Naril

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations: A Modern Fantasy Adventure

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations

A Modern Fantasy Adventure

An introduction

The moon was a crescent of hard silver light the night Cameron walked into the aging room of his distillery and found a spider the size of a Volkswagen. There were other shapes nearby - coccoons, smaller than a person but not by so much that he thought he'd stick around and take a closer look. Cameron swallowed hard and backed out of the rooom, afraid that if he rolled the door shut he might wake the thing up. At the same time, though, if he left the door open, the spider might have an easier time getting out. Deciding that discretion really was the better part of valor, or at least of not being eaten at exactly this second, he walked backwards with slow steps past the threshold, back out into the night. Overhead, a sodium lamp cast harsh orange shadows over the rust-streaked exterior of the huge warehouse, lent only a little extra color by the watery headlights of Cameron's truck, which had been new sometime before the first time humans set foot on the Moon.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen, then back up at the door to the aging room. He called up a dial pad, but...who was he supposed to call? The police? Animal control? An exterminator? He imagined the last conversation and let out the first bite of a barking, hysterical laugh, something that yipped out of his mouth and bounced off the corrugated metal wall in a sharp spray of discordant echoes. In front of him, the huge spider shifted, one giant leg coming uncurled from the apparently-sleeping mass with an almost delicate motion. Cameron took a step back, the phone slipping out of his hand, panic welling up behind his eyes while he watched another leg unfold, opposite the first. No longer caring how much noise he made, Cameron scrambled toward his truck, out of view of the door, and started digging in his jacket for his keys.

He was well into dropping them for the third time when he heard another sound coming up the driveway, this time something more familiar. Tires crunched on the gravel road, along with...something else. Cameron turned away from the slowly-unfurling spider, raising one hand against the glare of another pair of headlights, the sound of John Denver's Country Roads wafting into the night. The lights resolved into another truck, just a little newer than his own, and it came to a sliding, skidding halt a couple of meters from the door, spraying gravel all the way to Cameron's boots.

The truck's doors opened and a handful of people piled out, stepping over one another in no particularly good order. In the headlights' glare, Cameron couldn't quite see who these people were, save for the driver, who stepped out and took the few paces over to the man with long, quick strides. He could just make out her blue-green eyes, the curve of a cheekbone, the cut of her tailored suit. She looked at him, then at the warehouse, then back, and she shoved a hand through sweat-dampened hair.

"Hey, so," she said, sounding almost a little sheepish, "I've got a weird question for you."

Cameron looked at the woman, at the shapes of people behind her, back at his warehouse. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a kind of squeak.

"Right," the woman said, "Look - this probably sounds ridiculous, but..." She took a deep breath and pointed at the building, "Is there a huge spider in there?"

Cameron gawped, a proper gawp, the kind that left his jaw hanging loose for a moment. It took him a long, long moment to get enough of his muscles under control to nod and point.

"Okay, thanks." The woman turned and gave a thumbs-up to the people behind her, and they came forward.

Cameron saw the group now, in the hard shadows of two sets of headlights. They didn't look 'official' - no matching suits, no coordinated gait, not even the same kinds of haircuts. One held a shotgun, another had something wrapped around his arm, three objects pulsing with white light orbiting it with no obvious connection to one another. The woman, though, his attention kept coming back to her. He couldn't help it, something he could no more resist than the pull of gravity.

"Who...who are you?" Cameron managed, after what felt like an eternity.

"Ah," the woman said, "...I'm Morgan. We're from Priest and Hawthorne Investigations."

Behind her, the spider had finished unfolding. It turned in place, its legs making the kind of thumping sounds on the ground Cameron usually associated with forklifts. One of the newcomers shouted, and the shotgun boomed. Cameron winced and fell against his truck, hands covering his ears. Morgan, for her part, stood steadfast and turned toward the warehouse. The spider shrieked, the sound almost louder than the shotgun. Morgan turned toward the warehouse, then looked back at Cameron. To her left, the metal wall buckled, and half a meter of monsterous spider-leg punched through and started slowly tearing the sheet metal toward the ground.

"I wouldn't worry," Morgan said, reaching into her jacket, "We have this perfectly under control."

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Hi there!

Welcome to an interest check for Priest & Hawthorne Investigations, a modern-fantasy RP that I've been putting back together for a little while.

In this story, the players will take the part of people working for the titular Priest & Hawthorne Investigations, a small paranormal-detective service operating out of a large American city. You are people from all walks of life, and have come to PHI by various means - maybe you're a police detective who couldn't overlook something that was obviously a monster attack, maybe you're a Real Actual Wizard but still need a way to make rent, maybe you're a park service ranger who's seen one too many Bigfeet. Whatever the reason, you're living in that liminal space between the mundane and the supernatural, and sometimes helping keep people safe from things that they never knew meant them harm.

The tone of this story is going to be along the lines of Hellboy, The Dresden Files or The Iron Druid Chronicles, probably with a dose of Hellblazer, The Sandman, and because I don't believe in grimdark, Ghostbusters.

I don't mean to scare anyone off, but I tend to have rather high standards for posts and characters. I'd like this to be quite a small group of people (maybe up to five, including myself), and it will not be first-come, first-served. I don't have specific roles in mind, but I would ask that you consider what makes a good team dynamic and a good story. I am, for example, generally not looking for silent and distant loners, violence-crazed psychopaths, vengeance-driven walking armories, or children.

I do have several story arcs in mind, but they're deliberately designed to be flexible and to allow the players to push on the world; I will rarely say "no, you can't do that," since the yes-and of collaborative storytelling is my favorite part. :3 That is to say that this is emphatically not a bring-your-own-adventure sandbox, although I am more than happy (and am expecting to) tailor the world for the characters in it.

So, that's the pitch. The IC thread will very likely be the continuation of the introductory scene above.

Who's interested? :3

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

Boats really should rock, Rin decided. Not too much, just enough to give you that quiet sense of motion and make it hard to stay awake. And a drink - a proper boat should have a drink. Then again, this was hardly a proper boat at all; the hum of the repulsorlift made that more clear than anything else. The hull was over a meter from the water below, and she could hear the occasional snap of an electric discharge from the lift pads. And, of course, to every side, the sound of a blaster turret’s power generator, the scent of armored suits, and a wire-taut tension she needed none of her unusual senses to feel.

She sat on a crate of spare ammunition, legs up over the speeder’s railing, leaning on the huge blaster emplacement welded to the back of the transport. There would be excitement in the fullness of time, but for now, the only sounds nearby did little else but lend texture to the quiet. Rin tilted her head back and pulled in a long breath of the heavy, wet air, and took care to listen.

“You think she’s really blind?” came a voice - a man, Krenna, young enough to make Rin feel nostalgic. He hadn’t stopped staring at her since Resol had introduced them.

“The fuck does it matter?” Another voice, this time that of a young woman, Soli. Modulated through her helmet, the harsh edges from her accent were rounded off.

Krenna made a dubious noise, “I dunno, just….you don’t think that’s a little weird?”

The sound of someone moving quietly in armor, “I think you’re weird, Krenna.”

“I’m just saying-” Krenna began, but then the whole boat shifted, tipping everyone standing just a step off balance.

Rin swung her legs off the railing, coming to her feet while the boat rocked with a second shockwave, stronger than the first, enough so that she could feel the heat of the blast on her cheek. The sound of explosions, fractured into a thousand muted echoes washed over the boats, startling small flying animals into the air with their own multifarious cacophony.

Rin could feel the way her crew’s attention snapped into focus, radio chatter streaming in through their commlinks in a sudden crescendo. The same sounds tickled Rin’s ear where the comm-link nestled, hers without the benefit of a helmet. Two assaults, the first big and flashy, the other doubtless to become so, but only one that really mattered. Rin took a last long breath, letting the taste of moss and green leaves linger in her mouth before she spoke.

“Mister Krenna,” Rin said, “Ahead full, signal the other boat to follow at ten meters’ distance. I want the cannons ready to fire by the time we clear the breakwater. Soli, on the cannon controls, and wait for my command to open fire.”

The two nodded and moved with the competent speed that only comes from long practice. That swiftness of action should have been reassuring, but it was taking a considerable amount of Rin’s willpower to not get lost in the details of the life, the purpose swirling in coruscating arcs about her charges. This wasn’t the first time she’d been surrounded by people filled with the kind of purpose that Mandalorian training could bring to bearm and the last time hadn’t gone well for anyone involved. Memories made sour by time and distance threatened to burst anew, and that was something nobody could afford at the moment.

Instead, she focused her attention on the world ahead of the boat. They picked up speed, but the steady stream of sodden air past her skin did little to pull the sweat away. The boats were quiet, but there would be guards at the Sultana’s manor, and they wouldn’t be friendly. The boat tilted beneath her, coming around a stand of gnarled trees. At the same instant, or even before, Rin shifted her weight, wrapped her fingers around the boat’s railing, and closed her eyes. Her world shifted, changed, her awareness no longer centered only on her body.

Chaos, panic, pain, fury, precision - everything Rin could feel swirled in an ugly maelstrom. Ghosts of sounds swept by her, the thrum of weapons, the crunch of a thrown fist, a dozen different orders. Pain, too, crackled through her mind, fractal and branching. It should have been overwhelming, part of her wanted it to be. But instead, Rin picked the pieces out that she needed, letting everything else slide through her mind like water through a net.

The boats shifted again, rushing up to the manor’s breakwater with an eerily quiet speed. Rin spent another moment in her reverie, then pulled her awareness back to herself with another effort of will. She unwrapped her hands from the railing, looking straight ahead, her hair lashing behind her in the slipstream.

“Soli, get the cannon hot,” Rin said, and raised one hand, “On my signal.”

Another rising whine, this one of the blaster’s power supply coming to life. Even at the prow of the speeder, Rin could feel the heat coming off the thing. A few seconds later, and the boats cleared the breakwater, engines still whirring at full speed.

Rin spoke the instant they were past the breakwater, “Turret ahead, twenty meters to starboard, take it down while they’re trying to figure out where to aim.” She dropped her arm, the signal to fire, and the world exploded, torn apart by the sound of heavy blaster fire.

“Target down,” came Soli’s voice in Rin’s ear, “But they damn well know we’re here now.”

“Pull up to the dock,” Rin said, “Keep the blasters hot, that won’t be the last time we need them.” She turned, pointing to the crew of the other boat, “Keep a pilot with the boat, the rest of you, with me. Krenna, Soli, shoot anything that even smells Imperial.”

She paused, “...And blow a hole in the wall while you’re at it, we may as well take some of the heat off Resol and the boys.”

The boats swept up through the harbor, moving with comparative freedom - the docks had been made for luxury ships and pleasure cruisers, and provided more than enough space for the pair of overpowered transport skimmers, though they crushed a few timbers coming to a stop. Rin hopped off the railing, heavy blaster bolts roaring past her, the sound of shattered masonry filling her ears. Dust rolled in a cloud and she couldn’t help but cough, but that was no barrier to knowing what lay behind the wall. Half a dozen manor staff, heavily armed, standing with what could only be an Imperial stormtrooper. Through the smoke and billowing dust, she could see them coming to their feet, hands grabbing for weapons.

Rin reached to the small of her back, pulled out her stunstick. The snap of it clattering out to its full length came in counterpoint to the shattered pieces of wall settling against themselves, underlined by the quiet buzzing of the electrode at its tip.

“Walk away,” Rin said, “This isn’t worth your lives. Please.” Her voice was a command, clearer than a bell and loud enough to made her own ears hurt.

The men behind the wall looked at one another, then to the stormtrooper. Rin couldn’t see behind his helmet, but he could see the way his thoughts gathered about him, and she was ready when the man raised his weapon. She ducked, the blaster bolt coming close enough to her head that it burned a lock of her hair, and launched herself at him. Behind her, Resol’s troops raised their own weapons, the sharp reports of blasters tearing the air anew.

The first bolts went wide, of course they did. The dust hadn’t entirely settled, and there were too many targets, too many things moving too quickly. Rin strode forward, her legs swallowing the short distance between her and the knot of manor guards. Another shot and she spun, moving like a dancer, another bolt flying past with a finger’s width to spare, her pace never slowing. With a viper-quick motion, she grabbed the trooper’s weapon by the barrel and forced the barrel up, her ears assaulted by the noise of another blaster bolt. The trooper made a noise somewhere between a yelp and a gurgle, and Rin twisted at her hips, yanking the man off balance and throwing the weapon behind her with a clatter.

She brought the stunstick up in a hard, sharp jab at the joint in his armor between the breastplate and his helmet, meant to leave the man a quivering puddle on the ground. But the trooper had been well-trained, and he recovered quickly, sweeping his own arm down and deflecting the strike, the electrified tip of the stunstick skittering over his armor. In the skin of a second, the trooper pulled a short knife from his belt, and he punched it toward Rin’s side. Her feet still planted, she shoved hard at the trooper, felt him tip past his point of balance, and felt the hard, but blunt, impact of the trooper’s armored forearm rather than the knife. The man fell to the floor in a clatter of armor, and Rin took a step forward.

In that quiet fraction of a second, Rin could see that to either side, a pair of the other manor guards had fallen, shot by Resol’s troops. Another was apparently running, having thrown his weapon behind him; the gods alone knew where he thought he’d get to. The trooper, though, grunted, and started to shove himself to his feet. Rin kicked at the hand that held the knife, a movement bringing the power of her entire body along with it. She felt bones crunch at the blow, heard the knife go clinking away across the manor’s floor. This time, the stunstick found its mark, and Rin shoved it hard against the trooper’s neck, until she knew he wouldn’t be bothering anyone until long after they were gone.

Another blaster bolt, and one of the remaining manor guards collapsed in a heap, weapon spinning out of his hand. Rin was only a couple of meters away, and she saw the guard look at the pair of Mandalorian warriors, then at her, and swing his elaborately-engraved rifle toward her. One of Rin’s charges was reloading, and the second missed her shot, the bolt going wide of the last guard. He was too far to close the distance before he could pull the trigger, and too close to have any expectation that he could miss.

Rin’s arm moved with the kind of speed that seemed like it might produce its own thunderclap, a hard, fast overhead arc. A piece of a second later and the remaining manor guard screamed, his left arm going numb at the impact of Rin’s thrown stunstick, his shot hitting nothing but air. At the same moment, Rin yanked her own sidearm from its holster, brought it up in her free hand, and split the air with a final bolt.

Rin holstered her weapon, walked over to the man she had just killed. She swallowed, leaned down and picked up her stunstick, only now realizing how hard she was breathing, how her heart was pounding in her ears. She collapsed it, but didn’t return that to its holder, keeping her fingers wrapped around its familiar shape.

“You two,” Rin said, pointing at Resol’s troops, half-swallowing a breath, “Make sure the rest of the docks are clear. I don’t think there’s anyone out there, but we should check anyway. Be ready to get back on the boats once Resol gets here, the less time we’re near this place, the better we’ll be.”

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Rin brought her hand to her commlink, pressing the transmit button. “Docks secure,” she said, “And we made you a new exit, too, if you get lost. If-” Her voice trailed off.

There was something else coming. Something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. With a start, Rin looked to the sky, her head twisting to the decoy attack.

“Fighters!” She yelled into the commlink, “Fighters incoming, coming from the east!” She swallowed, and made her way back toward the dock proper, “Resol, hurry it up, we’re about to have to deal with air support.”

All Together Now (Superhero Team RP)

Wow, the week got away from me.

Writing this evening and tomorrow. I'll be out of town starting on Friday, but I'll be somewhere with great internet access and very few things occupying my evenings, so.

Symphonis: Three Part Sci-Fi Adventure

The idea and the pedigree of others expressing interest have piqued my curiosity in a big way. :3

All Together Now (Superhero Team RP)

I managed to break my glasses while I was out this weekend, and just now got into some emergency-backup contacts and reading glasses. Writing commencing shortly!

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

Saerin Taal

Character Sheet

Name: Saerin (Rin) Taal
Species: Miraluka
Age: 36
Rank/Title: None
Role: Physical security expert / Close-quarters combatant / Chaplain
Planet of Origin/Birth: Coruscant

Appearance:

Not exactly an imposing figure, Rin stands somewhat less than galactic average in her stocking feet. Not that you would mistake or miss her in a crowd - her body language, posture, and the timbre of her voice draws the eye though she does little to actually demand the spotlight. Her olive skin has been kissed by the sun of a hundred worlds, and her hair is dark, tied behind her head in a short and ragged tail. She has large, almond-shaped eyes, the irises and pupils milky-white and blank but no less intense for that. The line of her jaw is strong, her lips full, her brows expressive, the whole lately made tight with care and the rigors of a life under fire. She has a dancer's build made of strong, lean curves, her frame quick and flexible and with the grace that only comes from decades of careful practice of martial arts. Finally, Rin has strong, long-fingered hands, marked with several small scars, quick enough to be blurs in the air when she puts her mind to it.

Rin's dress sense tends toward the simple and practical over anything else. She prefers close-fitting tank tops along with loose, comfortable pants and worn boots outside of engagements, usually in tones of blue and brown. In colder temperatures, she prefers a battered brown leather jacket, the lining thick enough to be comfortable to about freezing. She has several large scars scattered across her body, the most visible being the one that cuts through her left eyebrow and crosses her eye socket for a couple of centimeters, and the largest on the right side of her abdomen, where very few people will see it. She has no tattoos, but wears a pendant around her neck. Her ears are pierced several times, but only occasionally hold jewelry.

Skills:

Rin is, despite her stature, a phenomenon in close-quarters combat. Not through brute force, but through an utterly uncanny ability to simply be where the opponent wishes she weren't, to devastating effect. The idea that a good large person will beat a good small person is certainly no less true - but there's something spooky about Saerin. Weapons move like lightning in her hands, she flows away from blows that would crush her bones to powder, and she makes the finest gunslingers look almost sloppy in comparison. No less impressive is her ability to defeat any door lock she's ever met, walk past cameras by dancing between their fields of view (or finding their common control points to disable them), or simply spot the hidden doors guards might use and follow one of them inside. She isn't a slicer - that's a different discipline - but she can walk through a building like a ghost, implanting remote-connection points to get slicers a point of access behind firewalls or to otherwise air-gapped security control points. Though few take advantage of the fact, Rin seems to be, or at least was, deeply religious, though perhaps not to any particular religion. Her knowledge of temples, prayer, rites for the living and dead, and any number of other pieces of mysticism seems to be entirely bottomless.

- Combat Training - Rin will work very hard to close the distance to anyone she actually has to fight and engage up-close, handheld blaster-pistol distance being the furthest she prefers.
- Intrusion - You won't know she was there, until you do, and at that point it's too late.
- Mystic - Rin isn't the squad's counselor or soother of wounded souls, but sometimes there are words to say, and those words are prayers. Or the words of a code, credo, or scripture - if someone needs them, Rin probably has them.
- Polyglot - Rin speaks half a dozen languages, including Mando'a.

Equipment:

- Very pointedly not a suit of Mandalorian armor. No breastplate, no gauntlets, no helmet. She does have that battered leather jacket, though.
- Extending shock-stick; collapses to about 20cm and extends to a full meter.
- RSKF-44 blaster pistol, typically in thigh holster
- Collection of lock-bypass, cable-splice, and other small hand tools in tight leather roll
- Collection of wireless interface ports for remote computer system access
- A leather satchel with "personal effects." Some of these are books. One is an apparently-seamless metal box about 30x8x8cm, elaborately engraved with a design that seems to, but never quite does, repeat. It is not a book.

History:

"I'm not wearing that," Rin said.

She dropped the helmet on Resol's desk, a hollow bass thump filling the small room for a moment. She shoved it across the desktop towards the older man, the edge of the helmet leaving a fresh scrape in the scarred hardwood. Resol, for his part, remained impassive, but this was not getting off on the best foot.

"This is a unit of Mand-" he began.

"This is a unit of Alliance soldiers," Rin cut in, "You're the one making them into toy Mandalorians."

Resol took a moment, a slow breath. "You will allow me to speak." His words concealed a smouldering volcano.

Rin opened her mouth, a retort ready and acid on the tip of her tongue. Something dark and unpleasant flickered behind her eyes, and she paused. With care, she blew out the breath she'd pulled in, and relaxed her shoulders. She flexed her fingers, took another long, slow breath and, at length, nodded.

"Miss Taal," Resol began again, "My unit is one that follows Mandalorian culture and tradition. My culture and tradition. I have taught them in the ways of my people. They fight, they win. They speak the words, they wear the armor. They are my brothers, my clan, my people. Do you understand?"

Rin chose her words carefully, and settled on a pair. "I do.""

Resol watched Rin with equal care, and nodded.

"I've had my little collection of misfits for some time," he said, "And now, you. A mystery. A troublesome mystery, if your transfer papers are any indication." He picked up a datapad, "Bounced to three different commands in six months, with spells in four different brigs. Exceptionally skilled, but nobody seems to want you around after a couple of weeks. In fact, it is my understanding that your choices were this posting or prison." The ghost of a smile pulled at his lips, "Which isn't exactly an uncommon story around here.""

"The question, becomes, then," Resol continued, "Why you're here at all. Why not disappear to Nar Shadaa or Jakku?"

"I serve the Republic," Rin said, "The Alliance means well - given time and the chance, they may even succeed. But right now, they're walking in circles. You...aren't."

Resol scrolled through the datapad, his eyes flicking to the woman in front of him between the scant few paragraphs. After a moment, he tossed it on the table where it bounced against the helmet. There was nothing useful on it.

"Who are you, Saerin Taal?" He said, after a moment.

"Do you ask all of your transfers that?" Rin replied.

A grin tugged at one side of Resol's mouth, "Only the ones I might trust my life to."

"Mmn," Rin said, more acknowledgement than anything that might be called agreement.

"I was educated on Coruscant," she said, after a long pause, "A rather small field. My parents design starships, my sister is...a sort of academic. All of us are running from the Empire; we're all fighting in our own ways."

Resol waited for a moment, then sighed, "That's it?"

"I'm saving the rest for my autobiography," Rin said, "The chapter about group sex should make it fly off the shelves. I'll be rich."

"And you don't care for Mandalorians." At this point, Resol knew better than to ask.

Rin regarded the older man, her expression level and distant. "Personal experience."

"This unit functions a certain way, Miss Taal," Resol said, "Regardless of your feelings."

"The Resol'nare," Rin interjected, and looked at Resol cooly, "And don't think I haven't noticed. I know the Six Actions, you won't need to worry about babysitting."

"We speak the language. We wear the armor," the older man said, and put his hand on the helmet, "Do you plan to walk into battle all but naked?"

"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam," Rin said, the words made almost seamless by her liquid accent, "I am here to fight, Resol. I'm here to fight for something I love, and something I believe in. I'll follow your orders, if they aren't completely insane. If restoring the Republic means standing with you, then I will do so with my last breath. I'll speak the language. I will teach and learn. But I won't wear that armor."

"You must have something," Resol said, "Aruetii or no, death is hard. Yours will do nothing for my squad."

Rin looked down at the pile of armor on the table, dull grey with red accents, no two plates quite alike. She wondered who it had belonged to before, and chose not to look too deeply into that question. Instead, she focused her attention on what it contained - not the fabric or the circuitry or the pressure seals, but what the armor was made from. The intention of its maker, long lost to history, the purpose of its many owners. There were secrets, mistakes, regrets, woven into the armor's very quintessence - and there was something else.

Moving with care, Rin unhooked the curved armor plate from the suit's left shoulder, scarred and burned from a hundred misadventures. She held it in her upturned palm, closed her eyes, and focused her mind.

In her hand, the plate crumbled, slowly at first, but with every second it fell apart into fine, dark grains. They cascaded across Rin's palm, flowing like fine sand, and fell to the floor with a quiet hiss. Rin's head tilted slightly to one side, then the other, a look of intense, almost serene concentration on her face. At length, she was left with a handful of black grit, a bead of sweat trickling from her hairline and down one side of her cheek. With her free hand, she fished around in the pile, and extracted something beautiful.

She held a piece of what could only be called jewelry, fine arcs and whorls describing something both abstract and definite, every part connected to every other. She shook the grit out of the piece and thumped it against her hand, and fine though it was, nothing shifted out of place. In the light, it gleamed with a familiar matte-silver color.

"Beskar," Rin said. She tugged a fine chain from around her neck, and busied herself with threading the pendant onto it.

The pair watched one another in ferocious silence, the only sound in the room coming from the pile of black grit settling against itself. The quiet was not the kind that begged to be filled with words, because there were none. This was the kind where truth devoured words, where they would be unwelcome. In that stretched, taut-wire moment, understanding spread across two different people. And, at last, Resol was the one to tilt his head first in an infinitesimal nod.

"We leave in the morning," He said.

All Together Now (Superhero Team RP)

Well, I'm heading to a retreat this weekend, but I'll see about writing another post to move the warehouse along while I'm out there. :3

All Together Now (Superhero Team RP)

So, what comes next? :3 Are we waiting on our dear GM for a plot-flavored post, or should we keep makin' stuff up while we go along?

All Together Now (Superhero Team RP)

There was a giant death robot in the warehouse.

The emergency-services perimeter was still being assembled, and from the frantic sound of voices crossing through radios, there would be at least a few more minutes before anyone made a concerted effort to approach the warehouse. After all, the place had exploded, and might explode again - that plume of smoke was impressive, and who knows what else might be stored here? The professionals, with all due haste but also all due good sense, would probably not be hurrying to send people in. These happy thoughts flickered through Indira's mind when she stepped over what had once been the warehouse's door frame and into the gloomy, smoke-blackened interior. After that, the giant death robot had her rather preoccupied.

Although the machine bristled with weapons and its armored carapace seemed all but untouched by the blast, dangling hydraulic hoses and one leg missing from the shin down suggested that though it was impressive, it also wasn't finished. The missing leg, in fact, lay across several worktables to one side, leaving the whole machine to be supported by massive chains leading to support beams high overhead. With an effort, Indy pulled her attention away and took in the rest of the building, her eyes adjusting slowly to the semi-darkness. She made her way into the building with careful steps, both to keep quiet and to avoid disturbing anything that looked like it might become evidence.

She took a step further into the place, and the lights went out. There weren't that many left intact after the explosion to begin with, but she hadn't expected the sudden drop into near-total darkness. Another step and her foot brushed against something while she dug in her jacket for her penlight, and she knelt to take a closer look. A moment later, she stuck the light between her teeth and reached down, suddenly unconcerned about fingerprints.

"What the hell...?" Indy muttered to herself.

She scooped up a rounded, three-lobed object a little smaller than her palm, each lobe connected to a central body. She turned it upside down and ran a finger across the underside of each protrusion, face setting into an expression of deep concern.

Rustling and the sound of footsteps disturbed the quiet behind her. Indy sprang back to her feet and spun toward the noise, spring-coiled muscles pivoting and setting her weight in the skin of a second. She brought her free hand up into a ready position, fingers curled. Power surged in her body, and a cupped barrier field formed in the air half a meter in front of her. An instant later it flared into brilliance, a sudden spotlight lancing out where she thought the sound had come from.

-------------------
No one. Jake couldn’t tell if there was a single person inside this building as the whole room was dark except for a few stray lights. That wasn’t the strangest thing though. Large and odd machinery lay strewn across the entire building. He had no idea what any of it could be for but the inclusion of weaponry was fairly unsettling.

Slowly Jake made his way to what seemed to be the direction of the blast. Quietly he followed scorch marks eventually locating what he thought was some computer-esque object, but with the low lighting and the device being mostly destroyed he couldn’t really tell whether it was an accident or not.

The young cop wanna be couldn’t investigate any further as the lights decided to go out completely. ”Well, that’s just great.” Jake began digging though his backpack for some sort of light when he heard a very faint noise. Not really thinking, Jake began heading in the direction not concerned about keeping quiet. However, before he could reach his destination a bright light shone upon him causing Jake to reel back from the sudden glow.

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Indira relaxed her hand, the light vanishing and leaving only her penlight on. She reached up and pulled it from between her teeth, keeping it pointed at the young man, but not directly.

"Right," she said, "Which one are you, then?"

Jake looked at the woman in front of him uncertain of what to say. He knew that New York had a lot of ‘supers’ but he hadn’t really planned on encountering one. Not knowing what to say he picked a random thing on the top of his mind to call himself for now, I don’t really have a name to give you. Just call me Rhoman, I guess. What am I to call you?”

One dark eyebrow rose over an eye, taking a second to look the young man over.

"Mmn. I admit that I don't recall hearing that name. New in town? That’s not important, I suppose." She waved the hand with the penlight, dismissing the thought.

"My name is Indira. Or Miss Bhatia, if you like. If you call me Tensor to my face, I may get irritated." The last came with the ghost of a smirk, "We don't all make good decisions under pressure."

She looked up and down the warehouse and sighed, "We aren't going to have much time, I think. Once the smoke clears, they'll start sending someone in to take a look around, and I’m certain I'd rather not have to explain myself to the bomb squad while standing in the middle of an explosion. But take a look at this-" She held the device she'd picked up off the ground up, flashing the penlight over it.

"I designed this. Well," she said hurriedly, "Not..this exactly. But these repulsor pads, this arrangement - what I built was supposed to be a camera drone for..." her voice trailed off, "...a client. This looks like my drone, but I'm pretty sure this center area here, you see? That looks like something explosive." She bobbled the thing in her hands, the repulsor pads clicking against the central body.

"I don't know what's going on here, but..." Noises came from outside, the sound of diesel power coming closer, "What have you seen in here? Where did you come in from, anyway?"

”Well, I walked through the walls. The only thing I’ve seen is the obvious machinery and I did locate a possible source of the blast. It was some sort of computer like device. I can’t be too sure though as the whole thing was mostly reduced to ash.”

From where he stood, Jake did a quick glance over the rest of the building as well as he could. Nothing that seemed to stick out. ”Do you have an idea of where this client could be right now? If we could find them then we might be able to figure out how that got here. I don’t think exiting through the door would be a good idea. I can phase you though the wall if you need me to.”

"Through the walls, hm?" Indy said, “That will be new.”

She regarded the drone in her hand, "Mmn. I don't usually keep track of my clients once I've finished something for them. Then again, I also try not to design flying, explosive, autonomous grenades."

Indy opened her mouth to say something else, but at the same moment, her jacket chirped. She tossed the penlight out of her hand and a pair of gently-glowing rings appeared, suspending the light midair. With her newly free hand, she reached into her jacket and pulled out her phone, taking a look at the screen. Her eyes widened.

"Someone just attacked the Mayor's fundraiser," she said, speaking quickly, her eyes flicking over her screen, "Soldiers with artificial enhancements, advanced weapons..." She lowered the phone and looked around.

"Start taking pictures," Indy said, "We have to get this documented."

She snatched the penlight out of the air, then kept her arm raised, fingers curling. Another brilliant light appeared a couple of meters overhead and bathed the warehouse in bright, even illumination. In the light, Indy saw another set of worktables, and even through the soot, she could see careful rows of transparent cases holding artificial limbs, eyes, and what looked suspiciously like some kind of neural interface equipment.

"That's...not good," she said.

Her phone, wrapped in its own field, hung in the air to her side. It slowly spun in place, taking in a panorama, the interface cheerful and bright with helpful tips. Indira's eyes flicked around the warehouse, her posture growing tense. Outside, there was the sound of tires on gravel, followed by the sound of muffled and distant voices.

"We should get...out...of..." Indy's voice trailed off at the sound of a heavy thunk and the sound of something slowly rising through pitches, like a turbine starting up.

She turned and looked behind her. The hulking machine, once dormant, now had bright illuminated accents, each glowing a baleful scarlet. While she watched, the thing came to life and balanced itself on its intact leg, the chains above going slack. It made a noise like a ship's horn in Hell, and parts of it began to articulate, exposing what could only be weapons, including something with a barrel the size of an oil drum that glowed with burning crimson light. Which, naturally, it turned to point at the warehouse's only other occupants.

Indira swallowed, but there really wasn't a choice here. Super-science, exploding drones, and killer robots weren't what the authorities were equipped to handle. If she left, there would be normal people paying that price. Not that she actually knew how to fight something that looked like it belonged in a science fiction movie, but if there was one thing the superhero life had shown her it was that there really was a first time for everything. She dropped the drone she'd been holding, grabbed her phone out of the air, and flicked at it with her thumb. Li should know what was going on.

About to fight a giant death robot, she thumbed, Stay safe. Love you.

Indy tucked the phone into her jacket again, straightened her spine and squared her shoulders.

"Hey," she said, looking at the young man. A grin spread across her face, fierce and wide, "Feel like fighting bad guys?"

All Together Now (Superhero Team RP)

@alexfangtalon - I don't mean to be overbearing, but I'm thinking about logistics!

I'm thinking that after Jake's opening post, we can bother our GM for some information about what's going on at the warehouse to react to, and do a collaborative post together. Sound like a plan? :3