An Outsider
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A Glorious Failure
STATUS: Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating. 8 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
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Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating.
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9 yrs ago
My Lit Lecturer used Matt Fraction's Hawkeye run to display the effect of narratology in class today. It's the first thing he's spoken about all term that I've actually read.
9 yrs ago
How good is the Punisher in Netflix's Daredevil series? "Just some guys who are about to walk into a diner for the last time." That line is so manly it could make a toddler sprout a beard.
9 yrs ago
The Justice League trailer is giving me mixed emotions. On the one hand, I desperately want to get hyped. On the other, Snyder and co have burnt me too many times in the past. I'm a conflicted mess.
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9 yrs ago
What? The Lethal Weapon tv show isn't utter garbage at all, instead being an enjoyable watch. What the fuck is the world coming to?
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Bio
For all you know I'm handsome as hell. Let's keep it that way.
Most Recent Posts
Jangel, I don't mean to be nit-picky, but are you writing in 1st or 3rd person in your posts? You seem to jump between the two, and I'm just not sure what you are going for.
Corraich was glad that his offer to help hadn't been met by any opposition from the group. One of the elves, a Dalish by the look of him, put forward a plan to find the missing husband. Not a bad one either, taking the direct route by just asking the wife where the husband might be.
"I know how to read track if we get a rough location," stated Corraich. No doubt the Dalish could too, but it bore saying that Chasind trackers were the best in the world.
It was at that point that a haughty little fellow barged into the conversation, much as Corraich had just seconds before. Still, there was something in his demeanour that set Corraich's hackles on edge, maybe just the arrogant way he thrust himself on the job. The big man reckoned he could stop the wee fellow coming if he 'didn't like it'.
Still, no point making enemies were you could be making friends. He listened as the elf spoke against him coming, waiting to see how it played out.
"I know how to read track if we get a rough location," stated Corraich. No doubt the Dalish could too, but it bore saying that Chasind trackers were the best in the world.
It was at that point that a haughty little fellow barged into the conversation, much as Corraich had just seconds before. Still, there was something in his demeanour that set Corraich's hackles on edge, maybe just the arrogant way he thrust himself on the job. The big man reckoned he could stop the wee fellow coming if he 'didn't like it'.
Still, no point making enemies were you could be making friends. He listened as the elf spoke against him coming, waiting to see how it played out.
Corraich Fiadhaich
The city of Val Royeux was a crowded place right enough, the vast numbers of people seeming to take up every available inch of space, whether it be in the inns, taverns, chantrys or even the streets themselves. The press of refugees and beggars was almost suffocating, it being a bloody wonder that no one had been trampled under foot yet. That said, it was a wonder just how much space the mob would give to a six foot eight inch tall Chasind barbarian when he came ambling down the street. Maybe it was the fact that he was built like a bear that made them give him his space, or that his big, battle-scarred, heavy fists looked like they could pound an Ogre into paste if he put his mind to it, or that look in his eyes that said he'd been over the mountain a time or two. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he hadn't had a chance to wash in about a fortnight, and stank to the Makers hall. Whatever it was, they didn't have to give him his berth on the street for much longer as he had found his destination, a pretty non-descript little tavern that seemed to be a hive of drunken activity.
The big Chasind pushed his way through a group of drunks towards the door of the tavern, a couple of angry comments cut shy when the dullards realised just how massive the southerner was. The barbarian had to duck his head just to fit under the lintel, a practice he was well used to by now. He had once thought about travelling to the lands of the Qunari, just because they were so big that they surely built structures big enough to suit him. His fierce dark eyes scanned the crowd, trying to pick out his targets. It didn't take long, even in a place as packed as this they stood out like a sore thumb. Two elves and a Grey Warden in plate. Not a sight you seen every day, and he should know, he'd seen some sights in his time. The Chasind crossed to the group, managing to catch the tail end of their conversation.
"Hold up there," he said, thrusting a crumpled Chanters board bill at the group, the very one that detailed they're adopted mission. "The Mother at the Chantry sent me, names Corraich Fiadhaich. Reckon you lad's aim to find this missing husband, mind if I tag along?" The big Chasind wouldn't admit it, but he needed the work, or more accurately he needed the healing potions. If he was to bring war to the Darkspawn for what they had done to the Korcari wilds and his people then he would need all the help he could get.
The city of Val Royeux was a crowded place right enough, the vast numbers of people seeming to take up every available inch of space, whether it be in the inns, taverns, chantrys or even the streets themselves. The press of refugees and beggars was almost suffocating, it being a bloody wonder that no one had been trampled under foot yet. That said, it was a wonder just how much space the mob would give to a six foot eight inch tall Chasind barbarian when he came ambling down the street. Maybe it was the fact that he was built like a bear that made them give him his space, or that his big, battle-scarred, heavy fists looked like they could pound an Ogre into paste if he put his mind to it, or that look in his eyes that said he'd been over the mountain a time or two. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he hadn't had a chance to wash in about a fortnight, and stank to the Makers hall. Whatever it was, they didn't have to give him his berth on the street for much longer as he had found his destination, a pretty non-descript little tavern that seemed to be a hive of drunken activity.
The big Chasind pushed his way through a group of drunks towards the door of the tavern, a couple of angry comments cut shy when the dullards realised just how massive the southerner was. The barbarian had to duck his head just to fit under the lintel, a practice he was well used to by now. He had once thought about travelling to the lands of the Qunari, just because they were so big that they surely built structures big enough to suit him. His fierce dark eyes scanned the crowd, trying to pick out his targets. It didn't take long, even in a place as packed as this they stood out like a sore thumb. Two elves and a Grey Warden in plate. Not a sight you seen every day, and he should know, he'd seen some sights in his time. The Chasind crossed to the group, managing to catch the tail end of their conversation.
"Hold up there," he said, thrusting a crumpled Chanters board bill at the group, the very one that detailed they're adopted mission. "The Mother at the Chantry sent me, names Corraich Fiadhaich. Reckon you lad's aim to find this missing husband, mind if I tag along?" The big Chasind wouldn't admit it, but he needed the work, or more accurately he needed the healing potions. If he was to bring war to the Darkspawn for what they had done to the Korcari wilds and his people then he would need all the help he could get.
21308 said
It seems like everyone has chosen a tavern as the meeting place for the party Sam, that would probably be the easiest place for you to start. Once you guys get a group together I'll elaborate on those Chanter's board quests.
I'll have a post up in the next half hour or so then. Hope there's still room for a beserking barbarian Chasind!
Yog Sothoth said
so what would George's opinion on Gabriel be? He is a devout Catholic but he is part Irish and American.
Northern or Republic Irish?
How should I start posting, just pushing my way through the crowd then showing up at the tavern or what?
Yog Sothoth said
Why is he Catholic? Aren't the British mostly protestant?
Nah, there's a pretty even divide between the two.
Rin said
I take it St. George is a card-carrying member of the BNP, right? XDHmmm, I do have some ideas for villains, so I guess I need to write them up. ^^; Hmmm.
Ha yeah, he's pretty much a walking stereotype!
I'll jump on that pony too and try to flesh out Volt's rogues.
Obsidian you know, so I'll leave him.
The Highwayman, a dashing and charismatic thief, specialising in leading his gang in armoured car robberies. He takes design cues from 18th century English gentry, drives a souped up motorcycle and his Metapower is having brilliantly fast reactions, even quicker than Volts. He wields either two pistols or two sabres, with equal skill and grace.
Dr Whitechapel, a misongystic-knife nut surgeon who dabbles in the occult, purely to prolong his own lifespan. Is actually Sir William Withey Gull, the original Jack the Ripper. Has been performing blood magic and radical sciences all these years in an effort to discover true immortality, his life goal to create a world were woman are no longer required to sustain the population. Could also double as an Olympia villain. (He seems a little familiar to Count Corvus, but I'm fairly certain their modus and goals are muuuch different)
The Iron Lady, borrowed her alias from Margaret Thatcher. Complete control over magnetism, with the belief that herself and Volt were 'meant to be together'. Originally tried her hand at super-heroics, but her methods were extremely hard line. After a particularly fearsome battle with some of St Georges goons she accidentally killed several bystanders, and Volt was forced to take her down. Since then she has fled the country and is currently in hiding.
St George, a white supremacist skin head, who has super strength, durability and hyper aggression towards 'minorities' (Minorities to him being anyone who isn't a white English Catholic) One of the more brutal of Volt's foes, thankfully in jail at the moment.
and Springheel-Jack. Jack is a normal human, but an engineering savant. He built himself a exo-skelton harness that allows him to jump impossibly high and rip open steel. He also developed a skull shaped mask with a super heated blowtorch in the mouth, allowing him to melt through steel. Though he has considerably intellect and amazing inventions, he could never find something to apply himself at. To meet ends meet he eventually started robbing banks, but was swiftly stopped by Volt. Jack is what you would call a '9 to 5' crook, in that he only does what he does for money. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, and is far more likely to run from a hero than to stand and fight.
Obsidian you know, so I'll leave him.
The Highwayman, a dashing and charismatic thief, specialising in leading his gang in armoured car robberies. He takes design cues from 18th century English gentry, drives a souped up motorcycle and his Metapower is having brilliantly fast reactions, even quicker than Volts. He wields either two pistols or two sabres, with equal skill and grace.
Dr Whitechapel, a misongystic-knife nut surgeon who dabbles in the occult, purely to prolong his own lifespan. Is actually Sir William Withey Gull, the original Jack the Ripper. Has been performing blood magic and radical sciences all these years in an effort to discover true immortality, his life goal to create a world were woman are no longer required to sustain the population. Could also double as an Olympia villain. (He seems a little familiar to Count Corvus, but I'm fairly certain their modus and goals are muuuch different)
The Iron Lady, borrowed her alias from Margaret Thatcher. Complete control over magnetism, with the belief that herself and Volt were 'meant to be together'. Originally tried her hand at super-heroics, but her methods were extremely hard line. After a particularly fearsome battle with some of St Georges goons she accidentally killed several bystanders, and Volt was forced to take her down. Since then she has fled the country and is currently in hiding.
St George, a white supremacist skin head, who has super strength, durability and hyper aggression towards 'minorities' (Minorities to him being anyone who isn't a white English Catholic) One of the more brutal of Volt's foes, thankfully in jail at the moment.
and Springheel-Jack. Jack is a normal human, but an engineering savant. He built himself a exo-skelton harness that allows him to jump impossibly high and rip open steel. He also developed a skull shaped mask with a super heated blowtorch in the mouth, allowing him to melt through steel. Though he has considerably intellect and amazing inventions, he could never find something to apply himself at. To meet ends meet he eventually started robbing banks, but was swiftly stopped by Volt. Jack is what you would call a '9 to 5' crook, in that he only does what he does for money. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, and is far more likely to run from a hero than to stand and fight.
Night over Keifer Square, the seedy underbelly of Astro city. Many didn't even know that this section of town exists, preferring to think of Astro as the gleaming metropolis of tomorrow, one were the sun never stops shining. But Keifer does exist, and every now and then it spits out some new tragedy, just to remind every one that it isn't going away any time soon. Tonight that tragedy was twenty two year old Kimberly Green, a waitress at the nearby bar and grill, Grant's. On her way home from work Kimberly had been murdered by an unseen assailant, her corpse left in a grimy back alley. A shadowy figure was crouched next to her cooling body, but he wasn't the killer.
"Looks like your source was right A. The knife-work is professional, yet passionate, and the body is missing part of the liver. All trademarks of Dr Whitechapel. He's here. He's in Astro city." The figure stood, the light of a nearby street light catching him to reveal his identity. He was the Phoenix, grim guardian of New York. He has come to Astro hot on the trail of Dr William Whitechapel, better known as Jack the Ripper, arguably the most infamous serial killer of all time.
"Hmm, strange. What is Whitechapel doing in Astro City?" responded Ambrose through Phoenix's highly encrypted comms channel. Ambrose was Phoenix's long time mentor, friend and confident, and was as dedicated to catching Whitechapel as the dark avenger himself.
"He's killing innocent girls, A, that's what he's doing! She's still warm God dammit, if I'd only been faster, I might have caught him!" Spat Phoenix. He had been canvassing the area for several nights now after reports of a strange figure in the area. To know he had been so close yet to have missed his target was galling.
"You might have saved her you mean," responded Ambrose, a slight edge to his voice. Through the two way camera's in Phoenix's cowl he could just make out a slight slump in the heroes posture, as he realised his callous choice of words.
"Make sure you don't leave a trace of your being there then get home Phoenix. Just because Astro is accepting of their heroes doesn't mean you need to be announcing your presence." This order was a mere formality now, the young hero had been doing this so long that investigating crime scenes was almost second nature to him now. Still, it was a comforting routine for the two.
The immortal protector of New York pulled a grapple gun from behind his belt and fired it at the closest rooftop, beginning his slow trek back to Valiant enterprises pent house he was staying in during his visit to Astro City. The scene that he had witnessed weighed heavy on him, the knowledge that Whitechapel was still out there heavier still. The Phoenix made a silent promise to himself that he wouldn't be late the next time, that he would catch Whitechapel and make him pay for Kimberly Green, and for Mary Robert's, and for all the other innocents who had fallen for that sick psycho's pleasures.
"Looks like your source was right A. The knife-work is professional, yet passionate, and the body is missing part of the liver. All trademarks of Dr Whitechapel. He's here. He's in Astro city." The figure stood, the light of a nearby street light catching him to reveal his identity. He was the Phoenix, grim guardian of New York. He has come to Astro hot on the trail of Dr William Whitechapel, better known as Jack the Ripper, arguably the most infamous serial killer of all time.
"Hmm, strange. What is Whitechapel doing in Astro City?" responded Ambrose through Phoenix's highly encrypted comms channel. Ambrose was Phoenix's long time mentor, friend and confident, and was as dedicated to catching Whitechapel as the dark avenger himself.
"He's killing innocent girls, A, that's what he's doing! She's still warm God dammit, if I'd only been faster, I might have caught him!" Spat Phoenix. He had been canvassing the area for several nights now after reports of a strange figure in the area. To know he had been so close yet to have missed his target was galling.
"You might have saved her you mean," responded Ambrose, a slight edge to his voice. Through the two way camera's in Phoenix's cowl he could just make out a slight slump in the heroes posture, as he realised his callous choice of words.
"Make sure you don't leave a trace of your being there then get home Phoenix. Just because Astro is accepting of their heroes doesn't mean you need to be announcing your presence." This order was a mere formality now, the young hero had been doing this so long that investigating crime scenes was almost second nature to him now. Still, it was a comforting routine for the two.
The immortal protector of New York pulled a grapple gun from behind his belt and fired it at the closest rooftop, beginning his slow trek back to Valiant enterprises pent house he was staying in during his visit to Astro City. The scene that he had witnessed weighed heavy on him, the knowledge that Whitechapel was still out there heavier still. The Phoenix made a silent promise to himself that he wouldn't be late the next time, that he would catch Whitechapel and make him pay for Kimberly Green, and for Mary Robert's, and for all the other innocents who had fallen for that sick psycho's pleasures.
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