Polyphemus Member
They/ Them
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- Old Guild Username: Vulture
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Sheehan had loosened his tie and sat down at one of the tables with his Macbook. He had disregarded his chores for the day to try and make sense of it all, find out anything he could about this sudden and unwelcome new presence in his life.
His research wasn't getting him very far. Looking for a Gabriel Cohen from Israel was like looking for a guy named Dave Smith from the US. Narrowing his search parameters with the addition of "Branson", "winery", or "vintner" wasn't finding him anything before the previous year and opening of the winery. Dead end.
There was more out there on Manhunter MC, including a poorly spellchecked website. Founded in 1972 in Jonesboro, chapters in Arkansas, Tennessee, and southern Missouri. Low-rent punks and rowdies, associated with a few small-time rackets. Protection and hijacking by the look of it. So how did any of this involve them?
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, then stiffened as he heard the door open again. Sheehan briefly contemplated diving behind the bar, but scolded himself for being overdramatic. Sheehan stood and curiously walked over to the foyer to get a better look at his guest.
"Beth?" he said incredulously. She stood before him, bloodstained bandage on her arm and shirt with more than a few reddish stains on it. "Jesus, honey, what the hell happened to you?"
His research wasn't getting him very far. Looking for a Gabriel Cohen from Israel was like looking for a guy named Dave Smith from the US. Narrowing his search parameters with the addition of "Branson", "winery", or "vintner" wasn't finding him anything before the previous year and opening of the winery. Dead end.
There was more out there on Manhunter MC, including a poorly spellchecked website. Founded in 1972 in Jonesboro, chapters in Arkansas, Tennessee, and southern Missouri. Low-rent punks and rowdies, associated with a few small-time rackets. Protection and hijacking by the look of it. So how did any of this involve them?
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, then stiffened as he heard the door open again. Sheehan briefly contemplated diving behind the bar, but scolded himself for being overdramatic. Sheehan stood and curiously walked over to the foyer to get a better look at his guest.
"Beth?" he said incredulously. She stood before him, bloodstained bandage on her arm and shirt with more than a few reddish stains on it. "Jesus, honey, what the hell happened to you?"
Nah, it's all good, just wanted to throw out a slightly different idea for Greed, maybe get some creative juices flowing in some minds.
Maybe Greed could be something like Marvel's the Juggernaut? If she really wants something, nothing can stop her from getting to it. She can smash through brick walls, tear open safes, and so on. But it only works if its something in the way of getting something she truly wants. If she gets jumped while leaving with it, or when she's not actively after it, she's helpless.
Yeah, Envy and Greed are pretty similar in that regard. I think a more appropriate drawback for that power if it was based on greed would be that he can never ever get rid of the stuff he steals that way, or something.
Envy can summon objects to his hands/ vicinity, but the catch is that it must be a specific item, not generalized. Say he wants a .45 pistol, he can't just create one out of thin air, he has to specifically summon Jimmy Smith's .45 pistol. If it's just something he's seen in movies or heard about, it won't work for him- he has to know who owns it.
"You've got a ride home worked out?" Nate's father asked him that night in the car.
"Yeah, my buddy Patrick is coming to get me. He's out at a different party."
"Alright, good," the older Thurston said, nodding to himself. Nate could tell his dad was happy to have him out of the house. The man worried. Too much, maybe. Nate didn't have the heart to tell him this was more to sate his own curiosity than to be a social butterfly. Nate knew he would probably just get a cursory snack, look around the house, then make some lame excuse and call Pat (who was actually just playing WoW at home) to come pick him up. Because the other people just didn't interest him.
"This is the place? I remember this house from when I was a kid," the older man said as they pulled up in front of the house. "Thought they tore it down years ago."
"Thanks, Dad," Nate said, undoing his seatbelt.
"Hold on a sec, son," his father said, before going into what was obviously a prepared speech, probably worked out years ago. "Listen, your mother and I think you're at an age where you know what's wrong and what's right. That said, I want you to make responsible decisions." A slight smile came over his face. "But I also want you to have a good time. You only get to be a kid once. So, uh, don't let your mother know, right?" he said as he slipped a pint bottle of Seagram's Seven whiskey to his son. "This will be our secret," he said with a jocular wink. "Just keep it inside, and be careful about sharing with your friends. Don't get them in trouble with their parents."
"Thanks, Dad," Nate said, a little surprised as he climbed out of the car. "That's, uh, pretty cool of you." Maybe the old man was a little more on the ball than he thought.
"Have a good time," his father called as he pulled away, leaving Nate alone at the curb. He took a glance up at the looming old house, then shook his head and walked up the leaf-strewn walk to the door, the whiskey nestled safely in his hip pocket. It looked like he wasn't the first person there, that girl from class was already waiting at the door.
"Helen, right?" he asked as he came up behind her. "How you doing?"
"Yeah, my buddy Patrick is coming to get me. He's out at a different party."
"Alright, good," the older Thurston said, nodding to himself. Nate could tell his dad was happy to have him out of the house. The man worried. Too much, maybe. Nate didn't have the heart to tell him this was more to sate his own curiosity than to be a social butterfly. Nate knew he would probably just get a cursory snack, look around the house, then make some lame excuse and call Pat (who was actually just playing WoW at home) to come pick him up. Because the other people just didn't interest him.
"This is the place? I remember this house from when I was a kid," the older man said as they pulled up in front of the house. "Thought they tore it down years ago."
"Thanks, Dad," Nate said, undoing his seatbelt.
"Hold on a sec, son," his father said, before going into what was obviously a prepared speech, probably worked out years ago. "Listen, your mother and I think you're at an age where you know what's wrong and what's right. That said, I want you to make responsible decisions." A slight smile came over his face. "But I also want you to have a good time. You only get to be a kid once. So, uh, don't let your mother know, right?" he said as he slipped a pint bottle of Seagram's Seven whiskey to his son. "This will be our secret," he said with a jocular wink. "Just keep it inside, and be careful about sharing with your friends. Don't get them in trouble with their parents."
"Thanks, Dad," Nate said, a little surprised as he climbed out of the car. "That's, uh, pretty cool of you." Maybe the old man was a little more on the ball than he thought.
"Have a good time," his father called as he pulled away, leaving Nate alone at the curb. He took a glance up at the looming old house, then shook his head and walked up the leaf-strewn walk to the door, the whiskey nestled safely in his hip pocket. It looked like he wasn't the first person there, that girl from class was already waiting at the door.
"Helen, right?" he asked as he came up behind her. "How you doing?"
"If my man Dodger is in, then I so am," Clarion said, unable to keep the joy out of his voice. He spun in a slow circle on his skates, then gave daps to Dodger. It had taken forever to teach that to anyone, but the rush he got every time from it was worth it. It paled in comparison to the rush he was getting now. The world just got a hell of a lot more extreme for him. He was a real Sprayer now, that much couldn't be denied.
"This is the biggest thing I've ever been privileged to be part of," he said excitedly. "Really, dudes, this just totally radical." He skated over to the nearest person, not even caring who it was. "You know how to do daps? I'm gonna teach you. Hold out your fist. No, really, this will be so cool."
"This is the biggest thing I've ever been privileged to be part of," he said excitedly. "Really, dudes, this just totally radical." He skated over to the nearest person, not even caring who it was. "You know how to do daps? I'm gonna teach you. Hold out your fist. No, really, this will be so cool."
Well, the early 1960s was a great time for colorful mercenaries, so that plot sounds perfect. Maybe it's a remote stretch of African jungle instead of an island?
Sorry, not trying to steal your thunder or hijack anything, just got my imagination fired up.
Sorry, not trying to steal your thunder or hijack anything, just got my imagination fired up.
ZeusTheMoose said
And do you have suggestions/recommendations for artifacts the team can go after?
Sigurd's sword, Gram. The wreck of the Argo, which may still have the Golden Fleece aboard. The Sessho-seki. The iron needle that contains the soul of Koschei the Deathless. The Peaches of Immortality.
What time period are we setting this in, and what kind of foes can we expect to fight?
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