Recent Statuses

1 yr ago
Current Vanjie......Vaaaanjie. VAAAAANNNJIE!
3 yrs ago
Silly me silly me, for tuttling like we could make something beautifully. And the hands of my man, dusted in bedlam and false promises --while I delved in with love abundances
4 yrs ago
Ooops....where did the time go and it's the Holidays?
4 yrs ago
Surprise bitches, betcha thought you'd seen the last of me


I think I'll come back to this relatively soon...but then again, knowing me, I probably won't.

I guess the main point of this is to say: damn, I was gone for over a year from this place. I spent a good bit of inconsistent time on Iwaku, but I kinda missed my roots and the place I originally called home.

Most Recent Posts

There's all this anger and shadiness going around. Why not let your resident sky god brighten up the place with a brand new issue.


Issue 1.03 – Building Churches in the Wild Pt. 3 -My Name is My Name

New York, 10 Minutes Before the "Crisis"


A burst of light from an alleyway in the Upper East Side signaled Baal’s appearance. He righted himself, preparing to dust himself off until he remembered the state of his clothes. “Ugh. Mortals.” Baal took a deep breath and inhaled the metallic air like cigarette smoke.

The sequence of car alarms blaring at his arrival let Baal know he needed to work on his landing impact. A clatter of glass from an opening window drew his attention.

“Fucking gods and their.. Oi! You haveta knockout my power every time you visit? I mean, right in the middle of AbFab?”

Baal shrugged. Was he supposed to apologize for appearing? The sky god at least had the decency to place himself in a more insulated area when he arrived via lightning. But, he noted the radius of charred cement around him.

Jeroen Thornedike, "The Doctor", sighed. “Damn divine wanker is what you are.” He disappeared from the winding before popping his head out again. “You coming up, or what?”

“You know, I typically don’t push back appointments. Even a few moments. However, I made an exception with you because…”

“I’m a god. I know.”

Jeroen snorted. The involuntary reaction sent drops of tea flying, spreading hints of lavender throughout the room. “Yeah. Right. That’s the reason.”

Baal stared at The Doctor. Did this mortal really want to try his patience?

“Oh come off it already. You’re not the first god I’ve met, real or proclaimed, and you certainly won’t be the final one. You’ve seen one godly ego, you’ve smelled them all. ‘s boring. No, I made the exception because well, you’re so divinely broken.
It took a moment before, through set teeth, Baal asked “Don’t you have a teapot to tend, doctor?” Wrinkling his nose at the burning smell now hanging in the air.

Jeroen tilted his cup back, draining the remaining contents. “No,” he let the clatter of porcelain on plate punctuate the air. “But you have a new couch to buy me, god.”

Baal started, jerking his hand up. The ox-blood red of his suit, dust-laden as it had become, was now Rorschach-ed with a splatter of melted leather. With a growl, Baal stood and ripped the arm of his suit off. The dim light of the Doctor’s apartment flickered as Baal surged electricity through the sleeve. The ashes listed to the hardwood floor before he spoke again. “That was unintentional.” He didn’t have wherewithal for two apologies.

“Hmm,” The Doctor responded as he stood. He made his way over to a shelf of books. “This routes rather nicely to my initial point: you’re broken. I mean if your world’s Baal Hammon is anything like the lore of ours, you were never one for good temperament to begin with but, your emotions are even more out of balance. Your music, while still profound, centers on pain and rage. Your patience, even more quick to deflate since you first came to me 2 months ago. You’re grieving, Baal. God or not. What’s interesting is, besides not realizing that you are, you don’t know what you’re grieving over: the death of Inanna, the potential death of your world, your death—because isn’t this just a new type of life? Your old one left behind. And in this new world, you can’t grieve because no one knows who you are. You need your identity but here, you don’t know where to start looking for it, because it never existed in this world in the first place. But! Enough on that, because you don’t have much time.”

Baal massaged his temples. “The buzzing here is deafening. So much energy I can feel. Was never this bad in my world’s New York. I don’t want to stay here longer, but I don’t have any other plans for the evening.”

“Heh, like that matters. Carrying on. You asked for answers. Well, you tried to demand answers initially. But all that aside, in terms of my theories about you getting home—I was completely wrong.”

Baal’s fists met the coffee table. The scorched ovals contrasted against the sandy finish of the table. He took a breath before looking up, blinking back sparks. “Don’t fuck with me, seer. I’ve had a day. And this…buzzing. The current of this city. So much energy I can feel, pricking my mind. My New York was never this bad.”

“Ah yes,” Jeroen commented, “that. Don’t worry, if you and the others aren’t completely daft, you’ll take care of ‘em. Or you won’t. New York’ll be destroyed. Machine domination, all that loveliness.” The Doctor placed a finger on the coffee table while he stared into the distance. “For the new table, make sure it’s mahogany. I rather like mahogany.”

Baal stood, creaking the hardwood of the loft. His hands splayed and blue traces of electricity spiraled down each finger. Thornedike waved him off, turning his attention to his glass front armoire. He rifled through the collection or relics. “See? This is why you should listen before you act. Hear me once more, sky god: I was wrong about my theories concerning you getting home.” The Doctor reached further in, balancing on his toes. “Care to sift through your rage enough to tell me what I said the first time you barged in here?”

“That I wasn’t able to go home. There was no way to go back.”

“Ah-ha! Exactly. But, I was wrong. After consulting with the other Doctors, it’s clear that your destiny—as of now—does not terminate in this realm. Now, as for when and how you get back. That, I have no idea of. I have other theories, but not information.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Wonderful,” the not-mortal-mortal pulled his head out, trailing his hand, “I thought you’d never ask.”

In praise of the Doctor, Baal didn’t expect the man to move as fast as he did. In an instant, he’d taken Baal’s hand with a grin. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“Do what?”

There was a glint of light and a knife running down Baal’s palm before the god could react.

“Now then, best not to ask what I’m going to do with this. You won’t like the answer.” The Doctor pulled back his jacket, slipping the glowing relic into the darkness of one of his pockets. He checked his watch. “Besides, you don’t have time for the detailed explanation.”

“Blood—the fuck do you keep saying that for?”

There was a crash outside. The sound of metal falling over metal in a cascade. Screams followed, before the sound of sirens pierced the chaos like a dollop of whip cream.

“Right then. Like I said. We’ve both got things to do, people to see and egos to check.” Jeroen crossed to his window, opening the French bays. “Off you go! Don’t worry, place is magically insulated.”

Baal nodded, his eyes dancing with sparks. Pops of light on his lips. He charged the window, focusing on the night sky, the cityscape. The buzzing. He dove, smelling the surge of ozone, hearing the snap of air rapidly collapsing. The brightness of pure energy. And he was gone.
Hi all. I know I've been MIA with only a couple posts under my belt. But just wanted to say I'm still

It's okay, guys. I have the silver lining: two fewer reviews I have to do now.

Seriously, though, as much this sucks, and as awkward as it may be, I hope we as the player base can continue to move forward. This has thus far been one of, if not the, most successful of the Guild comic games. Many of us are on track to complete our arcs and progress into a new season that can bring just as much success.

For those of you concerned or doubtful, the game can survive. Our stories can thrive. It's up to us, as players, to make sure it does.

Got that presidential style motivating speech on lock, dontcha, Retired?
One person is always right in a marriage, the other is the husband.

But, what happens when they're both women?

Well, it looks like Bounce and I posted at the same time. So:

Merry Monday and get a twofer y'all!

Hot off the shelves, it's Old Man Grayson & Robin!

And mucking it from the swamps of Florida to the Empire state, it's Baal!

Issue 1.02 – Building Churches in the Wild Pt. 2 - Human Being in the Mind

The Everglades, Florida:

The shriek of metal ripping sounded through the chop shop.

Gerald Duggar resisted the budding urge to shiver from the bead of sweat caressing the curve of his nose. It plinked onto his exposed thigh, the sound deafening to him in this din of silence. His leg still ached from almost being broken. Light filtered down on him, coming from the circular pane of slightly translucent grime that had once been a window. The stale air inside the chop shop mixed with dust particles, along with the smell of oil and ozone.

It had been about a minute sense that crack of thunder outside. Since the light had pulsed under the flaked and rusted bottom of the metal door. Why was it so goddamn quiet? Gerald shook his head. Kept his eyes trained on the shed door. Strained those eyes to ignore the dust. “Don’t blink, just breathe.”

The sliding door gave one last screech of metal admitting defeat, before it was taken from its track and tossed aside.

“Hold the steel steady. Look a bull square between the eyes,” his father would say. “Look ‘em dead
center, and fire true.”
That’s all it took.

But, Gerald couldn’t fully look at the eye’s of the man in the doorway. Knew he would have preferred a bull. Mud splatter covered his red suit like it was a painter’s smock, and yet there was a lack of concern for it.[BI] No grit in this guy’s dark jaw nor clench in his fist. The way Gerald saw the guy[?], faint sparks fritzing across his body—the set of his eyes, leveled and dull—he appeared irritated.
The way the man considered the chop shop, noting the grayed and splitting support beams, patchwork of metal panels, the work of his Pa over years? The slight upturn of his lip? The dismissal of all Gerald knew? It was enough to send Gerald’s hand down the pump of his rifle, breaking the silence. Punctuating it with the clatter of a copper shell on concrete.

Baal was brought back to the present by the clang. His eyes rested on the boy with yet another firearm was leveled at him. This pattern was becoming too familiar. The insolence. Then the boy spoke.

“You.” The word, made an accusation. A whisper resonating into a growl.

Baal tasted real rage, none of the pomp from the mortals outside. Finally, something genuine. Small bolts leapt from his eyes. He took a slow step forward. There was only the grinding sway of rusted chains for a moment.

The humidity and sweat slicked Gerald’s grip, but he tried to ignore it. Tried to mask the shudder in his breathing. Focused on those dark eyes cracked with blue sparks. Uppity smile and that smell of burnt skin. “You. You killed ‘em, didntja?”

Baal flicked his wrist, checking his watch. A gold flash glinted that made the mortal blink. Baal was officially late. “Check for yourself.”

The sharp inhale and contraction of his eyes betrayed Gerald, but he took a quick step toward Baal, his voice raising. “Fucker, I’ll kill you right here n’ now.”

The scratched black of the rifle’s metal was leveled at Baal’s chest. He stared at Gerald.

“Fuckin’ answer me!”

Baal stepped into the muzzle. It pressed against his suit. He recognized this one as the mortal whose leg he considered breaking before the other 8 mortals surrounded him. Then that false king. This boy had heard those sounds outside. He could taste the air. Yet here he was, breath steadying. A square in his shoulders. Muscles taut and the muzzle of his rifle lifted up. Baal knew madness. Had woven it into mortals for years. But this wasn’t it. Back on his Earth, he hadn’t interacted with the mortals in this way for some time. Had nearly forgotten this side of mortals. Countless incarnations since he’d seen it. This mortal was ready to die. He had a warrior’s resolve.
Baal shrugged. “You probably fancy this your last stand. You, the narrator of your story—strengthened by indignation, rage and revenge. Avenging your Pa, or whatever the term is. Your own personal war. But you kid yourself, Backwoods.” Baal grabbed the muzzle and directed it toward his forehead. The boy stumbled back, slipping on a pool of oil. “I started war eons before you drew your first of many unnoticed breaths.”

Baal gestured around him. He let sparks jolt from his eyes and fingertips. “You smell that all around? How even a deep inhale buzzes your nose? That’s me. That’s Power. Consider it the new fragrance.”

Baal crossed over to the mortal, gripping the sweat-stained collar of his shirt. The sparks almost danced in his eyes now. “Your life—based on what you do here, or anywhere really, won’t matter.” The sparks died down and his tone leveled. “The only difference is how much of it you see.”

He dropped the boy. “You won’t kill me. But you can work for me.” Baal finally noticed his car and made his way toward it.
Gerald slumped to the ground. The puddle of oil now soaked into his dirt crusted jeans. “Work for you? You come in here, kill the folks I love, an’ you want me to work for you? You ain’t never loved someone. Have you!?”

Baal paused as he was opening his door. His muscles tensed again, tightened with memories of pleasure he would never experience again. “In that simplistic way you love? No.” He let his shoulders relax once more. “And they ‘ain’t’ dead outside. Scraped it, yes. But not dead. Even though, you lot stole my car and tried to prevent me from getting it back. 3 of them will never walk again, and your father won’t speak anymore. I made sure of it.”

Baal opened the car door. “Fire the gun. Or don’t. My patience is gone and your father is the one who took it. He had 8 armed men under his belt. You are barely one.” Baal looked back at him, “But I can make you more than one.”
He slid into the driver’s seat and the sharp tone of leather filled his nostrils. Even in this new Earth, certain comforts could bring him back. He found his phone glinting in the center console. It was long dead, but that wasn’t a problem for Baal. Tapping a spark onto the screen with his finger, it was a few minutes before the screen lit up, the phone booting up. After a moment, his fingers set to work dialing a number and he placed the phone to his ear. Before he stepped out of the car, he grabbed something from the glovebox. He gestured to Gerald to come over as a voice picked up.

“Yeah. It’s me. Yes, apologies. A…situation came up that kept me from my phone. Do you still have time?...I didn’t ask if you had other clients. Do you still have time? Right then, be there in 5.”

He turned to Gerald again. “Backwoods. Got a job you can do.” The keys shown in the light as Baal tossed them to Gerald. “Get this up to New York. Onboard nav’ll have the addy. You’ve got until tomorrow. 15 sound good?”

Gerald stared at Baal, stuttering almost-words before finally: “You tryna get me to chauffeur you up the east coast for 1500? Fucker who do you think—”

“You’ve got one more pass, with this ‘fucker’ nonsense,” Baal told him, cracking his fist. He added a sizzle of electricity for emphasis. “And 15 thousand, Backwoods. The hell do you think I am?”

Baal walked outside of the shed to the clearing, Backwoods (Gerald) in tow. The men were still unconscious and the cicadas were buzzing again. “Just run the car for me. There’s 400 in the console, it’ll get you there. I might even have a follow up job for you if you do this right. You do it wrong, I’ll show you what happens when you piss me off.” He now stood in the center of the clearing, hands outstretched, considering the sunset sky.

“But waita—hold on! How you getting up to N.Y.?”

Baal smiled at his new assistant, letting sparks fill his eyes and cast a glow. The power jumped from his veins and began drying out the air. “As I said,” Baal started, above the growing hum in the air. “I’ll show you why you don’t want to piss me off.”

There was a slash of light cutting through the dusk of the sky. It struck Baal, followed by Boom! and the sky god was gone.
  • @Stein with Baal
    • Given how little I know about the source material, I wasn't particularly certain of Baal in the initial character proposal. As soon as I read the sample post, I was hooked and I am so excited to see how Baal fits into the universe as a whole. Electrifying start to such an interesting character.

Eeey! Someone's got some love for the sky god :D I high key didn't think many people were reading Baal just yet because he is more obscure. Really, thank you, Web! You've galvanized me to step it up with Baal.

Y'all comin' in clutch for this newbie trying to figure out where to dip his godly toes in

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