BigPapaBelial

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

The Shaman

Micheal knelt beside the shade of the girl until Amanda joined him, "I'm afraid it is indeed a child. She's not of this world. And as we were setting out the ritual elements she didn't react to them badly so she's not a wight or something like a skinwalker. So she's not here to cause ill intent." the girl suddenly bursts out, "Stop talking like I'm not right here...or...wait...you said...not of..." She looks at herself and begins to cry, "Mama...Dad...are we..." She looks up at Amanda and Micheal. Micheal sniffing then nodding, "I'm afraid so nîtim." The girl whimpers, "Can you help?" She asks. Micheal hums, "I'm not exorcist, but maybe you're still here because there is something you need to do, or something you can impart. Can you remember anything?" The girl looks in thought for abit.

After abit of silence she looks at the pair, "We...were on vacation. Dad always wanted to come back to Germany. Said his family was from here." She licks her lips and continues, "Well dad was driving and you know how guys in a car can be." She looks at Micheal almost meaningfully, "Hey I got a Harley back at home. I don't drive a car if I can help it. I'm my own navigator." He chuckles softly. the girl giggles, "Well we were lost. And well wanted to know how to get back to the main area of the city...I mean no hotels around here right?" She looks around and sighs, "Dad stopped here because he saw a bunch of guys outside. Mom went out first and when she didn't come back Dad and I came over to check and found the guards kicking and beating Mom..." she winces and grabs her shoulders, "When dad cried out in horror they saw us and one of the guard did something with his baton, there was this...blue light. It hit dad in the shoulder and he fell and hit his head..." She starts to cry. And suddenly Whiskeyjack is there gently wrapping his arms around where he figures she is. The girl leaning against the god, "Mom was on the ground...and that's when I noticed this big glowing...swirling...I don't know door? Yeah a door in the air." She looks out one of the main doors out the east entrance to where they are, "It's out there." Micheal looks over, then calls back to Manabozho and Raven, "Pack up the stuff again! I think there's a better place."

He turns back to the girl, "Can leave this area? Can you show us the place?" He looks up at Amanda, "If there was a portal there, the eddies of magic will be particularly strong. The ritual will take alot better." The girl hums pulling free of Whiskeyjacks hug and dashes out the east entrance and towards the doors. She can ghost right through but Micheal, the gods and maybe Amanda if she's of the mind, have to race after and pull the doors open. The girl is standing in the parking lot on the other side of the building from where the police are still working. She stops beside a mountain of old rotting crates and gestures, "It was here!"

Micheal smiles, "Can you smell it Amanda? The magic is strong here. It's like rain and wet earth, a pure smell, like a cool wind over a lake or river. That's magic on the air. Or atleast how I sense it." He waves to Manabozho and Raven, "Over here! Set it...here." He walks to a point, "It's strongest here." The girl calls out, "I think...I feel a pull over there." She points towards a section of what appears to be dug up earth in a corner of the lot. Micheal looks over then to Amanda, "Graves? So...the guards may have panicked then murdered the three, and to hide it buried them there do you think? I can't send souls on. It's not something I've been strong at. But helping us may help her move on. Do we know anyone who can help her? I've got a ritual to perform still but the child deserves some peace." The girl perks up, "I...can leave?" Micheal looks over while helping the gods put the ritual items in the proper places, "I hope so nîtim." the girl giggles a little, "What's that mean anyway?" she asks of Micheal who is just sitting down on the bear skin, "It's the Cree word for my female cousin." He smiles, "Didn't think you'd mind." He grins as he picks the drum up.

Micheal is about to start in on his handdrum when Whiskeyjack stops him takes the drum and with a burst of magic only a god can pull off turns it into a full size drum. Three feet across, two feet deep and thick. Micheal hums and looks at the gods who are producing chairs and proper drum sticks. Micheal snorts, "Some times you all surprise me. Alright..." He takes a seat and lights the sweetgrass, the sage and fungus. Setting them burning in sea shells beside the drum. He sniffs and takes a drumstick. Looking at the three gods then at Amanda, "Wanna see something cool?" He grins brightly. Then turns to the gods, "Alright Hoka! Let's go!"

The first beat of the drum sends a wave of magic out from it. And then the four begin the Indigenous ritual. The pow wow is one of the strongest rituals. Not just a gathering of the peoples together for fun and celebration. But when used as a ritual, a grouping of singers and the drum produced powerful magic indeed. As Micheal takes the lead in singing, it starts small, a kind of general pull. Magic about them swirling, eddying. As the ritual and drum continues, the magic answers. Spreading around the warehouse grounds. With every heavy beat that Manabozho lays to the drum more magic rises, with every high note that Raven hits, every harmony note that Whiskeyjack meets and every new stanza that Micheal sings the magic in the area answers, until there they can see the glimmering remains of a former portal. More magic flaring about the warehouse and the grounds as he goes.

And the four play on to keep the ritual going, assisting the others as best they can with the flowing magic of a aether stabilizing ritual picking out the magical from the mundane.

@Kumbaris@King Cosmos

Mad Max: Gastown Derby

@Paradoxial So is this a No go?

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

Micheal Crane

Micheal made his way into the warehouse looking around, nodding, "Place should be condemned really. But maybe I can get something out of this." He takes a quick tour of the ground floor of the place and after a few short minutes picks a place among the still standing shipping containers. A near perfect circle made of several crates and containers. With four openings leading into it. The significance is paramount atleast to the ritual magic of the indigenous peoples. The Circle representing life. And the four entrances the four directions. The four winds. The Four Prime elements. Spectacular really that such a spot would be here.

As Micheal went about setting up the spot he'd use for the ritual he looks to the left suddenly. The three gods who followed him look at him in surprise. Micheal then looks to the right, "There's someone here..." He says this loud enough that any of the other team who heard him might be able to hear him. He stands up his hand going for his tomahawk at his left hip, "What...who's there!?" He turned. And his godly friends came up beside them. Micheal spun again catching a glimpse of something or someone darting out of sight, "Who's out there?" He whipped around again, using his tomahawk to carve the cree syllabic runes for fire into the air beside him, a woosh and a orb of fire appears above his left shoulder. Then he spins again, and spots it finally. A child. Peering at him from between some of the crates. He blinks, "A child..." The gods turn and look the way he's looking. Manabozho whisper, "Micheal there's no one there..." Micheal blinks, "A sprite?...No...a spirit." The child a young girl no older then 14 or 15 edges out of her hiding spot, "You can see me?" Her voice is soft and wispy. Micheal nods, "I can child." the girl lets out a slow breath, "I'm lost...my parents...and I...we got lost on a trip...they...I think they went somewhere. But I can't leave." The three gods and shamans eyes go wide a little in surprise. This couldn't be what Micheal thought it could be...could it?

The quartet of gods and shaman trade looks. The gods can faintly hear the words. But not as clear as Micheal. Micheal turns and shouts back the way they came, "Hey! Amanda! We may have a problem here." He looks back at the spirit of the child, "I'm going to try and help you hunny. Just wait a short bit alright?" The girl nods and sits down by a crate.

In the meantime while waiting for Amanda or anyone else to show up, the gods begin to set up Micheal ritual gear. A cured buckskin sage, sweet grass, drum, and pipe set out correctly. They'd been watching Micheal do this alot, so they knew his set up. At the same time Micheal is going around and sprinkling tobacco at the entrances to the circle. Leaving room for people to come in and out, but still having the correct warding up just in case. While sprinkling some tobacco near the girl he looks at her, "None of this is making you uneasy is it kiddo?" The girl shakes her hear, "No...should it?" Micheal hums, "If it does...just let me know." Raven comes by, "Not causing the kid any pain?" Micheal shakes his head and whispers, "Atleast that means she's not malicious, the tobacco would be painful to her if it was." He sniffs and heads to the buckskin and starts to clean the bowl of the pipe, "Gotta let the boss lady know before I continue."

@Kumbaris

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

Shaman Crane

At the OMR HQ

Micheal blinks, "Under my control?" He chuckles. And looks over at the three gods who came with him. Now that the attention is off the projector, well the three are making a good go on it. Experimenting with buttons, lamp intensity, all kinds of interesting little things with the projector. At one point Raven crying out painfully as Manabozho blazes the lamp into his eyes. Whiskeyjack bursting out laughing at that a moment later.

Micheal snorts, "I wouldn't say under my control." He hums then reaches over to his duffle bag and from it he brings out a hand-drum and pulls the drum stick from inside it. The three trickster gods are so involved with the projector they don't see it. But they react when the first beats of the song reverberate from the drum. And it's not the music itself, or the beat of the drum. But it's a combination of his intent, the music and his voice and the drum that makes the three gods cover their ears and scramble back and away from the drum suddenly. They look a little affronted actually at Micheal. And once they are off the machine he stops playing, and puts the drum away, "We just have an understanding, if they wanted, and they know it, all three could easily over power me. I'm just one shaman. And they are three childish..." Raven flips Micheal off at that, "Gods." Micheal finishes, "Come on then you lot we got work to do." As if the bad moment is passed Micheal lets out a shout of surprise as he gets swarm-hugged by the three gods at once, "Ahhh hey!" The shaman shouts out.

At the warehouse

The ride over was pretty good really. But he'd somehow lost the gods along the way. Ah well, the city had the OMR headquarters nearby they were certainly to have a few people who could contain a few wayward gods.

Micheal looked out the back backseat window as they pulled up to the warehouse. He hummed softly, "That's alot of police..." He muttered. Not waiting for orders he got out of the car and while Amanda went to talk to the commander of the force on site. Micheal in the meantime went to the trunk of the car where he had put most of his gear. As Amanda went inside and reconed the building Micheal suited up. Part of being a ritualist is you need to have the tools. So as the others waited Micheal went for his gear. But as soon as he opened the trunk three shrunk down gods tumbled out with cries of relief. Micheal sighs, "You three...just...stay out of trouble and don't break or move anything. Do you understand? This is serious." The three sighed and nodded. Micheal let out a breath as he gathered his things and started to don his gear. The gods going to sit on a curb and watching.

Micheal tied his hair back into a pony tail and waited for Amanda to return. Then went to join the group as they all gathered up to look over the holographic model of the warehouse. He hummed, "I'll find a place in the warehouse to perform a scrying and ritual. Perhaps I can see something or get the magic in the area going enough to find something. There are always eddies and currents about. With a little time maybe I can stir something up." He smiled and nodded to Amanda and the rest of the group.

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

pîhtokahânapiwiýin, The Shaman

Micheal pushed off the table he's leaning on and grabs Whiskeyjack by the back of the neck as he dances by. Leaning in to look the god in the eyes, "Stop...for now. Later you can be silly but we need to get serious." The young-looking god pouts a little and nods, going to sit on a couch for now. And yes he does very much sulk and pout where he sits.

Micheal walks up closer to watch the presentation. He hums softly, one of his hands pressed to his cheek as he watches and listens. He hums. Weapons shipments...illegal weapons shipments. Sure not good juju, but why would the OMR...all the groups getting these weapons and ultimate Mr. X. "How cliche..." He said outloud, not realizing he did so. And casually reached out and smacked Whiskeyjacks hand as the god tried to reach out from behind Micheal to play with the projector. A second later Micheal did the same thing for Raven who reached a slightly feathered hand over too. And then a THIRD time when Manabozho did the same thing.

Micheal shook his head, "I have a trio of kids following me..." To which Manabozho grumped out, "Hey!"

Micheal nods, "Well I'll do my best to help out. Not sure what my skill set will help with." He grins, "But I'll help." He shrugs and nods, "So what next then?"

Mad Max: Gastown Derby

@Paradoxial

Sorry for the double post, but just want to go on record, I love the way you started your post with the rot munchers, maggot eaters, skid marks line. Really reminded me of one of the best lines from Mad Max 2. Smegma crazies to the left! The gate! Gayboy berserkers, to the gate!

Just want to say well done.

Mad Max: Gastown Derby

Interesting.

I would be interested in joining in on this.

Maybe the Scrapper perhaps. I like the idea of that.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

If it weren't for the fact he had both eyes open the view at the moment would be rather myopic for Nolan. His eye set to scope, blue center dot against black target lines. And the view of the scope alone. But with his other eye open he can get a much much better view of what's going on. And at eight hundred meters it's good he did. At that distance, even with that big .50 cal Tac50 Rifle, the two shots he had to make while Andrew had made his way down to the radar dome had been muffled by distance alone. No normal sniper or marksmen would want to make a shot at that range. But Nolan like Andrew, is a breed beyond. He'd scoped on two men, both of them would have gotten views on either Andrew or Eric. The first shot had been a 900 meter shot that had pipped the ace. Punch a hole through a man that was about to round the corner on Eric, and the stealther had been busy planting charges on some AAA emplacements.

The only thing that had alerted Eric was the mean ffffwip! of the round as it sped over him and took out the man who was just coming around the corner of a barracks building. The man was luckily unwired, and the shot had pitched him back behind some boxes where he'd be hard to find. And in the cold the body wouldn't rot to quick. The second shot had pitched a man who had yet to fully wire up down off a gangway across two buildings. He'd have had a great view of Andrew as he made his way into the radar dome. The shot had traveled just over 810 meters to slam into the man, pitch him back over a railing and down between two buttress sections to the main base. Hard to see from all angles but the one looking right down it. And no one would expect him to report quite yet. Good shots all around. As he lifted his head a little to check other views his comms beep and he hums softly responding, "Ten-Four there Cordite One. I have eyes on Osprey right now."

Moments later Eric responds, "I can feel your eyes on me Cordite Two. Fantastic shot earlier. I moved that one into cover abit more. I'm about a third done right now. I've managed to wire several of these sites up together. Hidden the cords and patched them into one of four detonators I have with me. I'm moving into section Alpha one four Beta right now. Along the back of the Control tower. I saw afew SPAAG's back there. Tunguska's, Gepards, and what looked like a M6 Linebacker. I want to get rid of those things of course. They could be really dangerous."

Nolan sniffed and watched as Eric ghosted along past patrols and OpFor standing around drum fires and at security posts. It was like watching Sam Fisher or something in action. A silver, blue, grey and black one eyed ghost picking his way over the ground. Nolan was privy to a point when Eric had to unsheath a karambit and stuff it into the back of a OpFor skull. He could almost imagine the crunch. What surprised him though was the barely heard over the comms, "That's for my brother Markus." As he'd pulled the body out of sight before continuing on.

Nolan's eyes narrowed, "Amen brother..." He whispered, and unholstered his pistol pointing it in the direction that Andrew is coming just in case the foot steps he hears aren't his fellow snipers.

----------------

In the tilt-rotor Victor smiled, "I've been hoping to do this for some time my dear." He moves his paints and turns in his seat. And not caring it anyone watches, begins to apply them to Natalie's face. Deft strokes with his thumg and forefinger. The blue-black base across her face from brow to chin. Carefully applying the color of the night sky. He smiled, lovingly applying the paint. Then after that he applys a layer of white and grey, the colors of the moon. He nods as the shapes come out carefully. He takes his time, making sure it looks as good as he can get it.

As he works he whispers, "You know...there's an ancient custom, that a future married couple before going into a momentous occasion would paint each other with a chosen theme." He nods as he carefully spreads the paint, "This...could very well be our courtship painting."

He applies the last stroke then grinds the last of the paint on his finger across the back of his armor, if anyone got close enough to see the white-grey streak it'd be too late for them anyway.

He leans back and nods, "The Moons Gaze. Steadfast, strong, wise." He nods, and leans in and gives his fiancee a fierce kiss. Fuck anybody who gets uncomfortable about PDA.

Carl had watched the whole thing. Observing the moment. His own native origins saying this is a solemn and special occasion to see. When it's over he nods, "Hoka...that was magnificent."

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

Michael Crane and Whiskeyjack

Michael gazed about the room at the assembled people. Appears to be quite the interesting group. All of them standing out to members of the OMR in some way. Quite interesting really. Why they would call up an unofficial and reserve member like him is curious. Perhaps they needed his skills. Ah well it'd come out in the open eventually. Michael took himself off to the side. Easily addressed but not too far away as to play the loner. It also afforded him an interesting view.

That being the byplay between Whiskeyjack and one Faye Hayward. See the trickster god is used to being overlooked, it's how he does some of his best work. In fact all the trickster gods work better that way. So for the teenaged looking god to suddenly have someone besides Michael walk up, look him over and speak to him. Well Whiskeyjack is taken quite a back. In fact again it takes him abit to regain his balance. Then the god walks right up to Faye and with a slightly affronted tone to be honest atleast at first starts to spin a tale.

"The story goes that it was Oymantiou who was here first. Along side others like Uranus and other creator gods. They made the world. From highest peak to lowest gorge. Light, dark, cold and warm. They did it all. But it was Oymantiou who made the first man you know. From clay and mud and sticks and berries. He formed the shape of the first man. And when Oymantiou breathed life into this first man. He named him Wesakechak. Meaning First-born. And you know what. I was right there to see it." Whiskeyjack grins. "You wanted to know stories. I have many." The trickster chuckles then dances away pulling a handdrum from the air and begins a Round Dance beat. Singing and dancing about the outer edge of the room.

Michael sighs and shrugs if he gets any looks, "He's harmless." Said moments before Whiskeyjack manages to break a coffee table. The shaman grins "Kinda?"

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

Micheal Crane

Micheal had gotten some directions from a well meaning OMR agent in the foyer. He'd waited of course for the others who arrived just right ahead of him to enter first. And he's standing at the rear of the group slightly to the left, his duffle bag over his shoulder. He smiles, "Good medicine."

The reveal though is astonishing, "A living machine." Micheal's eyes wide as he observes. The initial shock broken when standing up from behind a drape Whiskeyjack mutters, "Damn! new reason to a hard life. She's all hard." Micheal growls, "I swear. I will bind you if I have too." He then turns to the rest, "My apologies. I have a trio of hitchhikers with me. usually I'd charge gas money but I came by plane." He turns to the grinning god with a stern look, "How did you get in here anyway?" Whiskeyjack grins, "There's a door, and it's not my fault if no one is paying attention to the guy in the headdress." He shrugs and gives a really good impression of the cheshire cat right then. And all Micheal can do is shrug in apology.

"But seriously, that incredible eh? And the rest of us. Quite a crew here. Makes you wonder what's we're all going to be able to bring to the table." He idly begins to flip his tomahawk in hand, almost casual in it's movements, "Hello everyone." He finally finishes with, a big grin on his face. He's about to ask for information on what is going to happen when his gaze fell on Ullross or Ross. His eyes narrowed, and gleamed. Staring right at a tall dark formless mass hovering about him. He'd seen free spirits that could walk and move and interact. He'd seen gods not quite ready to manifest. And he'd faced dark spirits, malicious and angry. But this thing hovering over Ross, is something else. For a moment he grips the handle of his tomahawk tightly, then reigns in his reactions, not a good time to react.

He gulps then looks about, regaining his composure, "Micheal Crane, pîhtokahânapiwiýin among the Shamans of Canada and the United States. Don't expect me to speak much German. It's a pleasure to meet you all."