Sigil

Justice League: Futures End

From a distance, the flying figure was merely a dark silhouette with a white cape buffeting dramatically in the breeze. As he drew closer, certain details became apparent: The newcomer looked, aside from the flying, like a normal, well-formed human youth. Dark of hair and strong of feature, he was well-groomed with a air of authority about him. His facial features, well... were familiar. Frightening even, in their familiarity.

He could tell that he was being observed; that was the point. Low altitude, slower speed on the approach. Let himself be seen, and see them. The nonverbal responses from the military present were a clustering of shock, reservation, and suspicion. The strange newcomer's approach slowed further as he neared the group of Earth's Heroes. He settled lightly upon the ground a few paces from the two Justice League founders, Batman and Wonder Woman, and walked the remaining four steps required to enter range for polite conversation.

Up close and personal, the reason for the odd looks was obvious: This person was a dead ringer for the Last Son of Krypton, the inestimable paragon of righteousness, Superman. Details were off, of course. He had green eyes, bright and intelligent, and a slightly more slender grace about himself, hinting at dexterity training necessary to a person that did not rely on nigh invulnerability.

He spoke with a solid, confident voice, initiating conversation stiffly. "Thank you for receiving me, Sir, Lady, though I recall requesting Diplomatic Courtesy on behalf of an Envoy of Almeracian Royalty. As this request was summarily ignored, I can only assume that you have something of greater importance taking priority?"

His eyes darted about, taking in details around him. "Please forgive my impatience. I had a long journey here. I am Maxus-El, First Prince of Almerac, of the Imperial Bloodline."

He pressed a small white strip of material to the inside of his cheek and handed it over to the two Founders. "Run this through your biometrics, such as it is. It will confirm my identity and relation to two members of your League. It was Mother's wish that I enter the ranks of the Justice League. She was insistent that it was a worthwhile endeavor, and that as a Legacy I would be given direct consideration."

"In the meantime, what is the situation? I am noting indications elevated stress, unless you Terrans always look like this."

Titans of Gotham [Spots Available!]

The battle was brutal, taxing both physically and mentally, even for an enhanced scrapper like El Sasquatcho. The burly Luchador and his stalwart comrades-in-arms had their work cut out for them. A mind-warped former Titan with enough raw physical power remove the ceiling from a fortified safehouse was in their midst, and with all the powers of the assembled Titans at their disposal, the team's hairy protagonist went after her with an improvised bludgeon of re-bar and concrete.

The DJ remixed music of the 1980's kept thumping through the speakers, miraculous by noting that, while everything around them was trashed (lamentably even the microwave, by El Sasquatcho's actions), the sound system was in perfect working order. Despite the pounding bass of RELAX sounding among them, El Sasquatcho heard a booming voice overhead, belonging to a descending, red haired blur with a curious looking eighty pound bitchhammer, bellowing, "CALCIUM!"

El Sasquatcho paused mid-swing and tilted his head upward, an incredulous look somehow noticeable through his armored mask as he listened to what he misunderstood to be the worst battlecry ever. "Calcium? For serious?"

He looked back to his opponent, shrugged, and continued his assault.

Justice League: Futures End

Still here. Was hoping for more reaction to the presence of a flying guy before he introduced himself (let me know who he's talking to), but I can put something in tonight if it's better for flow.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

@Luminosity

Don't wait too long. Keystone's the kind of guy that won't let his new companion be late for the party. <insert evil laugh here>

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Keystone

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern, interior and exterior

Interacting With: Cremwise, Fellow Merchant Guard Hires

The barest hint of cool, grey dawn crested the horizon, filtering in through the trees dotting the hamlet of Salarn. Keystone was already outside the Inn, just a few meters away in a small, unused area whose main feature was a thick oak, its remaining leaves darkened from the season. He had removed his boots and shirt both, the latter folded neatly and placed atop the former. The scars from a hundred (likely more) close-in scuffles of mortal urgency criss-crossed atop his almost grotesquely conditioned physique.

That, combined with his abyssal social skills was the likely reason he never married.

Keystone's breath fogged and quickly dissipated as he moved, finishing up a series of exercises designed to hone his unarmed combat techniques and provide resistance of motion - the end result being a quite effective maintenance workout. He flowed from stance to stance, form to form, with effortless practice and a grace that seemed the antithesis to his usual rough demeanor. He was a Pugilist, certainly, but one with uncommon complexity of training from obviously multiple sources. Those who had only witnessed the actions of the brutish man from the previous night were shocked somewhat to see that Keystone, the occidental brawler with the table manners of an orc-raised goat, was an artist in his chosen profession.

As his forms drew to a close, Keystone turned to face the Crossed Swords exhaling slowly and deliberately in an effort to slow his breathing and heartbeat. He pressed his knuckles together in front of himself and bowed his head slowly, signaling the end of his morning constitutionals.

Keystone pulled on his boots, retrieved his dark, woolen shirt, and jogged back into the Inn.

"Mornin' all." he said (almost) cheerfully, pulling his shirt on over his head. Without further greeting, he jogged upstairs.

He returned in about two minutes, just the time it took to buckle on his long coat of reinforced hide armor, grab his pack, and sling a bandoleer of kunai daggers about his torso. A quick scan for anything he might have missed drew his attention to the ceramic bottle from last night. Having barely been touched, it was carefully stoppered and placed in his belongings. No sense wasting good booze that can be utilized later.

He plunked the large pack heavily upon a nearby table, and called to Cremwise. "Ey, Cremmy!"

After the older merchant's attention was acquired, he strode purposefully toward the man and continued. "Call me Keystone. Miss Persephone went and convinced me to take your offer. Got nothing on my "to-do list", as it were. Long as I've already accepted it, um... what's your offer?"

Just then, his senses picked up on the possibility of breakfast in his near future. Tea, ham and eggs sounded positively heavenly.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

I agree. Yesterday lasted two months.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

So, I'll come out and ask it: Who's going to prank the Cleric all by his lonesome in the common room?

Myself, I'm coming very close to having Keystone get in bed with him in the early morning, face really close to his, waiting for him to wake up. As soon as his eyes open, have him greet the day with a face full of Keystone grinning and whispering, "Ello, Betty..."

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Keystone

Location: Yellow Rose Temple, Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: Persephone, Militia, Anyone still awake at the Crossed Swords

The sizable pugilist stepped into the brisk air outside of the Yellow Rose Temple, bowing his head respectfully until the door swung closed behind them. He looked to his companion, Persephone, and offered her his arm. A bit stuffy a gesture, out here on the borderlands. Presumptuous, one might say, were they unfamiliar with Keystone's more protective nature. He eyeballed the militiamen present just outside of the Temple until they parted before him, allowing unrestricted egress from the area.

"C'mon then, Miss Sephy," he began, speaking in a manner both formal and casual, as a potential suitor or servant might, "Let's get back to the Inn. I'll buy us an ale and we can talk about 'rangements, ey?"

Keystone's breath fogged slightly in the evening's steadily dropping temperature. His heavy bootfalls crunched into the gravel and tight packed, dry leaves of the season with the solid regularity of a man unconcerned with trivialities like stealth. As the large man walked, his sensed tried to attune to his surroundings, mindful of the fact that the area was technically at war. Still, his thoughts skipped to the near future; tomorrow, and what oddness may come of it.

If the more memorable guests of the Crossed Swords were any indication, this little side venture as a merchant guard would see him keeping to himself, mostly, until it was time to fight. It was doubtful that he would be put in any position of authority within their team; most people in this area had never heard of J. Keystone, Pugilist, despite his colorful and often dramatic history. It was very possible that he could skirt by as "the Big Guy That Hits Stuff", collect his pay, and move on to the next learning experience.

Still, guarding a merchant caravan was a tricky thing: It formed a staple of income for many fighter-types. Honest enough work if you can get it, sometimes even profitable, depending upon the merchant and the goods being hauled. Often enough, it was one of those mundane undertakings that suddenly and inexorably drew you into something bigger, with more intrigue. A whirlpool, pulling you into an ever-tightening circle of a totally unforeseen series of events, threatening to capsize and slam your carcass into the rocks.

After the year he'd had so far, the chances that would happen again were remote. Astronomical, really.

Within the Inn, things seemed quiet. Only a couple of patrons remained in the common room, despite the evening not being that far along. Perhaps the tense nature of the border skirmish had everyone calling the frivolity to a close early. Perhaps it was the Four-Alarm Arseplosion from before that led to a mass migration elsewhere. Or both. Of the few that remained, there was a mixed-blood orc curled up in front of the low, crackling fire with a familiar wolf, a lady Elf he didn't remember seeing from before looking quite out of place in these surroundings, and the pretty-seeming man with the smile he didn't quite trust.

Keystone turned his head slightly toward Persephone, and in a quiet voice (for him) intoned, "Rain check on that ale, then. Looks as they're shutting down." He thought for a moment, and said aloud, "I'll be taking a nightcap in my room, 'fore I turn in. Knock if'n you need me for anything."

He glanced to the few remaining in the common room and moved to the stairs, quietly making his way to his private rooms. A sip of something to cap off the evening, and very possibly the last real sleep he'd get for quite a while.

Titans of Gotham [Spots Available!]

El Sasquatcho overshot his slide, taking him underneath the hovering Amazon and out of direct range of the soon-to-be ensuing melee, skidding heavily into a pile of rubble that was once a ceiling. While still prone, the burly Luchador covered his ears and went into a fetal position until the sonic grenades cleared the rest of the riffraff out.

He uncovered his eyes and looked over at Zero, on the ground and in process of bleeding out. Parasite was also down, very possibly never to recover. A series of red, furry splotches adorned the walls at odd intervals, casualties of centrifugal force from Rat Boy's cadre of rodent reinforcements. More dead and dying. He was done with it. While he whispered his supplications to Dama Muerte, he knew that she did not do her best work in extremes. El Sasquatcho honored the brave and noble fallen; he did not rush to create more of them.

Among the rubble, the indomitable Luchador's hand settled upon a thick section of re-bar, one end heavy with hardened concrete. Using it for support, he pushed himself to a standing position and called to his brain-scrambled friend.

"It's time to stop, chica. You're hurting people who care about you."

He hefted his improvised weapon over his shoulder in a powerful, two-handed grip. It was a giant, irregular mace; an anvil on a metal pole. Not for finesse, certainly, and not the kind of thing a person with lesser strength could use effectively. Regardless, El Sasquatcho felt confident that he could open up the full range of his power on her without worrying about her mortality. At the same time, if the Amazon was going to specifically target one of them to start, he'd rather it be himself. He stood the best chance of surviving her martial attentions, but not for long.

He just had to buy time for the others to come up with something useful.

"If we get through this, hermanita, the wings are on El Sasquatcho, ok?"

His voice scrambler deepened and amplified a roar as he closed the distance with an aggressive charge, remixed dance music from the 1980's still pulsing in the background.

"¡Revolución!"

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

He would know. Lob good. Lob sit. Lob know stuff. Lob eviscerate meddling pointy-hats that key off his Lobby Sense (tm) with bad juju.