thewizardguy

The Blood Compact

A smile, and a slow clap from the audience. Tall and lanky as ever, Gabriel seemed to simply emerge from the small crowd that had gathered around Mithias. A smile lit his face, reaching from ear to ear. A row of bladed teeth, interlocking into a jaw that would be more befitting of a shark than a vampire. To Mithias, however, no shadow hid the ever-charming lines of Gabriel's face, the illusions that had secured Gabriel's image in the minds of the less protected fading before Mithias' gaze. Under the brim of the top hat was not a pair of bright glowing dots, nor were Gabriel's eyes at all red. His face was not smooth and inhuman, as it appeared to those with more open minds. It was rather a human face, covered in the drawn lines of a man who had seen many things. His skin was pale, but not extremely so - had it not been for his teeth, Gabriel could almost have passed for human. However, one more thing marred his appearance. A long scar ran over his face, something in between a slash and a burn, disfiguring what must once have been a handsome face. It was a mark that never healed, even with the healing factor of a vampire. It had been there as long as Mithias could remember, and presumably long before he had been born. Gabriel would not speak of it, nor would he explain how he had gained this mark. However, undoubtedly, it had been one of the few brushes with death Gabriel had experienced. "It seems like there are things I haven't seen after all, even in my lifetime. My boy, you could play? How dare you never have shown your old man before now, I'm practically insulted!" Gabriel chuckled, as he marched forward, the humans scattering and returning to whatever had previously occupied their empty and meaningless lives. With a simple gesture of thought, Gabriel reached into their minds, plucking out all memory of the event. They would not remember having seen him, or having watched a street performer dressed in leather. "And all this just to find me? You'd think humble old me were someone important. A celebrity, perhaps? Come, come, we have much to talk about. I hear you left SOLDIER? I thought you'd never leave them behind you." Turning, Gabriel started up the street, erasing the memories of any who would even look in his direction, effectively invisible to the world.

The Blood Compact

Mathew smiled brightly, as he took the cup off the table, refusing to sit down. "I love mysteries. I really do. But you know what I really hate? I hate easy answers. I'm of a mind that my friend the Collector would agree with me." Mathew places both his hands on the table, looking around at the two figures present. "There is no reason to believe the true Collector would present himself anywhere near me, more so if he has any clue who I am and what I am planning. So How come every step of the way I find one practically being thrown at my face? No, you two are diversions, you're too obvious, you're too plain. I don't even believe you're an old-blood." Mathew gestures at the vampire, mild annoyance crossing his face. "We're going to talk, of that you can be sure. But what we'll be discussing isn't business. It's the identity of the Collector. I'd like you fine gentlemen to help me brainstorm, even in your apparent unwitting stupidity." Mathew takes a sip, before throwing the cup across the room, disgusted. "Sweet Mary, what is that stuff? Liquid tar?" He sighs, before straightening out his suit. "Excuse me, I do tend to get a bit excited. You must understand. It isn't often I find a mystery so hard to crack, or a person so hard to find. Finding people is my thing, and to find someone even close to my level of skill is rather... rare. I believe your little Collector here is one of the few people who may match my understanding of the world, and as such someone whom I would like to share a rather lucrative business offer with." The old man began to speak, only to have Mathew kick over his chair, disinterested. "Not now, you old fart. I was talking to those who can still remember their names. Hopefully, that doesn't rule out you, as well?" Mathew directs a poignant glare at the vampire. "Or at least, whatever name you choose to go by now."

The Blood Compact

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh, is that an SCP article I see, attempting to camouflage itself as a Character Sheet? The official format isn't present, but the style is very much visible.

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

@thewizardguy You had one job. One. Simple job. You yourself said you weren't bringing them back. Of course that was a while ago, but you said it early on in the rp.

@kishin asura

I did? Well, I lied. Or maybe it didn't. Depends on how badly you guys screw up ^^.

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

Obviously! In any case, sorry for lack of posts, had a tabletop >.>

The Blood Compact

Sorry for lack of posts, had a session of tabletop today >.>

The Metahuman Revolution

Even as 57 walked away, he heard a voice speak behind him. How his opponent had survived was irrelevant, a mystery to be resolved later. But by speaking, his opponent had lost any chance of catching 57 by surprise. Even without turning, he already knew the attack that would be coming his way merely from the description provided by his opponent. 57 jumped up, flipping in mid-air to grab a hold of the pipelines above him. The room below him was blasted with fire, but the refracted rays of heat that struck him were sufficiently weakened that his suit could absorb them with ease. In realizing the limitations placed upon his opponent's capabilities, 57 had received an immense advantage in the form of an early-warning system and description of all incoming attacks. And against a being such as 57, the 2 seconds it took to speak were a lifetime. Dropping to the ground, 57 was already moving out of the way of the next attack. He had calculated the diameter and heat unleashed by Magi's attacks, allowing him to dodge the minimum necessary distance to ascertain no damage. From a mere glance at the starting orb, he could quite easily calculate the intensity of the attack and act as such. Once he had quantified this correlation, dodging the walls of fire and ice had become a piece of cake, and he had become nearly impossible to hit. Walls and obstacles were broken apart in mere moments, provided he could even be caught within. Once more, 57 fired his weapon, timing it perfectly in the middle of the chant of an offensive spell, making it impossible for his opponent to erect some form of shield. The bullet struck at Mach 3, ripping through his body at such a speed that it didn't even create the shockwave of a normal body. In strage irony, this made the shots far less lethal - the damage inflicted was limited to the hole created, as opposed to the kinetic force that would be released into Magi's inner organs had the bullet become lodged in his flesh. But a hole was a hole, and general scientific consensus agreed that having holes where they weren't supposed to be was - on the whole - bad for your health. "You should have stayed quiet, mage. You've become your own undoing. I-" Midspeech, 57 was cut off by the communication by Tyler, directed straight into his brain. It was clear that he had been enraged, and what the cause of his anger was. 57 would have to tread carefully, were he to not arouse the ire of his companion. Or his lead. "The drones deployed have been programmed to recognize mutants based upon a standard UV-scan analysis with 86% accuracy rating. They are also specifically programmed to retaliate to any perceived form of harm." 57 never spoke, instead simply leaving the room Magi was in without a word, prioritising the possible alienation of his former ally. His thoughts were transmitted through electronic signals, translated into vocal messages by the communications device carried by Tyler. "I was not aware that there were children within the base, Tyler, there was no way I could have known. And our drones are not programmed to recognize children, because doing so accurately is hard without in-depth examination." Quickly, 57 headed towards Tyler's position. A number of commands were given to the drones that had already taken down most of the base. Protocol would demand that he simply continue the extermination, regardless of the presence of children, and he would agree. These children were soldiers, forced to be such by the madmen in charge of this terrorist group, turned into living weapons. They were too dangerous to allow to live. However, 57 was well aware of Tyler's emotional and impulsive nature, it would be best to placate him now. The drones would pull back, forming a perimiter at every known exit to the base. "I've given the order for all drones to retreat to the entrance. This will minimize any unintentional casualties. Taking into account the presence of children, we will attempt to negotiate a surrender from the terrorists. I will transmit this message to them using the vocal transmitters in the drones, and attempt to arrange some form of meeting. Unless you have any sort of objection to this proposal? It seems to me like this would be the only method to avoid the death of more children."

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

I know they're not chains. I also know they're not sufficiently impressive to hold much of anything. But chihuaha's are cool.

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

An eyebrow raised, 5 looks around at his surroundings, instantly mimicking Ozzy's form. Fire and brimstone, a typical Hell as devised by the mind of a simpleton, of one who could not truly comprehend suffering. It was a fool's idea of Hell, devised through the meaningless method of physical torture. "Did you really think I would be fooled?" In an instant, 5's arms seemed to disintegrate. His entire body was reduced to a skeleton as the nanites moved around at incredible speeds. For a moment, the air was filled with whirling blades, a surge of Soular energy propelling them at immense speeds. It was a barely visible series of explosive bursts of activity. And even as 5's body reformed, the two figures next to it dropped down, reduced to bite-sized bits. "I destroyed these beings' souls, and taken their story into myself. Did you think a foolish imitation by a demon would fool me? Are you truly so ignorant?" 5 stands, as he marches towards Ozzy, both arms transforming into what appear to be gattling guns, already whirring to attention. Soular energy crackles over the surface, as the two demons are simply drawn into the guns, their souls instantly reduced to a power source, temporary fuel. "Perhaps I will need to educate you as to who I am, you ignorant God. I am on a timetable, I will need to kill you quickly. So my apologies for skipping most of the monologue."

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

((Reply in weirdo-land will occur when Wraith posts)) With a loud snap, the beast gorges itself on Genocide's head. And even as he does so, he suddenly staggers back, birhgt white light bursting from his mouth and eyes. The head, he finds unexpectedly, had been absolutely bursting with magic. Already, he could feel new power filling him just from the head, as his body digested this foreign magic. He had been lucky the unexpected burst of arcane power hadn't been life magic, or that would have hurt like crazy. In any case, what had that been anyway? He hadn't sensed jack shit from the old man, and yet this would indicate he had been a rather powerful mage. And this particular flavor of magic was highly familiar, he'd eaten it before. It was... it was sealing magic. ..... oh shit. As he looks back at Genocide, he sees a massive pillar of grey light, beaming from the stump of his neck, an unearthly screeching filling the air. Even as he rushes forward to devour the rest, a blast of energy strikes him in the chest, as he goes flying backwards. The bang could be heard before he ever struck the wall, as the intruder smashed through layer after layer of reinforced steel at sonic speeds. At the end, his entire body was broken, nearly every bone smashed and every organ crushed. Even to Rudan, this was rather serious damage, and would take some time to repair. Even as he lay there, the knowledge of the devoured man flooded his mind. An immense being, crushing planet after planet. It was like a shadow, as it gradually moved across the sun, devouring it. An arcane parasite, that drew the life from entire solar systems at a time. A god, of sorts, without a pantheon, for the pantheon had been devoured. In many ways, Rudan found a kindred spirit, one who intended to absorb the entire universe into itself. And yet, Rudan also realized that this being had been trapped within mortal form, and the actions he had taken would have been one of the first steps to releasing it. --------------------------------------- Asura found his blast sucked away, the red energy striking a wall of shifting grey power. Quite rapidly, Genocide's head reformed, eyes once more glittering, no longer emitting such great bursts of light. "Ah, that felt good. It has been far too long, since I was able to stretch my vectors. To see and feel through my own body, instead of this accursed host. But I can't stick around. In this chaos, I might be devoured as well." Smiling, Genocide walks through the mysterious orb, the images that flicker over it's surface momentarily shaping into a single solid location. A shattered landscape, a broken moon. Corpses and debris float in orbit around a great space station, ripped apart by powers unknown. A visage of the fate that would await this world. Several more arms reached through the portal, long and spindly, and yet inherently graceful. The aura still grey, as this feeling of strange calm grew in the room. Were this hole not to be closed soon, the Daemon would march through. Even without knowing the meaning of the word, it was clear that this being possessed immense power. And from the tremors going through the planet even now, it was clear that it wouldn't stand much more punishment.