have to do my best!" HIYAIIIII! And Ranger Green goes back to brandishing the axe, slashing here and there whenever a hand grabs at him. 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Ziggy's axe appears to be working! In fact, it's one of the only things that appears to be able to penetrate the armored scales on the thing's hands and arms. Lasers appear to bounce off harmlessly. Those scales are REALLY strong. The creature staggers back, as if injured... but then pounds its hands on the ground and roars, both its tongues flailing in its large, open mouth. Uhoh. Looks like it's REALLY mad now!     Fortunately it looks like Ziggy won't have to face this one alone. From the direction of the warpgate there's a sound. An engine? Sure enough, a personal transport comes into view not too much longer, with a man atop it. It's a man in a red coat, gray breastplate, gray pants, and heavy boots. A single-edged zweihander is strapped across his back.     Here's something interesting: if anyone's scanning the approaching man, he has the same basic energy patterns as the monster. Not as in, he and the monster are the same stuff. But their basic energy readings are similar. That in mind, it's very likely that this man is probably Spiran.     He quickly brings the transport to a stop, far enough away that the battle won't destroy it, and then dismounts, heading over quickly to where the fight is happening. The first thing he asks is, "Are you all right?" 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' That Ranger Green was basically flailing with axe wildly rather than with measured strokes, it was fairly apparent that the person in the suit was just not a trained fighter. Still, at least he was making contact, and getting a bead on -when- to swing (i.e. every time that thing just brought its down!) "Doc! It's breathing on me and it smells like -gumdrops-!" "That was what it was eating, Ranger Green. Stay focused." "I'm trying! It's trying to do a ground and pound! I'm going to end up being a shark scallopine at this rate!" The arrival, on the other hand, is greeted with a welcome "Thanks! Do I look all right to you? I'm still alive, that's what matters! How do I get near this thing to hit it on the head?" 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Auron pauses, looks to Ziggy. He can't really tell if the other fellow's all right or not, given the outfit and helmet. But nobody's 'all right' trying to solo one of these things! As for the question? "You don't. Its head is armored too. Its underside isn't. We need to knock it over. Its legs are too small for it to get up immediately, and it'll be vulnerable until it gets back up." Given the use of the word 'we', it appears that he intends to help. And if there was any doubt? "I'll try and crack the armor on its hands. See if you can knock it onto its back while it's distracted."     That said, he pulls that one-edged sword from his back and releases his left arm from his coat with a shrug. He pauses to concentrate, and then darts at the beast. An odd yellow gleam slides down his blade as he swings. Auron is slow enough that his swing is anticipated by the monster, and it brings its armored hands down to block.     This turns out to be a bad idea. When his blade impacts, a small explosion happens on the armored hands, and cracks begin to show where it hit. Not only that but the thing is flailing its arms now, looking much like a person shaking their hands over their heads when burnt. However, this also leaves it unprotected. Ziggy can probably just rush in and flip it over while it's like that. If he hurries! 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' "Flip it over...? What is it, a -crab-?" Ranger Green incredulously asks, hands down at his hips in a 'what, are you KIDDING me?' gesture, before he brings his hands back up to clasps the shaft of his axe. "Well then..." Um, how was he supposed to...? OH. Running, Ranger Green leapfrogs Auron quickly, keeps running, and dives underneath the fiend. And then he -stands up-, with arms above him, using the axe as leverage. RANGER TWO-HANDED POWER POSE! Cue dramatic music as the fiend flips through the air...! 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Dramatic music! Slow-motion! Explosions in the backgro -- no wait, this isn't Bayverse Fantasy! Either way, the fiend flips in the air! Being topheavy, as it comes down, its top side is attracted towards the ground first. So when it falls, it's on its back. Its legs flail uselessly, and due to the fact that its arms are placed closer to its front than its sides, it can't quite get enough leverage to flip itself back over onto its feet! "Its underbelly is exposed. Attack now!" Auron directs. 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' And ... there! It's flailing! Ranger Green does a total pose... before pointing at himself. "What, me?" Usually Ranger Red or Ranger Black got to do the DECISIVE FINAL BLOW. And Auron's dressed in -red and black-, which just gives Ranger Green cognitive discordance. Oh well! Bringing the axe up, Ranger Green spins around, leaps into the air dramatically, and brings the axe down... into a flash of white slash-light! 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Auron doesn't answer the question with anything verbal. He merely gives an affirmative grunt. Fortunately Ziggy's moment of hesitation doesn't give the thing enough time to get back up. A flash of white arcs through the sky as Ranger Green's axe cleaves into the beast's underbelly!     However, the expected blood and viscera... just doesn't happen. The flesh parts neatly, like he'd cut into a particularly hard rubber eraser. The creature shrieks in agony, its flailing increasing for a moment. And then it seems to curl in on itself where it lays on the ground, limbs shuddering... and then falls lax, hands and feet falling to the ground, dual tongues lolling out.     It's not through being weird, though. The body seems to turn into what looks for all the world like a white, three-dimensional shadow. Those motes of light begin to rise from the body, and as they make wailing trails through the air to parts unknown, the 'shadow' seems to lose cohesion. Until after a few moments, it's completely gone. The motes of light are gone, too, as is the weird feeling of being watched.     Looking to Ziggy, Auron nods once, politely. "You did very well. Thank you," he offers quietly. A pause, and then an explanation, "That was a fiend. An Eater. Ever since Spira unified, fiends have been popping up at random intervals all across the Multiverse. I apologize that you were caught in the middle." 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' Ranger Green wasn't exactly expecting blood and viscera anyway, a result of dealing with monsters that were mechanical in nature. Still, Doctor K was getting a lot of new information about spirits and pyreflies and Spira in general. Rubbing the back of his helmet, Ranger Green noddnods, his axe returned to blaster form at his side. "It was absolutely no problem, citizen! The Power Rangers... er, Ranger Green thank you for your assistance! You, um... you're the Ranger Red or... Black... for this universe?" 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Auron raises the brow of his remaining eye at the question. 'Ranger'? It's a word he's heard before, but he's never seen a ranger dressed like... well, like that before. Most of the ones he's seen have been in military fatigues, or wear a cowboy hat. And that's obviously not a military uniform.     Notably he takes a moment to answer the question, and when he does, it's somewhat hesitant. "...I'm not known by color." He kind of is, but it's the coat and the style he wears it he's known for, not so much its color. "Not of this place, no. And not anymore." Pause. He tries to keep new people to the Multiverse from freaking out during their acclimation period -- and Ziggy is relatively new, as far as he knows, though Auron's heard his voice on the radio before -- so he's going to try to use that terminology.     "'Ranger' is your rank? You are a protector of your world?" He nods. "I was once the..." Long pause. "...Guardian... Ranger... of my world." Did he really say that? Well, it's appropriate; he did end up with legendary status. Somehow. "I no longer hold the rank, though I do still protect my world." 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' "Oh. Well, the Power Rangers... kind of is a rank, I suppose, though we go more by numbers. I don't know why. It's like... "Ranger Series Operator Green', for me. Though others are 'Ranger Series Operator Black' or 'Red'... just easier to call us Ranger Green, Black, whatever." Pushing a button on his morpher, Ranger Green de-razzes into his leather-jacketed form, a rather skinny-looking fellow with wild hair. "Ziggy Grover. It's a pleasure to meet a Guardian Ranger, then. Guess a ranger by any other name is still a ranger?" 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Auron says nothing to the explanation, but he did hear it. He was looking right at Ziggy, so he had to have. "We don't use the word 'Ranger'. We call them Guardians," he notes. A pause as Ziggy introduces himself. He offers a polite nod of his head, his remaining eye closing for a moment. He looks back up, offering in response, "Auron. Good to meet you finally." Not only has he mellowed out quite a bit since his tenure as an Unsent, but he's also learned a little about small talk. 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' "Right. Guardians, that's good. I like that." Hmmmm. Ziggy considers that, as he lifts the arm with the morpher in front of him. "POWER... GUARDIANS!" Hmmm. Nope. Lifting the arm again, Ziggy tries a different tone: "GUARDIAN POWER! Hey.. that actually has possibilities. Maybe if Doctor K wants to make new suits..." "Ranger Series Operator Green, I think you've talked enough. Kindly stick to making acquaintances with Auron," the voice crackles from Ziggy's communicator attached to the morpher. "Oh, right. Um, you're not much of a talker, right? I can't see your mouth, and usually people who cover their mouths don't seem like they're willing to talk. I mean, like Doctor K here, she's a girl of few words. Pretty hard when she's our..." Here Ziggy does air quotes. "'mentor'." There is an audible -click-, followed by a blink from Ziggy. "Doc? Doc? Wait, you're going to leave me out here without the suit? It's getting cold... Doc?" 

:'''{{#var:236|Auron (236)}} has posed:'''     Auron listens to the conversation and remains quiet. Which probably is not a surprise. "Likely not, given that response. Or lack thereof," he notes, raising the brow of that eye sharply. Bit of Guardian Snark there! It's not scathing; it's merely a gentle prod. He didn't quite get to introduce himself to Dr. K, but between Ziggy and her, he got the idea she knows who he is now.     Anyway, the subject of the temperature comes up. Though Ziggy's complaint makes him chuckle a little. "With the crop safe, and you being the one responsible, I don't think the people here would object to letting you warm up inside," he suggests. In fact... he looks towards the collection of houses, and people are poking their heads out to see. Aside from some damaged gumdrop plants, there's even no trace of the monster to pick up! That's sure to make them happy. 

:'''{{#var:535|Ziggy Grover (535)}} has posed:''' Taking a deep sigh, his shoulders slumped down, Ziggy looks back at Auron, then at the houses. He perks up, then. "Oh, right, right. Hey we saved their crops. That's important." Lifting a hand, Ziggy waves. "Come on, Auron, let's get warmed up. And then I've got to find a way back home. Although..." Ziggy looks back up at Auron with wide eyes. "Think they'd let me take some gumdrops home? I think I'm going to need them." 

}}

504/Warehouse Blowout Blast

2014-08-27T14:19:18Z

AhmarMetaf: Moving to yet another prospective hunting ground, Eric Bane meets one of the local heroes. And some of the local villains.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/27
|Location=Brockton Bay
|Synopsis=Moving to yet another prospective hunting ground, Eric Bane meets one of the local heroes. And some of the local villains.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=550, 554
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      BROCKTON BAY      DOCKS DISTRICT      NIGHT      Armsmaster is out on night patrol. It's not unusual for him - after all, it comes easier to him than the politics and the hand-shaking that comes with being the commander of the local Protectorate group. In his midnight blue and silver powered armor, helm and visor concealing all but his chin and mouth, he almost blends into the darkness.      That is, if he wasn't stepping off a sleek-yet-imposing motorcycle and making for one of the dilapidated warehouses that have become a common sight within the Docks. He forces the warehouse doors open with a thrust of his Halberd - the spear-like weapon being longer than he is tall - and steps inside. He is here, after all, on a mission.      The Azn Bad Boys - the ABB - have been testing the waters. Again. Brockton Bay exists in a fragile state; the substantial cape villain elements are allowed a certain amount of 'freedom'. Quelling them entirely is too troublesome and would catch too many innocent lives in the crossfire.      Inside the warehouse, there's a number of young east asian men - all wearing the same colors, red and green. Halberd ready in one hand, Armsmaster booms his command: "You are all out of line, and many of you have warrants for your immediate arrest! Leave now, and this does not go any further!"      Not one of them moves, but they don't move towards Armsmaster either... Hmm. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     ...What a time to get lost.     One the bright side, Eric had found another modern city that wasn't like Urbania-- i.e., the size of a '''planet'''. Not only that, but this place seemed to be infested with the criminal element. Multiversal hunting tends to go a little sideways more often than not. It's hard to tell who's an Elite and who isn't. His natural 'Jedi Mind Trick' doesn't seem to work on Elites, after all. And they seem to be made of more things than just meat. Which '''really''' puts a damper on his ability to hunt. This place, with its surplus of criminals, shouldn't miss one or two, right?     Just one problem. These criminals seem to be of the 'not completely human' kind. Supernatural, like Eric. All the more reason to be careful. But he's not giving up his hunt just yet. In fact, he'd tracked some of them to a warehouse, using his teleportation through the shadows to remain unseen. He was just about to start picking them off when...     ('Shit.')     Sounded like a cop. That's the '''last''' thing Eric needs right now! He's in a bad position to see where that cop is, and he needs to get a bead on the guy. Eric creeps around behind a stack of boxes in the warehouse, finding a good place, and Shadow Leaping over to that location. But his passage is not completely silent. Rather, where he appears, there is a distinctive 'whf!' sound. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      One of the men turns around at the sound of Armsmaster's voice, revealing themselves not to be a man at all. The woman is wearing some sort of combat armor and what looks like a combination of a deep red trenchcoat and kimono. Her long black hair falls around a mask with a pair of red lenses. In one hand, she casually holds a grenade launcher - which is fitting, given that she has multiple grenades wrapped around her body on bandoliers and belts.      "So nice of you to join us, Armsmaster." While she has an obvious Japanese accent, the mask makes her sound like some sort of evil robot. "Too bad the boss isn't here to give you a proper welcome."      "Doesn't matter. You're coming with me, Bakuda. Straight to the Birdcage."      "Mmm, I don't think s-" Bakuda pauses, and turns in the direction of that 'whf'. "You brought a friend? That's not like you, Armsmaster, you gloryhound you."      When Armsmaster turns, incredulous expression hidden by his silver visor, Bakuda hurls a grenade at him. It bounces off the back of his helmet and detonates - leaving a frozen sphere of ice in the air, jagged and pointed, which quickly drops to the ground. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Hunt is probably skunked. So, priority number two comes into play. Which would be making sure Mister Hero over there doesn't get killed. Especially not due to '''Eric's''' interference. Hopefully that lady-- holy crap, that was a chick?!-- is distracted by this 'Armsmaster' guy, Eric peeks out from behind the boxes to get a bead on his location.     He teleports to the side of the lady with the grenade launcher. A normal-looking man in a dark colored hoodie, black pants, and sneakers. Just long enough to try to '''punch''' the grenade launcher, dark purple energies swirling around his fist. Hit or miss, after he makes the strike, with another 'whf!' sound, Eric disappears, hopefully before any retribution can happen.     Seems potshots are this guy's style. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      The grenade launcher goes flying out of Bakuda's hands, clattering over on the other side of the warehouse. With a mechanised gasp she hisses, "Rude!" She doesn't appear to have much in the way of powers, however, and so Eric gets away scott free.      For now.      Armsmaster twirls his Halberd around, pointing the tip in Bakuda's direction. "Last chance for clemency, Bakuda. Surrender."      Bakuda pulls a pair of grenades from her belt, one in each hand, and rolls them along the floor. One detonates, casting the entire warehouse into pitch black darkness - like a thick cloud. The other sets the whole place vibrating. "Wait right there, Armsmaster," Bakuda sing-songs, "I need to find that friend of yours!" 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Crap. Now Eric can't see. Even with low-light vision, he needs to be able to at least have ambient light. That grenade of darkness rather made it impossible, though. Only one thing to do, then, and he hates it. He pauses long enough to concentrate focusing bloodflow in his eyes. And he can see the humans in the building, his eyes picking up the bloodflow in their bodies. It's handy, but that godawful glowing neon purple gives him a headache sometimes.     He should be able to see the humans in the room, did they remain when the darkness hit? Can he even see Bakuda? He hopes so. God only knows how the new ways his senses work are going to interact with the Multiverse and all the weirdness in it. Either way, he's going to try to take down one of her followers. His method? Sneak around boxes again, try to get close, and knock one of the humans out. He'll be trying to do this and then get back into hiding so he doesn't get shot to death! 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      Bakuda's men appear to have remained exactly were they were. If anything, they seem less terrified of the halberd-wielding hero and his 'backup' then they do of their boss. Bakuda sticks out, too, and the bloodflow is rushing through her body. She's pumped.      He might also glimpse Armsmaster too, as the blood circulates through his body while he spins his Halberd. He points the haft of the weapon in the direction of the darkness grenade, and a quick EMP burst disables the device. Before he does that, however, Eric manages to knock out one of Bakuda's henchmen.      "Oh," Bakuda states, turning her masked head in the direction of her knocked out minion. "I really wish you'd leave them alone. If you touch one of them again, I'll detonate the bombs inside of them. I think maybe you should show yourself, whoever you are, or otherwise I might just do that anyway!" 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     ...Nothing can be simple, can it?     Hm. That crazy chick needs to be neutralized, and fast. Eric's honestly less concerned about the people and more concerned about not being blown up himself. Also, Mister Hero over there will probably make a huge mess if he gets explodified. Not to mention the BS it's likely to cause with the media. That other guy has all the aplomb of a television super hero. Which, in the Multiverse, likely means that he actually is.     Well, she did say not to touch her minions. And for Eric to show himself. So, well. She may just get what she wants. Always be careful what you wish for, they say.     A Shadow Leap sees him heading right for where she is. It's a stream of darkess zooming through the air at her. He'll reform right in front of her. But she'll only get a look for a split second. Probably just long enough to see his blue-white eyes and the fangs past parted lips as he propels himself into a shadow-strengthened backflip kick!     Unlike when he normally does this, he's not aiming to kill her. He has a feeling that Mister Hero over there would have some objections to that. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      Brockton Bay exists on superheroes and villains playing a more adult version of cops and robbers, so, Eric's deductions appear to be correct. He plants his foot squarely on Bakuda's chest and the masked villain is sent hurtling backwards, crashing into a wooden crate. "Ungh!" Bakuda snaps, anger carrying through the filter loud and clear, "You think you can '''fucking''' touch '''me'''?! Do you have ANY idea who I am!?" She's screaming now, reaching to her bandolier and hurling a grenade in Eric's direction. She's accurate, with a really good arm, and when it hits the ground it detonates.      This one isn't anything special. It's just a flashbang.      Armsmaster's helmet protects him from the worst of it, and he charges Bakuda, swinging his Halberd in a wide arc-      Only to be intercepted by a muscular, shirtless man, his body covered in intricate tattoos of Asian dragons, fragments of the wall he had charged through spinning around him. He carries Armsmaster with him, power armor and all, trapping the hero in a furious melee. Lung ducks backwards, evading a terrific swing of Armsmaster's Halberd. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Both the flash and the sound are really painful. But the flash of light is more upsetting than the sound, Eric finds. If it didn't '''hurt like hell''', it'd probably be an interesting thing to think about. Eric emits a cry and staggers back, instinctively seeking out a darker spot while his eyes recover. Ow! That really hurt!     Leave? Yeah, that's starting to look like a good idea. He's outnumbered for one. For another, once he can see again, he realizes that big guy who just joined is probably capable of taking them both on. Not exactly the best circumstances. Fortunately, Lung's dynamic entry point provides a perfect line of sight with outside.     Eric melts into the shadows, traveling along that straight line, and with a 'whf!' appears outside. Immediately he finds some cover. He might be concerned with his own safety, but he's still human. Sort of, anyway. There's another person still in there, and he needs to wait until he's sure Mister Hero's out. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      With Eric seemingly dealt with, Bakuda emits a sharp whistle. "Let's go, boys and girls! Let the boss have some fun!"      And, sure enough, Lung has his fun. His fists bounce off Armsmaster's armor at first, but the next few leave considerable dents. Armsmaster whirls his halberd, catches Lung in the gap between blade and haft, and twists the weapon to send Lung sprawling. Through the hole in the wall, Eric can see the pair trade words but even Armsmaster's booming proclomations are quiet. His opponent, the one called Lung, is looking... different. Are those metal '''scales''' now pushing through his skin? He certainly seems a bit bigger than he did just a few minutes ago, but maybe that's just a trick of the light.      And then he raises his hands, and fire leaps from his fingertips. The entire warehouse goes up in seconds. "Today is not the day of our reckoning," Lung says, his deep voice is heavily accented, almost impossible to understand. "You will want to see to the fires."      And just like that, it's over. The little bit of superpowered chestbeating is done. With his Halberd laid over one shoulder, Armsmaster steps out of the warehouse, speaking to someone, probably bringing in response teams. Someone to prevent the fire from spreading.      He seems to catch sight of Eric. "Are you going to start a fight with me?" Armsmaster calls out. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     With the people that seemed to be responsible dealt with and gone from the scene, Eric comes out of hiding. Only to be confronted with Armsmaster, it seems. He turns towards the armored man. The funky 'do not see me' hoodoo doesn't appear to work on this guy, so Mister Hero must be an Elite. Eric's not surprised.     Eric just shakes his head. "No need." For many reasons. Firstly, he can see this guy's probably stronger than he is. Secondly, armor makes for a difficult time trying to feed on somebody even if he did try. And third, that whole thing with the media and their superhero. Putting bombs in people is a crappy thing to do, and this armored guy needs to be able to punch that lady and her boss.     Instead his tilts his head back, so he can see Armsmaster. "...You alright?" It was mentioned before, but now Armsmaster is seeing it. This fellow in the hoodie has blue white eyes, and when he speaks, the fangs are clearly visible. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      "Yes," Armsmaster replies, without much concern. He stops a few paces away from Eric and crosses his arms, letting his Halberd casually rest against his shoulder plating inside the space between arms and chest. The only thing Eric can see of his face is his chin and some of his jaw, his mouth - all edged by a trimmed black beard. He looks young, late twenties or early thirties, but who can tell under that blank helmet?      "You're a new face," Armsmaster says. Oh. He must've confused Eric for someone from around the city. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     "I'm not from around here," Eric assures. That's always code for 'I'm an offworlder' in the movies, right? Most of the stuff he's seen is movie-worthy anyway. He could make a mint if he wrote some of this stuff in a book or something. Anyway. "Just passing through." Pause. There's a bit of a smirk then, though it's a mirthless one. "...Looking for a bite to eat." This is... probably pretty far from any restaurants... 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      "You're in the wrong part of town for that," Armsmaster says, evidently all business. "The ABB aren't people to cross lightly. If you're trying to be the next big hero, you should find an easier target. And have let us known that you were in town." 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Eric gives a snort of laughter. "I'm not a hero." If he was trying to be, he probably would have just attacked Lung. Thankfully he didn't, it probably would have been the death of him. And since the 'out of town' spiel seemed to have been taken literally, Eric further clarifies, "If you spoke on the broadband, you know about the Multiverse. I'm not from your world." 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      "Ah," Armsmaster says, and he doesn't sound happy about either of those things. "Then, until we have that sorted out with the proper regulations and oversight, you should still have told us." He doesn't even mention the difficulties of informing someone you might not even be aware of. What is he, one of those stuck-up paladins? 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Eric raises an eyebrow. "How was I supposed to do that?" he asks. "Since I didn't know you existed." He sounds pretty calm about being told he should have informed an organization he was unaware of the existence of. But then again it's hard to tell, given that his voice doesn't seem to have much variance in pitch. He seems pretty emotionless overall.     Another tilt of his head. "Give me the number and a name. I'll be sure and mention it if I happen to pass through again." He may or may not come through again... or he may or may not tell anyone if he does. Since there may or may not be spates of biting attacks that coincide with his visits, and that might be traced to him. But legal formalities. Have to at least '''pretend''' to be following the rules. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      Armsmaster reaches down and section of his armor slides open. Is that- Yeah, it's a business card. It's a blank white thing, with the words ''ARMSMASTER, PROTECTORATE COMMANDER, BROCKTON BAY'' and a number beneath it. One side has what must be his symbol, which appears to just be the design of his visor. "For now, keep your head down - those two and the third of their number, Oni Lee, will be looking for revenge. Call me if you need any help." 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     ...That's handy. Eric takes the business card, reads it. "'Armsmaster'?" he confirms. Definitely a pseudonym. So yeah. Seems this world has its own population of superheroes. And supervillains, if what he just saw was any indication. He slides the card into a pocket, and offers, "Eric Bane." Pause. "Thanks." 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      "I got into this cape game before all the good names were taken up," he replies, as if by way of explanation. Armsmaster taps a section of his Halberd, and his motorcycle hums its way over towards him. He rests one gauntletted hand on the handlebars. "Consider this a gesture of good will - I won't mention you in any Protectorate reports. That way, the ABB has less way of figuring out who you are. But next time? Keep to the better sections of town. The docks are their territory." 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     "I'll keep that in mind," Eric comments. Then he asks, "Any slums in the city that /aren't/ controlled by a big cartel?" That's a slightly odd question, why would he be expressly looking for bad parts of town? But something else catches his attention, too. "What's the ABB?" he inquires. 

:'''{{#var:554|Armsmaster (554)}} has posed:'''      "No," Armsmaster says. He hops onto his motorcycle and his armor seems to just slide into it, probably some sort of interface. "ABB. Azn Bad Boys. Asian gang, led by Lung." He pronounces it Lu-ong, like Mandarin Chinese. "Most powerful gang in Brockton Bay, but relatively benign. Drugs, prostitution."      Sirens in the distance herald the arrival of fire engines. "I'm required elsewhere," Armsmaster says, gunning the engine. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Eric nods. "Thanks. Take care." He also takes a few steps back from the motorcycle, so as not to get sprayed with dust or road debris. Since he has a feeling Armsmaster is going to speed off like a shot when he leaves! 
}}

463/I Only Wanted A Bite!

2014-08-21T08:49:13Z

AhmarMetaf:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/21
|Location=Void - Astroidia
|Synopsis=Eric's Hunting goes completely FUBAR when he mistakes Wash as the vampire equivalent of a cherry pie. Malcolm takes exception to someone trying to eat his pilot. Hijinks ensue!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=273, 550, 551
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:''' Space. The final frontier. Yeah, corny. But how else can Eric really react to this. He's '''in space'''. In a '''space station'''. Unless all these windows on this place are just projectors that are projecting a really realistic movie. All of them, across the whole station, playing the exact same one, in panoramic view. Too elaborate a plot. More importantly. There are people here. People mean food. For a vampire, anyway. Which Eric Bane just happens to be. Time to find a good place to not be seen and pull somebody into a shadowy corner. And hope not to kill them. He stops to pull his hood up, and begins to file through the crowd. Somehow the people around him seem to simultaneously not see him and yet move around him. Eric looks for said shadowy corner. And waits for a passerby... If this wasn't so necessary it'd be sad. Eric has no idea what he's doing. Why couldn't he get that hypnotic 'you will do whatever I tell you' stare for his gift instead? At least he blends well with the shadows so he's not likely to be seen... until he grabs someone! 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Outside of the station, a medium-sized transport ship is docked at one of the ports. It's of interesting proportions, the aft section seeming imbalanced compared to the small cockpit area that's mounted on top of a small extrusion towards the stern of the ship. A few figures can be seen still inside of the ship, but a group of four or five have made their way down the port, and towards the center of the station.     "Zoe, stick with Wash, please. If there's trouble, get him back to the boat. Would be keen to be leavin' in a hurry, and it helps to have my pilot actually -on- the ship if that's bein' the case." 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      "I don't need a leash, captain. It's not like I'm going to run off the moment I see--oh shiny..." Wash's protests are interrupted by a slow-moving cart with what looks to sell a combination of colorful cartoon-character ice cream treats and badly-bootlegged plastic toys shaped like them. Wait, are those charicatures of the WMAT competitors? And already the easily-distracted pilot is trying to chase the cart down. "Hey. Hey. Can I get a Serori-Pop?" Oh Wash.      He's easy to pick out of a crowd. Painfully easy. His hawaiian shirt is bright red with silver tropical plants on it. It's unlikely the man has even seen those plants. But the shirt is comfy looking. It almost draws attention '''away''' from his moustache. Almost. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     ...Really?     There's no way Eric's going to miss a guy wearing '''that shirt'''. And the moustache that sits under his nose like a fuzzy caterpillar that happens to be the same shade as his hair. Not that the hair helps him not be noticeable. And is Wash walking past that little shadowy corner? If so he might want to be careful because there will suddenly be arms and hands of a '''really strong dude''' trying to pull him into that corner! Eric's going to try to cover the guy's mouth to keep him from screaming, but not having grown into vampire speed yet, he might just miss. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal just sorta sighs, as Wash goes off to try and buy a Serori-popsicle.     "I've got it, sir.." says a darker-skinned woman, making her way over after her husband. A few figures from the crowd get in the way, and so Zoe is a bit delayed after Wash's departure, trying to push through and catch up.     "Keep River away from the Megatron-pops, will ya!?" Serenity's captain calls over. "Don't like when she starts turnin' it into a puppet!" 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash seems oblivious. He's already patting down his pants for his wallet. The vendor seems impatient. He's got more pops to sell and the pilot is holding him up. "Ta Ma Duh..." he curses in Chinese, which the multiverse promptly translates into a badly-parsed <Damn it...>. "Hey, Captain, can I borrow--" And then he's grabbed. The poor spaceman makes a sound.      "Whoa, hey, look buddy, I don't have my wallet. Scary guy in the brown coat over there, he's got my wallet. Or a wallet. Maybe," he seems remarkably calm. "...You're not going to take my kidneys, are you? Can you just take one?" and then he's silenced by that hand, the pilot starting to thrash and squirm about as strongly as, well, he can. Which actually isn't '''that''' much. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal sighs again. He does this a lot with his pilot, it seems. "How does he always manage to forget his shee-niou <Cow-Sucking> wallet..." he bemoans. Serenity's captain starts to fish around his his brown coat for his wallet, probably intending on pelting the redhead with a few coin instead, but then looks over towards where the readhead pilot '''used''' to be a moment ago.     "HEY!" he shouts. "That's my pilot! Don't got another one!"     The captain, plus Zoe and Jayne, start elbowing their way through the crowd, now. "Go an' get your own!" 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Wash's chatter doesn't get the perhaps typical 'shut up or I'll blow your head off'. Instead it's just a quiet, "Shhh." There's no threat of a gun. There's a strong grip aiming to pin at his waist and under an arm. A hiss, something inhuman-sounding.     That would be about when Malcolm and Jayne get there. And they'll see what Wash can't, due to the attacker being behind him. What will Mal and Jayne see? A man in black clothes, attempting to subdue Wash for a purpose that's probably clear to them. Considering the attacker has '''FANGS''' bared ... and they're poised to try to take a bite out of the pilot!     ... Probably better Wash didn't see that, all things considered.     Regardless, once he sees Malcolm, his eyes widen in surprise and he releases Wash. They might hear a whooshing sound, feel something cold, dark, and alien zoom past as the attacker literally turns into a shadow and teleports past. It's not too far. Might even be close enough for the guy to be tackled. But if so, it better be fast, because he's running. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash actually hushes at the shushing. He blinks, getting well and properly manhandled. "H-hey... I'll juggle you. I'll have you know I'm a world-class juggler." He's not. The hiss makes him stop again, though, and he even ceases struggling. "Ah! My barbarians! Save me from this gentleman!" he exclaims when Mal and Jayne arrive. He really can't see what's behind him, which is probably for the best.      Then he's released, and the 'creature' is away, the pilot watching the shadow but more busy rubbing his arm. "If I had a wallet I'm sure he would've taken it. ...That was real, right? You both saw that?" 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Aw, hell.." says the voice belonging to the large, gruntish figure standing at Mal's left. Who also happens to be carrying enough weaponry to subdue a small country. He pulls out something that looks like an antiqueated shotgun, and pops off a few rounds in the direction of the cold 'whoosh', probably hitting nothing but air, with Jayne's luck and aim.     Zoe's a bit more concerned with her husband, because they're married and all-Nope! She's also pulled a weapon, a level action rifle of sorts, and aims over at the fleeing vampire. She doesn't seem to have a shot, though, thanks to the crowd, and doesn't squeeze the trigger. Not that Jayne's in any better of a position, but he probably just didn't care.     "Aw, hell..." echoes Mal, and turns to take off running in the 'whoosh's direction, trying to see if he can catch up with the man/thing. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     If Jayne had fired literally a second later, those shots would have caught Eric. The group will have more luck when trying to track him down, though. Luckily for them, Eric's not able to teleport that far. Also, because they're paying attention, his natural 'do not see me' doesn't work on them. Not that it would work on them anyway, since they're Elites. Elites aren't susceptible to it.     Making matters worse? Guy doesn't run that fast. And it's clearly a guy. A guy in a black or dark gray hoodie. He is, however, pretty good at ducking around people. Mainly because the crowd just seems to ... part around him somehow, without noticing him. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      "Uh... guys? Hello?" Wash asks in a pitiful voice, still rubbing his arm. "...Isn't anyone going to ask me if I'm alright? I just got grabbed by a... shadow... guy... and I think he was trying to eat me." He sighs, looking dejected. The gunfire has probably scared away the popsicle-and-toy cart vendor, too. "Maybe I'll just... go back to the ship. Yeah," he turns and starts walking, looking over his shoulder at the trio with guns and pointing awkwardly towards the docking ring. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Jayne, go with the captain.." instructs Zoe, in a voice of one accustomed to having others follow. She herself shoulders her weapon, and heads back in Wash's direction. "He didn't give you rabies or nothin' did he?" she asks, concernedly.     Mal's still tearing after Eric. He's no sprinter, but he's no sloth, either. Jayne's a good deal slower, and started later, so he's a stone's throw behind Mal as it is, and can't shoot Eric without hitting Mal, now. Not that that's exactly an impediment to the big man, though. But, payday is tomorrow, so he needs that check. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     There's nothing to worry about, the fellow they're chasing is no sprinter either. Malcolm at least will near the guy pretty quickly. He doesn't seem to be inclined to use that shadowy zoomy thing again. Or maybe he can't, who knows? Either way, Malcolm will soon find himself in reach of the guy ... 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     And as Mal gets nearer, he'd try to jump and catch the man by the waist in a football tackle. Except the captain's no football player. Probably has enough force to knock him over, though, which is the whole point of his little chase.     "What the gorram hell was that?!?" he asks, angrily, whether he be on top or bottom. "That's my pilot! Bought and paid for! Go an' find your own!" 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash melts when Zoe gets back over to him, halting his forward progress back towards the ship. "No, no, he just... grabbed me and hauled me away like I was a sack of potatoes. Does this mean I'm getting fat? Do I look fat?" he looks down at his belly, tugging at his shirt. "I think he tried to eat me." 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Zoe 'tsk'-s at her husband, and reaches out to tweak him by the nose, playfully. "Nobody's allowed to nibble on my baby 'cept me, hear?" she says, looking over the poor redhead to check for any obvious bite marks. "Don't think he got you anywhere.." she says. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Well that was unexpected. Maybe it shouldn't have been. Or maybe he should have found something to hide behind. Either way, as Malcolm makes that flying tackle, he does indeed make contact! Bodycheck! Except the man reacts near-instantaneously and rolls. Looks like Eric's going to end up on top. He's quite strong. Malcolm will be looking up at the face of the fellow in the hoodie. It's a scruffy-looking guy. Normal looking, too, except for two things. Blue-white eyes and the fangs. Those fangs are visible because the guy's mouth is open due to surprise.     Given his positioning though, he's in a prime position to leave! He ... doesn't, though. He just scoots back from Malcolm. "...Sorry." He sounds contrite, at least. Looks it too. "Thought he was alone. I wouldn't've hurt him anyway." Sounds like an American. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      "Yeah. Nobody's allowed to nibble on me except--huh?" Wash proclaims before pausing and looking up at the dark-skinned amazon goddess that is his wife. Then the pilot shrugs, and rubs the side of his head. "...So... so um. '''AM''' I tasty? Like, am I at risk for actually being chewed on by other people. Things. Not you?" he blinks those bright blue eyes, then looks back at the captain. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Well, uh..." says the captain, picking himself up and dusting at his coat. Probably wasn't expecting things to go quite like that. Because things just '''never''' go like that with the crew. As it is, though, Serenity's captain still has his weapon, clothes, and is on his feet. A sight better than it normally ends up.     "Looked to me like you were fixin' to bite yourself off a little bit of my pilot, see..." he says, though a bit less confrontationally now. "Now, if you're feelin' exceptionally peckish, I can sure's hell find some food for ya. But I'd take it as a kindness if that food didn't come from the fellow who's got to drive my boat," he explains.     "Ain't goin' to be any chewin' of any pilots on my boat," says Mal, raising his voice as he addresses Zoe and Wash without looking away from the young vampire ahead of him. "Not that you're not tasty, Wash. I'm sure you're as keen to the taste as a nice cherry pie, and all," he clarifies. "But no eatin' of my pilot, dong ma?" Mal repeats, sqaring a look to Eric. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Eric stands too, rubbing at the back of his neck. Though he stays quiet 'till Malcolm notes that he was about to bite the pilot. " ... I was." And then something is said about finding him food. " ... Might be kind of difficult," he hedges. Yeah, he'd totally been about to bite Wash. Still, though. He looks at Wash. " ... Sorry about that." Then he looks at Malcolm again. "Sorry. Like I said, I thought he was alone. Wasn't going to hurt him. Much." He sounds like he's totally serious. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash puts his hands in his pockets, listening to the captain make a little speech in his defense. Captain always good at speeches. Until he gets to the part where he should shut up but forgets to shut up. "Did... did he just compare me to cherry pie? I know I've got the ginger thing going..." he pulls his hand out and ruffles his own hair, then looks at it to see if any came off. "Hey, bitey-guy, maybe I go with you instead? I don't look like a cherry pie to you, right?" Then he looks up at Zoe, "Do I taste like a cherry pie, honey?" 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal takes the liberty of answering that one for Eric. "Nobody's goin' with the bitey-guy!" he calls, back over at Zoe and Wash. "'Specially not someone who's got to fly my gorram boat out of here!" he adds, before dipping his head to Eric. "You understand." He gives a brief little bow of sorts, then turns back for his crew.     "Cherry pie and cream," agrees Zoe, flashing her husband a smile. "All set, sir?" she asks, as Mal comes back over.     "All set," he replies. "Let's get out of here."     "Oh, and Wash? Try not to get eaten next time." 

}}

Category:DARK-1

2014-08-21T08:10:07Z

AhmarMetaf: Not sure why this was still red at the bottom of my page, but whatever.

{{CastPage
|Desc=        'Vampire'.

        For most people the word conjures up visions of beings of great beauty and charisma, with hearts cold as ice and dark as the night they strike from, bewitching those they feed on into giving their blood willingly. Nothing could be further from the truth. Vampires... are just people. Just like people, they can be great or small, terrible or wonderful. Capable of good or ill. Maybe that's their greatest strength. Or their greatest weakness. That they're still human, even as vampires.

        Samantha Fields, the CEO of a company called 'CryoGenics', feels her mission is to give mankind the gift of an eternity free of diseases, aging, and death. For this, she needs vampires. Old vampires. Project Ascension, as she calls it, aims to study the vampire virus and remove the parts of it that kill a human and make him rise with a thirst for blood, leaving only the parts that will, she hopes, make humans immortal and immune to disease.

        The vampire subculture is insular, though. A human isn't getting in without a LOT of help. And CryoGenics needs information on who -- and where -- the old vampires are. Along comes Eric Bane, a member of M-17 -- the government-funded, vampire-hunting military arm of CryoGenics. Volunteering for a mission to clean out a vampire-run human trafficking ring (for food, not slaves, mind), Eric finds himself plunked right down in the middle of the front lines CryoGenics is drawing between humans and vampires.

        As a vampire.

        CryoGenics will soon make its move. The only place Eric can go to for help now is "Sanctuary", a nightclub that's really a... well, sanctuary for vampires. The place where all the information can be found, the place that's been all but unattainable to CryoGenics.

        Until now.

        As Eric struggles to make sense of his new state, with no memory of who he is, or who made him into a vampire, he will soon realize that being a vampire isn't all its cracked up to be. And also... that his days are numbered unless he can find an old, powerful vampire. But the old vampires he needs are twisted, evil. And he has to find the right one.

        Before it's too late for him.
|Cat=Themes
}}

463/I Only Wanted A Bite!

2014-08-21T08:06:45Z

AhmarMetaf: Eric's Hunting goes completely FUBAR when he mistakes Wash as the vampire equivalent of a cherry pie. Malcolm takes exception to someone trying to eat his pilot. Hijinks ensue!

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/21
|Location=Void - Astroidia
|Synopsis=Eric's Hunting goes completely FUBAR when he mistakes Wash as the vampire equivalent of a cherry pie. Malcolm takes exception to someone trying to eat his pilot. Hijinks ensue!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=273, 550, 551
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:''' Space. The final frontier. Yeah, corny. But how else can Eric really react to this. He's '''in space'''. In a '''space station'''. Unless all these windows on this place are just projectors that are projecting a really realistic movie. All of them, across the whole station, playing the exact same one, in panoramic view. Too elaborate a plot. More importantly. There are people here. People mean food. For a vampire, anyway. Which Eric Bane just happens to be. Time to find a good place to not be seen and pull somebody into a shadowy corner. And hope not to kill them. He stops to pull his hood up, and begins to file through the crowd. Somehow the people around him seem to simultaneously not see him and yet move around him. Eric looks for said shadowy corner. And waits for a passerby... If this wasn't so necessary it'd be sad. Eric has no idea what he's doing. Why couldn't he get that hypnotic 'you will do whatever I tell you' stare for his gift instead? At least he blends well with the shadows so he's not likely to be seen... until he grabs someone! 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Outside of the station, a medium-sized transport ship is docked at one of the ports. It's of interesting proportions, the aft section seeming imbalanced compared to the small cockpit area that's mounted on top of a small extrusion towards the stern of the ship. A few figures can be seen still inside of the ship, but a group of four or five have made their way down the port, and towards the center of the station.     "Zoe, stick with Wash, please. If there's trouble, get him back to the boat. Would be keen to be leavin' in a hurry, and it helps to have my pilot actually -on- the ship if that's bein' the case." 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      "I don't need a leash, captain. It's not like I'm going to run off the moment I see--oh shiny..." Wash's protests are interrupted by a slow-moving cart with what looks to sell a combination of colorful cartoon-character ice cream treats and badly-bootlegged plastic toys shaped like them. Wait, are those charicatures of the WMAT competitors? And already the easily-distracted pilot is trying to chase the cart down. "Hey. Hey. Can I get a Serori-Pop?" Oh Wash.      He's easy to pick out of a crowd. Painfully easy. His hawaiian shirt is bright red with silver tropical plants on it. It's unlikely the man has even seen those plants. But the shirt is comfy looking. It almost draws attention '''away''' from his moustache. Almost. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     ...Really?     There's no way Eric's going to miss a guy wearing '''that shirt'''. And the moustache that sits under his nose like a fuzzy caterpillar that happens to be the same shade as his hair. Not that the hair helps him not be noticeable. And is Wash walking past that little shadowy corner? If so he might want to be careful because there will suddenly be arms and hands of a '''really strong dude''' trying to pull him into that corner! Eric's going to try to cover the guy's mouth to keep him from screaming, but not having grown into vampire speed yet, he might just miss. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal just sorta sighs, as Wash goes off to try and buy a Serori-popsicle.     "I've got it, sir.." says a darker-skinned woman, making her way over after her husband. A few figures from the crowd get in the way, and so Zoe is a bit delayed after Wash's departure, trying to push through and catch up.     "Keep River away from the Megatron-pops, will ya!?" Serenity's captain calls over. "Don't like when she starts turnin' it into a puppet!" 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash seems oblivious. He's already patting down his pants for his wallet. The vendor seems impatient. He's got more pops to sell and the pilot is holding him up. "Ta Ma Duh..." he curses in Chinese, which the multiverse promptly translates into a badly-parsed <Damn it...>. "Hey, Captain, can I borrow--" And then he's grabbed. The poor spaceman makes a sound.      "Whoa, hey, look buddy, I don't have my wallet. Scary guy in the brown coat over there, he's got my wallet. Or a wallet. Maybe," he seems remarkably calm. "...You're not going to take my kidneys, are you? Can you just take one?" and then he's silenced by that hand, the pilot starting to thrash and squirm about as strongly as, well, he can. Which actually isn't '''that''' much. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal sighs again. He does this a lot with his pilot, it seems. "How does he always manage to forget his shee-niou <Cow-Sucking> wallet..." he bemoans. Serenity's captain starts to fish around his his brown coat for his wallet, probably intending on pelting the redhead with a few coin instead, but then looks over towards where the readhead pilot '''used''' to be a moment ago.     "HEY!" he shouts. "That's my pilot! Don't got another one!"     The captain, plus Zoe and Jayne, start elbowing their way through the crowd, now. "Go an' get your own!" 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Wash's chatter doesn't get the perhaps typical 'shut up or I'll blow your head off'. Instead it's just a quiet, "Shhh." There's no threat of a gun. There's a strong grip aiming to pin at his waist and under an arm. A hiss, something inhuman-sounding.     That would be about when Malcolm and Jayne get there. And they'll see what Wash can't, due to the attacker being behind him. What will Mal and Jayne see? A man in black clothes, attempting to subdue Wash for a purpose that's probably clear to them. Considering the attacker has '''FANGS''' bared ... and they're poised to try to take a bite out of the pilot!     ... Probably better Wash didn't see that, all things considered.     Regardless, once he sees Malcolm, his eyes widen in surprise and he releases Wash. They might hear a whooshing sound, feel something cold, dark, and alien zoom past as the attacker literally turns into a shadow and teleports past. It's not too far. Might even be close enough for the guy to be tackled. But if so, it better be fast, because he's running. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash actually hushes at the shushing. He blinks, getting well and properly manhandled. "H-hey... I'll juggle you. I'll have you know I'm a world-class juggler." He's not. The hiss makes him stop again, though, and he even ceases struggling. "Ah! My barbarians! Save me from this gentleman!" he exclaims when Mal and Jayne arrive. He really can't see what's behind him, which is probably for the best.      Then he's released, and the 'creature' is away, the pilot watching the shadow but more busy rubbing his arm. "If I had a wallet I'm sure he would've taken it. ...That was real, right? You both saw that?" 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Aw, hell.." says the voice belonging to the large, gruntish figure standing at Mal's left. Who also happens to be carrying enough weaponry to subdue a small country. He pulls out something that looks like an antiqueated shotgun, and pops off a few rounds in the direction of the cold 'whoosh', probably hitting nothing but air, with Jayne's luck and aim.     Zoe's a bit more concerned with her husband, because they're married and all-Nope! She's also pulled a weapon, a level action rifle of sorts, and aims over at the fleeing vampire. She doesn't seem to have a shot, though, thanks to the crowd, and doesn't squeeze the trigger. Not that Jayne's in any better of a position, but he probably just didn't care.     "Aw, hell..." echoes Mal, and turns to take off running in the 'whoosh''s direction, trying to see if he can catch up with the man/thing. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     If Jayne had fired literally a second later, those shots would have caught Eric. The group will have more luck when trying to track him down, though. Luckily for them, Eric's not able to teleport that far. Also, because they're paying attention, his natural 'do not see me' doesn't work on them. Not that it would work on them anyway, since they're Elites. Elites aren't susceptible to it.     Making matters worse? Guy doesn't run that fast. And it's clearly a guy. A guy in a black or dark gray hoodie. He is, however, pretty good at ducking around people. Mainly because the crowd just seems to ... part around him somehow, without noticing him. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      "Uh... guys? Hello?" Wash asks in a pitiful voice, still rubbing his arm. "...Isn't anyone going to ask me if I'm alright? I just got grabbed by a... shadow... guy... and I think he was trying to eat me." He sighs, looking dejected. The gunfire has probably scared away the popsicle-and-toy cart vendor, too. "Maybe I'll just... go back to the ship. Yeah," he turns and starts walking, looking over his shoulder at the trio with guns and pointing awkwardly towards the docking ring. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Jayne, go with the captain.." instructs Zoe, in a voice of one accustomed to having others follow. She herself shoulders her weapon, and heads back in Wash's direction. "He didn't give you rabies or nothin' did he?" she asks, concernedly.     Mal's still tearing after Eric. He's no sprinter, but he's no sloth, either. Jayne's a good deal slower, and started later, so he's a stone's throw behind Mal as it is, and can't shoot Eric without hitting Mal, now. Not that that's exactly an impediment to the big man, though. But, payday is tomorrow, so he needs that check. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     There's nothing to worry about, the fellow they're chasing is no sprinter either. Malcolm at least will near the guy pretty quickly. He doesn't seem to be inclined to use that shadowy zoomy thing again. Or maybe he can't, who knows? Either way, Malcolm will soon find himself in reach of the guy ... 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     And as Mal gets nearer, he'd try to jump and catch the man by the waist in a football tackle. Except the captain's no football player. Probably has enough force to knock him over, though, which is the whole point of his little chase.     "What the gorram hell was that?!?" he asks, angrily, whether he be on top or bottom. "That's my pilot! Bought and paid for! Go an' find your own!" 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash melts when Zoe gets back over to him, halting his forward progress back towards the ship. "No, no, he just... grabbed me and hauled me away like I was a sack of potatoes. Does this mean I'm getting fat? Do I look fat?" he looks down at his belly, tugging at his shirt. "I think he tried to eat me." 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Zoe 'tsk'-s at her husband, and reaches out to tweak him by the nose, playfully. "Nobody's allowed to nibble on my baby 'cept me, hear?" she says, looking over the poor redhead to check for any obvious bite marks. "Don't think he got you anywhere.." she says. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Well that was unexpected. Maybe it shouldn't have been. Or maybe he should have found something to hide behind. Either way, as Malcolm makes that flying tackle, he does indeed make contact! Bodycheck! Except the man reacts near-instantaneously and rolls. Looks like Eric's going to end up on top. He's quite strong. Malcolm will be looking up at the face of the fellow in the hoodie. It's a scruffy-looking guy. Normal looking, too, except for two things. Blue-white eyes and the fangs. Those fangs are visible because the guy's mouth is open due to surprise.     Given his positioning though, he's in a prime position to leave! He ... doesn't, though. He just scoots back from Malcolm. "...Sorry." He sounds contrite, at least. Looks it too. "Thought he was alone. I wouldn't've hurt him anyway." Sounds like an American. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      "Yeah. Nobody's allowed to nibble on me except--huh?" Wash proclaims before pausing and looking up at the dark-skinned amazon goddess that is his wife. Then the pilot shrugs, and rubs the side of his head. "...So... so um. '''AM''' I tasty? Like, am I at risk for actually being chewed on by other people. Things. Not you?" he blinks those bright blue eyes, then looks back at the captain. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Well, uh..." says the captain, picking himself up and dusting at his coat. Probably wasn't expecting things to go quite like that. Because things just '''never''' go like that with the crew. As it is, though, Serenity's captain still has his weapon, clothes, and is on his feet. A sight better than it normally ends up.     "Looked to me like you were fixin' to bite yourself off a little bit of my pilot, see..." he says, though a bit less confrontationally now. "Now, if you're feelin' exceptionally peckish, I can sure's hell find some food for ya. But I'd take it as a kindness if that food didn't come from the fellow who's got to drive my boat," he explains.     "Ain't goin' to be any chewin' of any pilots on my boat," says Mal, raising his voice as he addresses Zoe and Wash without looking away from the young vampire ahead of him. "Not that you're not tasty, Wash. I'm sure you're as keen to the taste as a nice cherry pie, and all," he clarifies. "But no eatin' of my pilot, dong ma?" Mal repeats, sqaring a look to Eric. 

:'''{{#var:550|Eric Bane (550)}} has posed:'''     Eric stands too, rubbing at the back of his neck. Though he stays quiet 'till Malcolm notes that he was about to bite the pilot. " ... I was." And then something is said about finding him food. " ... Might be kind of difficult," he hedges. Yeah, he'd totally been about to bite Wash. Still, though. He looks at Wash. " ... Sorry about that." Then he looks at Malcolm again. "Sorry. Like I said, I thought he was alone. Wasn't going to hurt him. Much." He sounds like he's totally serious. 

:'''{{#var:551|Hoban Washburne (551)}} has posed:'''      Wash puts his hands in his pockets, listening to the captain make a little speech in his defense. Captain always good at speeches. Until he gets to the part where he should shut up but forgets to shut up. "Did... did he just compare me to cherry pie? I know I've got the ginger thing going..." he pulls his hand out and ruffles his own hair, then looks at it to see if any came off. "Hey, bitey-guy, maybe I go with you instead? I don't look like a cherry pie to you, right?" Then he looks up at Zoe, "Do I taste like a cherry pie, honey?" 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal takes the liberty of answering that one for Eric. "Nobody's goin' with the bitey-guy!" he calls, back over at Zoe and Wash. "'Specially not someone who's got to fly my gorram boat out of here!" he adds, before dipping his head to Eric. "You understand." He gives a brief little bow of sorts, then turns back for his crew.     "Cherry pie and cream," agrees Zoe, flashing her husband a smile. "All set, sir?" she asks, as Mal comes back over.     "All set," he replies. "Let's get out of here."     "Oh, and Wash? Try not to get eaten next time." 

}}