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    1. thewizardguy 12 yrs ago

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Just a random guy, doing random things. Main RP: Hell's Coffee Lounge Current RPs change often enough that it's too much effort keeping a list of them updated.

Most Recent Posts

@Regitnui
If it makes sense that they're taken out, they'll be taken out. But if it doesn't, they won't be. I'm not sure what these people are capable of, so I suppose it depends on how strong they are and how they approach it.

And they might have some trouble with Emblem, who is currently the strongest of the 'homemade supers'.
Got some stuff up, having my characters make a move.
♖ Jack of Spades ♠ Making Friends ♖



What an excellent day this was shaping up to be. An incident big enough for the High themselves to get involved. Chaos all across the city. And practically every hero in the city was distracted. It was like Christmas for Criminals. With all the attention these intruders were attracting, you could get away with practically anything. So it was no wonder that a small group of criminals has seized this opportunity with both hands, and were gunning for one of the largest banks in Epic City. With even the High distracted, at least for the moment, who was going to stop them? Who was even going to notice? Well, he was, obviously. Being a curious soul, he had devised a number of ways to gain information, and his sources were... very reliable.

Normally, a group of thugs wouldn't attract the Jack's attention, but to even attempt this heist indicated competence. Or at least ambition. And that was something Nikitovich could appreciate. The air was rife with the sweet scent of opportunity. It was a shame for such ambitious gentlemen to remain petty criminals. So he would have to go... make them an offer. With Epsilon currently deployed, he would have to go do it in person, but it was good to go out yourself every once in a while.

Clad in a fine midnight blue suit, the Jack of Spades made his way through the streets, a gaudy but expensive cloak flapping in the wind behind him. A simple white mask obscured his face, he wouldn't like his identity to become common knowledge. In his hand he held a long black cane, topped with a golden lion's head. Of course, more eye catching than his overblown attire was his overblown armament. Two M2 Browning machine guns floated gently behind him, their barrels moving together with the Jack's gaze. Each floated above a shoulder, and seemed to survey it's own surroundings. Powered by his own Networks, these weapons were capable of being aimed and fired by nothing more than a whim. They could even automatically lock on to targets within 10m and had a 'free roaming' mode. Indeed everything the Jack wore was adorned with his runic powers, turning ordinary attire into armour of the highest quality. Of course, if everything went well, there would be no need to demonstrate the preparations he had made.

Silently, he moved into the building. With a nod and a wave he made his way past the scared civilian, marching into the midst of the armed robbery as if it was the most natural thing in the world. If nothing else the 1.5m machine guns prevented anyone from firing at him as he walked into this place. With a glance, he inspected the criminals present, even as he had a pile of weapons pointed into his face. Animal masks. Not entirely his style, but functional. "It's such a nice day, there's no reason to ruin it by drawing blood. Greetings, my criminal friends. I am the Jack of Spades." Nikitovich bowed at the assembled criminals, a show of empty politeness. "I was simply in the area, when I noticed your little.... endeavour. I don't suppose you'd be interested in cooperation." Despite being outnumbered, the Jack was calm and confident. His voice oozed confidence. It was quite intentional. People automatically hesitated to attack someone who sounded confident. Especially in a world of superpowered madmen.

♙ Epsilon Team ♠ Hello World ♙


Shouting people stream through the streets. A fight between Epics does not go unnoticed, especially this many. Police are hesitant to approach the scene, those without power or with minor abilities flee. Not too long ago, Emblem would have been one of those people. Running from the danger, from things he couldn't possibly fight or influence. From up here they all looked like ants. Ants, caught in a battle between dinosaurs. But now it was different. No, more importantly, HE was different. Grinning, Emblem surveyed the scene from up above. He could feel the cold air on his skin. It got chilly up here, but the armour managed to keep him fairly warm. He liked being in the sky. It made him feel bigger than he really was. From up here, everyone on the ground looked equal. Except him, of course. Here he could pretend he was king of the world, that he owned all he surveyed.

[krrr.... Dusk reporting in. Emblem, are you there? We've arrived at the scene, and are moving in.]

Ah, what a pain. But he wasn't really bothered. This was his chance, after all. His chance to show off his face to the world, to show them the face of a hero. He would stop being some nobody and become EMBLEM, leader of Team Epsilon. Grinning, he swooped down, picking up speed as he went. This used to terrify him, but he was used to it now. It was exhilarating, feeling the g-forces working on his body. His red and gold costume picked up the light, a red cape flutter behind him. Wind racing past his face, his smile grew wider as he dropped to the ground in freefall, before elegantly pulling up.

"It seems that criminals get younger every year. What a shame. Personally, I blame smartphones." Beaming, Emblem slowly lowered himself to the ground while facing the two teenage villains. His cape fluttered heroically. There was no wind to allow such a thing, it just did that. Apparently it was a side effect of his power. It certainly fit. He could only imagine them shaking in their boots. He might not even have to fight them!

"Emblem! Man, you sure took your time! How come you can fly, but you're still always late?" A redheaded girl appeared from behind a nearby corner, where she'd apparently been waiting. Her costume was composed of a white spandex suit, with lines of sparkling neon orange. Two black gas tanks were strapped to her back, with long tubes leading to her wrists. Her cuffs were made of flammable material, and had been set on fire beforehand, a flashy fashion accessory only made possible by her own resistance to heat. She struck a pose while flashing a grin at the bad guys, just like she'd been practising. Just keep smiling, and make quips. That's what Nikitovich had told her to do. She was supposed to make an impression, like showing off an album for a singer. Of course, in reality she was terrified, although probably for all the wrong reasons.

What if she got the pose wrong? Her hair was fine, right? Did she hook up the tanks right? The guy back at base had looked it over but even so he might have missed something. Maybe it'd fall off, it could fall off at any moment! And was the outfit all right, even if it wasn't going to fall apart? Was the outfit too tight? Was it not tight enough? Worries wormed their way through her thoughts, even as she put on a mask of confidence. Fake it till you make it. She hold out both her hands and pressed the trigger in her palm. Gas released, and her abilities set it on fire. A plume of blue flame shot out, before hovering and twisting in the air. This gas was designed to keep on burning for a bit, and she used it to form a flaming serpent. It twirled around her like a dragon, directed by her slightest movements.

Emblem glanced over, impressed. He knew she'd been working to perfect that thing for a while now. It looked quite good, but he was determined not to be outdone on his first mission. So he turned towards the two masked girls, his grin not having faltered in the least. "It seems your luck is up, villains. With this many heroes on the scene, you can't really think you still have a chance, do you?" He'd seen more heroes nearby when he'd been up in the air, but he didn't mention them here. After all, he intended to have this whole thing wrapped up before anyone else got involved.




Meanwhile, Dusk screwed a scope onto his rifle. It was a fine specimen, one of the best he'd worked with. Getting your hands on guns in Epic City was relatively easy, but the higher-end stuff had always been too expensive for him. With practised, fluid motions he set up the bipod and took aim at the scene unfolding in the streets below. His vantage point on a nearby rooftop (Emblem had been kind enough to drop him off earlier) allowed him to easily spot all the major players. Some of them he recognised, some he didn't. Certainly the two masked villains were a mystery. Did they wear masks because they were already well-known? Or maybe it was just their 'style'.

In contrast to his teammates, Dusk's attire was simple and practical. A leather jacket, black pants, bulletproof plating. His face was obscured by a bike helmet, with a blackened visor. If anything he looked like a villain, but that was intentional. As far as the public was concerned, he had nothing to do with Team Epsilon. Emblem and Inferno, they were the eye-catchers. The faces of the team. They'd stand out and use their flashy powers to draw attention. Of course they were still fairly dangerous, but they both lacked training. His job wasn't anything so fancy. He lacked the looks, the charm, and the attitude. It was an unfortunate truth, some people are easier on the eyes than others. And while Dusk wasn't particularly ugly, he also didn't really stand out. Besides, his skills were more suited to a subtle approach. He was the behind-the-scenes guy. Nobody would ever know his face, but he didn't mind. In fact, that might be better. As long as the job got done.

Breathing out, he took aim. Supers loved showing off, always have. They'd spend some time fighting, then do something stupid like stand still and chat. Of course this was pretty much exactly what Dusk's teammates were doing, but they had good reason. For these people, it would end up being their downfall. If the Epics present were able to deal with the problem, excellent. It would make for an excellent story. But Epsilon's first outing needed to be a success. So if things took a turn for the worse... well, he had a couple of subtle methods of assisting his teammates, and some less subtle ones. They could have all the power in the world, but most folks were still stopped dead by an armour-piercing round between the eyes.
My post is stupidly short, because there's really not much to say or do. Sorry.
Khaine, Hell's Throne Chamber



After all these years, it seemed that he had been forgotten. That certainly made this easier. "I am Khaine, former knight of Hell." A brief introduction, Khaine was a demon of few words. Most likely Ira would be able to sense his ability, but if necessary he was more than willing to demonstrate his abilities. There was no question as to whether or not he was qualified, and it seemed that his greatest worry had been rendered moot. "I will fight for you. You require more warriors." Both statements were true, as far as Khaine knew. The fact that he ulterior motives for joining with Hell didn't change his willingness to fight. So, having made his statement, Khaine just stood silently and waited.
As one of the disappeared players, I've been having a strange case of writer's block. It's not that I'm not here, I'm just not entirely sure what to do with my character at the moment....

Sorry. I'll see if I can think of something he can get involved in.
I vote posting IC, it makes everything clearer and easier to handle.
Posted an intro for Matt. He was not ready for this ^-^.
Matt Harken <>



Throughout the group creation process, Mat had been stumbling around meekly seeing if he'd be picked up by anyone. With his nerves the way they were before the test, he really didn't have it in him to talk to these strange people. And non-people, too. All kinds of diverse characters had showed up, and all of them seemed to have some clue what they were doing. Halfway through Mat made an meek attempt at conversation with a darkskinned human guy, only to be completely ignored. Since then he had just stared at his feet and fidgeted, hoping he wouldn't get disqualified for failing to find a group.

When the teacher started talking, Mat couldn't do anything other than stare at his feet. By the time he was being assigned to a team his face had turned bright red, and he could swear everyone was looking at him. At that moment, he'd do anything to get out of the situation. However he solemnly marched over to his new teammates, although he didn't get too close. He refused to even look up from the ground, fervently asserting in his mind that as long as he didn't look at them, they couldn't judge him. He was broken out of his little bubble of self-pity when the teacher started explaining their equipment, however. A rifle? What in god's name were they supposed to use a rifle for? Were they going to shoot people? Were there going to monsters? Oh no, oh no, oh no. He'd thought the physical exam would be running or something, maybe some wrestling. Something he could get past, and then make up for in the written test. He didn't even know how to use a gun properly! Hell, he'd hardly ever even seen one!

While relieved at the fact that his knowledge and education would be able to net him some points in this exam, the explanation of the other two objectives left him staring incredulously at the teacher. They had to hold the central temple with REAL GUNS? Wait, KILL POINTS? They were going to send the students out to kill each other?! What kind of insane place was this!! Halfway through the explanation Mat's hand shot up, which swiftly transitioned into a sort of frantic hopping as he tried to get noticed. This was entirely unreasonable. There was no way that they were actually setting up some sort of death-tournament. There had to be a catch. Was the ammo rubber bullets? Were the students protected by magic? But no such system was established, and the teacher merely ended his lecture by teleporting Matt and the entire group off into the distance.

Defeated, Mat sank through his knees. It felt like his stomach kept sinking, all the way down into the ground. A cold knot of anxiety had taken it's place in his body. In front of him lay a small pile of gear he had no idea how to use, and in the distance he could already hear scary sounds. Biting his lip, he took a moment to collect himself. This was going to be fine. He might not be great at fighting, but he had his own talents. Surely the other students wouldn't be out for blood. And there were probably people with healing magic ready to make sure people didn't actually die. Besides, his teammates were probably skilled and competent people. Breathing in and out to calm himself, Mat decided to finally examine the people he'd been lumped in with.

First he took a look at the girl, and immediately discarded any illusions of camaraderie. She certainly didn't look like she was interested in light conversation. The look in those eyes could be accurately summed up as... hostile. Despite this, the way the small girl handled that rifle somewhat reassured Mat. She held it like she knew what she had some clue what she was doing, which was enough to put her above his own level of competence.

Second he glanced over at the guy. He looked even bigger when compared to the girl. This guy was wearing military uniform, and something about the way he handled himself radiated confidence. Like he'd been in situations like this before. In fact, something about his face seemed familiar. And the name the teacher had mentioned earlier. In his embarrassment and confusion Mat had completely forgotten what his teammates were called. How was he supposed to address them without their names? Oh no. He was going to make a fool out of himself all over again. If he kept quiet, maybe he could just kind of follow them victory....

Deciding against any misguided attempts at actual human interaction, Mat instead sat down and scooped up the condensers he'd been given. Those, at least, he could use. The guns he put in his backpack, handling them gingerly as if they might suddenly explode. The only reason he was picking them up was because he felt strangely bad about just leaving them on the ground. The backpack, of course, were magic. A bag of holding, one he'd made himself. It had been one of his first magic items. It wasn't very good, it only held twice it's normal volume and it didn't do more than halve the weight of objects placed inside. So it was only about as good as having two backpacks. But nonetheless he enjoyed using it, and it helped him store the rather large and cumbersome rifle. Next he retrieved something from the bag, which was getting a little full with the addition of the guns.

What he retrieved seemed to be a massive stack of brightly coloured paper. Reds and blues were the most prominent colours, although all the colours of the rainbow were represented in some fashion. Leaning down Mat placed one of the condensers on the stack, even as he said some arcane words. Or at least they were supposed to be arcane words. In reality, the activation phrase was 'fizzy gum sticks', but he added in some latin-sounding gibberish to disguise the poorly chosen password. As soon as the words left his lips the pile of paper started folding out, and then refolding itself, reconstructing it's appearance until a three-metre origami golem was formed. This brightly coloured companion was Fizzlestick, an easily storable and portable paper golem. Mat had also used his enchanting magic in order to make it waterproof so it could go out in the rain, and it was a good bit tougher than normal paper. You'd have trouble killing it with scissors, at least, although Mat hadn't considered making it bulletproof.

Once it finished folding itself into the proper shape Fizzlestick formed a seat with it's hands, and Mat hopped on. He wouldn't have to walk with his pet golem to carry him everywhere. And with Fizzlestick's long legs, there was no way he'd lag behind his newly found companions (or at least, allies). Besides, he always felt a bit safer with Fizzlestick around, even if the golem wasn't really suited to battle. Smiling shyly he turned to the other two, silently hoping one of them had an actual plan.
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