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Z A T A N N A



The thing's hands clutched at Zatanna as the latter toppled over, the shriek of adrenaline-infused terror caught in her throat as she fell back. Long fingers capped by rough, curving nails like daggers bit into Zatanna's arm leaving several thin trails of blood in their place. She hit the ground, hard, and could feel a welling at the base of her skull where it struck the pavement. Acting on pure, primal instinct she immediately rolled herself away. As she regained her footing, Zatanna took in the creature that just mere seconds before had appeared as a harmless, little old lady.

It had fully shrugged off the shawl by now. Where before it had stood barely five feet tall and hunched over, the creature now appeared several inches taller than Zatanna with a straightened back. Standing erect also served to reveal the garish network of scars across its torso. Long since healed over, they marked it as a creature accustomed to brutal fighting. A predator who has had to defend its territory from others. And with those intense amber eyes peering down at her, through her and into her very core, Zatanna very much felt like its prey.

"Give it!" It hissed once more. All traces of sweetness were gone from its voice now as the harsh cracking took over.

Zatanna shook her head, then winced as the movement caused her skull to throb.

"I don't know what you want!" She shouted back, her voice just as shaky as she felt.

The thing screeched at her, gnashing its teeth. "Lies," it called out, "I can feel it inside of you. You have it!"

Before she could protest a second time, the creature was moving. It awkwardly shuffled forward but it was quick. The janky motion combined with its speed briefly reminded Zatanna of an old-fashioned move scene where the frames had been cut out and pieced together making everything appear to jump forward in sudden bursts.

It was mere inches away from Zatanna before she even knew what had happened. The pale lips spread causing the craggy row of teeth glinting in the moonlight. But the thing didn't attack. Just as it had before, in its guise as the old woman, it waited there, expectantly regarding her.

Zatanna stood still, frozen, her mind a whirl of emotion and thoughts she couldn't get a handle on. She had read about such things in her father's notes. She had even believed the elder Zatara's written words to be true. The supernatural world and its inhabitants had, in a way, always been a part of her life ever since she had been introduced to her magic as a young child. But to be face-to-snarling-face with the honest reality of such a world had left the would-be-sorceress at a loss.

After a moment of silence, with Zatanna seemingly not responding adequately for the creature, it jabbed a finger forward and caught the young woman square in the chest. A single nicked and razor-edged nail sank a couple of millimeters into Zatanna's skin causing her to draw in a sharp breath.

"Take it out." The order was annunciated with a low growl.

"I... I don- I," Zatanna's words came hitched and stilted. "Please, I—"

Pushing the embedded fingernail slightly deeper, the growl grew heavier. "Take. It. Out."

'It.' The thing kept talking about 'it' and 'warmth.' But Zatanna didn't know what 'it' was and she certainly had no idea what warmth the creature was referring to. All she had on her person was the keycard to her hotel room and her phone. Not much else would have been able to fit in that outfit she had chosen for the night. And something told Zatanna that neither of those was what the thing wanted.

"Are you- is this about Eldon P-peck?" Zatanna was shivering now, though she no longer noticed the cold air. Her eyes kept flicking down to the thin nail piercing her chest and the swelling red that surrounded it. "D-do you work for him?"

The creature stopped abruptly. It's head slowly tilting as it locked eyes with the young woman. Then, without warning, it yanked its finger away from Zatanna and stepped back. A stream of dark liquid ran down and stained Zatanna's top, but she barely noticed. The creature was shaking, its shoulders jerking back and forth wildly. A soft wheeze escaped its pale lips before slowly transforming into a series of high-pitched, undulating whines.

Zatanna stood confused for several seconds, her eyes wide. It took a moment for her to comprehend what was happening.

The thing was laughing. Laughing. At her.

She tried to take a step back, urging her body to prepare to run. But her legs were unsteady beneath her. Zatanna didn't even trust her own feet to carry her away at that moment.

It took a moment for the creature to finish its cackling. As soon as it did, however, the thing whipped its head back towards Zatanna and spread its cracked lips widely.

"You think I work for the Soul Broker?"

It was phrased as a question, but the way the thing spat out the words made Zatanna feel as if it was the punchline to a joke.

"You attacked me," Zatanna said, her voice returning, "outside of his club. You- you're, I don't know what you are but he's a part of all this."

She opened her arms in a gesture towards the creature before continuing. "Of this world in the shadows. Of whatever it is my father was here for."

Another short, sharp wheeze spit out of its mouth. "The Soul Broker has no friends. I would rip his tongue from his greedy mouth if this place wasn't warded. I wouldn't be here if not for you. If not for it," the thing punctuated this sentiment with another jab towards Zatanna, but this one came several inches short of making contact.

"I could feel your warmth for miles. I've been following it to you for days." It stopped momentarily to inhale deeply as if savoring a delicious smell. "It calls to me and I hunger for it. And you will give it to me. Now! Before it is your tongue I remove."

Zatanna managed to finally force one shaky foot to take half-a-step backward. "But I don't know what it is you want, she insisted. "I don't understand."

The thing looked at her questioningly, disbelief etched on its grotesque face. "It. Inside you. The Books, filthy liar. Give me the Books!"

Zatanna was at a loss. Books? She didn't have any books. Unless it meant Giovanni's notes, his journals. But the creature didn't seem to know or care about her reason for being here, of her father's investigation and disappearance. And why did it continue to insist whatever the Books were were inside of her? None of it made sense to Zatanna.

"I don't have what you want," she breathed out as a twinge of pain shot through her chest and sent her skin dancing under a thousand needles. "This is all a big mistake. I—"

"Enough!" It snarled at her again and Zatanna could tell the creature was about to lunge forward once more. "If you won't give it to me, I'll take it!"

"No!" Zatanna shouted out, desperately scrambling back. Her legs felt waterlogged as she moved and it took no effort for the thing to catch her.

Those nails arced forward, digging into her chest once more. This time they went further than just the surface and Zatanna screamed as her body seared at the deep scratches. The creature's wicked grin stretched wider than ever before, shark-like teeth bared as it continually tore into Zatanna with pleasure.

Blood now ran in rivers down her chest, pooling at her stomach where the tight shirt kept it. Her entire body ached and burned as her voice cut out, screams dying in the bitter cold of the night.

Zatanna could feel her strength leaving her. Could just manage to curse herself for freezing up, for not even trying to fight back with magic. For being afraid. And as the burning sensation enveloped her entire torso and the creature cackled with glee, just as Zatanna could feel herself fading away, it happened.

A magnificent light burst forth from Zatanna's chest. It felt hot, hotter even than the open wounds that had been torn into her. The light enveloped the creature who shrieked and rasped. Barely two seconds later, the thing was launched up into the air and thrown across the empty lot. It landed with a dull thud, unmoving. And for a second Zatanna thought it might be dead as thin tendrils of smoke rose off of its body. But then it was up, moving in its wild, janky way. Instead of coming closer to Zatanna, though, it hissed and growled at her.

The light had gone now but that heat was still present. Zatanna no longer felt the Los Angeles chill. Her entire body felt alight.

Several dozen feet away, where the creature had landed and was now angrily snarling at her, Zatanna could make out patches of burned skin. Portions of its arm had seemingly melted away and several of the fingers that had just moments ago been digging into her chest were missing entirely.

It was hurt. And it was scared.

"If you don't want to lose more fingers," Zatanna called out with false bravado, "then I suggest you run away. And never come back."

The creature halted its pacing and stared directly at her. Lowering its hideous head it let loose the nastiest growl yet.

The bluff didn't work, Zatanna thought.

But no sooner had those words entered her mind than the creature turned its back with one final hiss and ran off into the night.

What felt like minutes passed while Zatanna stood there, all the confidence and energy she had mustered for that final bluff leaving her as the natural adrenaline rush, as well as that strange, powerful warmth, went away. And with that, the numbing cold returned. She didn't dare move, afraid any second the thing would come back to tear out and consume her heart.

A sudden vibration followed by a soft chiming caused Zatanna to leap in place. Her phone, she realized, as she fumbled into her back pocket. A single line of text appeared on the screen that filled Zatanna with relief:

Your Uber has arrived at your selected location.
@Master Bruce I'm glad to see these changes being accepted. I don't expect to see an exact replica of what I suggested, but either way I'm looking forward to what does come. It'll be a revitalization, I think, for how these games go. Which can only be beneficial.
I just went through a lot of personal/family stuff and I'm stressed the fuck out. So that post I was planning for today will be postponed until the weekend, probably. But still intending to 'catch up' on my posting schedule.
Alright, so. I think the easiest way to solve lower activity rates is to inspire more interaction opportunities. And the most effective way to do that, without arbitrarily forcing people to start writing collaborative posts together, is to incorporate linear story elements into the RP.

My suggestion, as I've laid out in the Discord, is to utilize mini-events or "sidequests." As has been the status quo over the last several years, these games now tend to have end-of-season GM events that are wide-spanning crossovers able to pull in every player and character at once. As was witnessed in the previous two games, these are very successful and positively viewed. And they tend to bring together players who may not have ever written together in that particular RP. I say we take that concept and miniaturize it down.

A sidequest would be relatively simple: one of the GMs puts up an IC post detailing some sort of natural crisis or criminal act in a section of the world some of our characters would be close by to. For instance, half-a-dozen high-skilled individuals breaking into a California facility where weapons-grade plutonium is held. That GM would then post in the OOC announcing that this is a mini-event and that any player who can reasonably get their character there to react to this crime-in-progress may choose to do so, and would list a small checklist of what would likely need to be achieved in order to resolve this sidequest. For example: prevent the theft of plutonium, with a bonus objective of apprehending those responsible. The players that choose to respond can then resolve this sidequest as they see fit without further GM action. If multiple players respond, they now have an easy opportunity for their characters to interact. If only one player responds, that's fine, too, as the sidequest still serves to make the world we're writing in feel more lived-in.

If no one responds, though, after say a week or two, then the GM will then write a second, closing post in the IC detailing the success of the criminal's plans. No one resolving the mini-event would mean "consequences" in that civilian life could be lost, or the criminals could now be even more dangerous the next time. In the same example as above, the criminals now have weapons-grade plutonium and could return in several weeks now holding the city of Los Angeles hostage by the threat of a dirty bomb - thus upping the stakes for a future sidequest. These are the sorts of "consequences" that make the world feel lived-in and real - it's not just what our characters do that build the world, but also what they don't do - while at the same time not feeling like a punishment for choosing to ignore a particular sidequest.

This method, I think, should spur a lot of interaction with minimal effort - GMs would only need to write a single, relatively brief IC post for each sidequest, or two if it is not resolved. It would also help expand upon the world we write in, filling out the backdrop events and giving more opportunity to include these sorts of stories that often don't make sense in our solo arcs. And, further down the road when it makes sense for a year one story, these sidequests can be used to introduce minor comic book villains that may not be utilized otherwise. And, they can even be used to tie-in to the overall season-ending event, whether directly or indirectly, so we can truly feel like said major event has been built up to. There's a lot that can be done with this method that doesn't require any drastic change.

As someone who went into this RP with the intent to fully interact with others this time, but can't always rationalize teaming up with certain characters under normal circumstances, these sidequests could be very beneficial.

Introducing a new sidequest every two weeks or so could be a great way to improve activity, inspire inter-player interaction, and create new, interesting story beats that feel even more like the comic books we all love and enjoy.
Z A T A N N A



Getting into Club Bewitched proved to be a simple task. Zatanna's new wardrobe saw to that.

She had arrived in Los Angeles with only the barest of necessities and only a week's worth of clothing. Most of which were basic, meant for comfort, and far from fashionable. A couple of hours of shopping and a new balance on her credit card gave her a more suitable outfit for tonight's surveillance. The black, midriff-baring, off-the-shoulder top and short shorts with fishnet stockings were about as different from Zatanna's usual style as one could get. The thickly laid on makeup was over the top for her tastes, as well. But, she knew it would serve its purpose. Tonight, she would look just like any other young, twenty-something girl flashing just enough skin to meet the club's quota and be granted entrance by the bouncers.

Locating her target, much to her surprise, proved to be even simpler. Zatanna hadn't expected to get eyes on Eldon Peck on her first foray out. She had been dreading the thought of having to go clubbing night after night, just hoping to get lucky in finding him sooner than later. But, less than an hour after entering Club Bewitched, there he was.

Zatanna sipped on her cocktail as she watched Peck from a distance. Her seat in the club's lounge area afforded her direct line of sight on the man who was currently showering several barely-legal looking girls with attention and alcohol. For a man pushing fifty, the club owner easily could pass for being in his mid-thirties. He was handsome, she supposed, and looked a little like Christian Bale's doppelganger. Which was fitting considering he gave off a very "American Psycho" vibe.

It was his smile. After nearly an hour of watching Peck interact with those around him, she couldn't help but notice how off the man looked when he smiled. Like a piece of plastic being stretched across his face in a well-rehearsed facsimile of a one without any of the emotion behind it.

She continued watching him for the next several hours, making sure to move over to the dance floor every so often to keep up appearances. Aside from a brief restroom visit, Peck kept to his VIP area where he could receive constant adoration from young women desperate to impress the wealthy club owner. By the time it was nearing two o'clock in the morning, Zatanna decided to call it a night. She figured he wasn't likely to do anything unusual or noteworthy at this point and, if she were being honest with herself, she couldn't tolerate another minute of watching the man grope another young girl's backside.

The rear parking lot for the club was empty at that time of night. New party-goers weren't likely to arrive this late and those were had stayed for this long were probably in it for the long haul. Zatanna shifted uncomfortably as she waited for her Uber, the cold Los Angeles night caused her skin to break out in goosebumps. Pacing back and forth, Zatanna cursed her ridiculous outfit for the hundredth time since leaving her hotel room. The fishnet stockings did absolutely nothing to protect her from the elements.

"Ugh," she groaned in frustration as she checked the time on her phone once again. Another ten minutes until her ride was to arrive.

"This is stupid, Zee," she reasoned with herself. "Just do it. No one's watching."

Tucking her dark hair back behind an ear and casting a nervous glance around the empty lot, Zatanna confirmed her own words.

She continued murmuring out loud, "okay, okay. I'm doing it..."

Clapping her hands together, Zatanna began rubbing her palms back and forth. The slight heat from the movement's friction slowly began to expand and envelop both hands entirely before radiating up her arms. She exhaled, focusing her breathing, and concentrated on that heat wiling it to increase. She visualized the budding warmth being pulled away from her clasped hands and collecting into a tiny sphere before her. Within seconds it did just that. A mixture of red and orange energy danced down her fingers and began to gather at the tips. It grew from a tiny bead to a golfball-sized roiling flame that flickered in the air.

Just as she was about to will the fire to move down towards her legs and provide some much-desired relief from the biting chill, a soft voice called out to her from behind.

"Excuse me..."

The flame vanished in a brief spark of light as Zatanna startled.

Whirling around in a mixture of surprise and guilt, Zatanna threw her hands behind her back as if she were a schoolgirl caught sneaking a cigarette between classes.

She had half-expected the voice to belong to a guy from the club, liquid courage perhaps inspiring him to try his luck with her. But, instead, she saw a little old lady bundled up in a worn-down grey shawl. Her hands gripping tightly to the edges of the cloth and pulling it closer to her tiny body. It was difficult to tell with her face obscured in the darkness of the night, but Zatanna imagined the woman to be at least in her seventies.

"Uh, yes? Can I help you?" Zatanna wondered if the lady might be lost or confused. Or even homeless, she realized, as a closer look revealed the ratty shawl's grey coloring was probably from being unwashed.

The elderly woman, barely five feet tall and hunched over, slowly spun from side to side as if just now realizing her surroundings.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, dearie." Her voice was high and cracked, giving Zatanna the impression she was nursing a parched throat or had been a long-time smoker.

When the woman didn't add anything further, only looking forward expectantly, Zatanna encouraged her to say more. "Are you okay, ma'am? It's awfully cold out tonight. And late. Are you lost? Do you need me to call someone for you?"

"... So warm." The words were mumbled and whatever she had said beforehand were lost to the wind.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't quite make out—"

The lady stumbled forward, throwing out her arms to clutch onto Zatanna for support. Her fingers curled into the cloth of the younger woman's shirt who gasped and reached out to catch this poor stranger.

"You're so warm..." She repeated, this time loud enough for Zatanna to hear.

Zatanna frowned slightly and considered her minimalist outfit. It wasn't exactly what she would consider warm attire, she was still shivering from the chilly night herself. But if this woman was indeed homeless and had been out in this weather all night, Zatanna could at least sympathize.

"Oh, God," Zatanna said. "Let me call you some help."

She tried reaching back for her phone but the old woman suddenly clutched at Zatanna's arms.

"I can feel it. Inside of you. So warm."

This time the lady's voice sounded harsher but more energetic. Her hands against Zatanna's bare skin felt rough and clasped tightly onto the latter's arms with surprising strength. The shawl, no longer being held against her body, fell back, and at the same time, the woman tossed her head upwards.

Dull yellow eyes stared at and almost through Zatanna. Thin, pale lips stretched apart to reveal a jagged row of razored teeth.

It rasped out, "I want it. Give it to me, now!"
It wouldn't be a DC game without a reboot.
<Snipped quote by Retired>

I fail to see how constantly rooting for a player to miss their posting deadline is conducive to a healthy roleplay.


Well, aside from not being serious since I already have a character of my own, the last time I made the joke you posted within two days. Instead of me rooting against you, I'm rooting for you to prove me wrong again.
I think second characters are probably a no-go considering how many players are on the "expired" list every week with only one.
Three more days, Andy. Three more days.
Sneaking in a post hours before the deadline. Just the way I like it.
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