Coile

(( This is broadcasted at 11 am on 21.2.2007 on HERO-FM, a Paragon City radio station dealing with superpowered individuals. ))

Male voice: This is Thomas Nightwish from HERO-FM and I am currently in Atlas Park's Chiron Medical Center attending a press conference. A statement will be given by doctor Jane Bright. Here she is now.

Jane Bright: I am here to confirm a suspected case of a super plague arriving from another dimension. By accounts this disease spreads through the air and is lethal. I can confirm that we have five patients contained in isolation wards. The incubation period is presumed to be short and the disease runs its course in a week. So far we have yet to identify this virus from the samples at our disposal. At least one possible carrier remains at large in the Etoile Islands. We plead anyone with any knowledge of the possible carrier or of those having been in contact with him, to inform the local medical authorities. Updates will be given as we learn more. Now, are there any questions?

Female voice: Erinella Dusk, Power Journal. How were the patients contaminated? Did they visit another dimension where they got it from?

Jane Bright: This seems to be the course of events.

Male voice: Nathan Berkley, Daily Comet. I understood the patients belong to a registered supergroup. Who are they?

Jane Bright: They belong to a single group, yes. As for the name, I am not at a liberty to say.

Nathan Berkley: Is it true that it is the Silent Tempest?

Jane Bright (irritated): I am not at a liberty to say. Speculate one more time and I will have you thrown out of here, is this clear?

<a brief silence>

Jane Bright: Good.

Male voice: Jackson Jackson, the J-mag. How lethal is this disease?

Jane Bright: What was your name again?

Jackson Jackson: Jackson Jackson.

Jane Bright: Your parents must have hated you.

<aughter from others which quickly dies out into an awkward silence as they realize Jane was not making a joke>

Jackson Jackson: Uh...

Jane Bright: The disease by accounts is one hundred percent lethal with no known cure. That is one thing that we aim to change.

Female voice: Eileen Doyle, Paragon Times. What are you currently doing about the situation?

Jane Bright: We are examining the patients and trying to isolate the virus. Once that has been done we will conduct tests to learn the mechanisms by which it works and develop a cure. We also try to contain the possible plague by acquiring all possible carriers under medical supervision.

Male voice: Harrison Ratman, Paragon Inquirer. Is it true that all the patients share the same space regardless of gender?

Jane Bright: I will not answer leading questions which will be misquoted, Mister Ratface. Furthermore if I catch a single word in your publication tarnishing the reputation of my personal self or this hospital I will sue you to the full extent of the law and see your miserable trash tabloid editorial staff incarcerated for slander, do I make myself clear?

<a brief silence>

Jane Bright: Good.

Female voice: Lena Milestone, Medical Anomalies Quarterly. How long do the patients have?

Jane Bright: Before their death you mean. We do not know enough of the virus currently to issue a definite estimate. However the incubation period is expected to be short and the death follows soon after. I would not give them much more than two weeks provided that they are infected and no cure is found.

Nathan Berkley: If one of the Tempest is in the Rogue Isles, he or she is either held captive or is trying to find local medical expertise to aid the supergroup. Which is it? Is it their leader?

Jane Bright (irritated): In the interest of preventing public unrest I have to mention that the missing patient is expected to remain stationary until further notice and not spreading the virus around. I can confirm the missing patient is the leader of the affected supergroup. I will not speculate on his identity.

Female voice: Harriet Kasary, Viral Review Monthly. Will you be handling this on your own or will you acquire expert help from field specialists?

Jane Bright: We have been in talks with experts. Currently a confirmed associate for this case is Mister Star Crusader, coincidentally from the supergroup Silent Tempest. Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do.

Thomas Nightwish: There you have it, listeners. We will be broadcasting updates as they become available. Now back to studio to Dana Strato but before that 'Soulcrash' from Human Alternative. Enjoy the beautifully cascading voice of Nathalie Brissaud. This is HERO-FM and Thomas Nightwish.

Sometimes I wonder why people write their life's story into their bio field. RP-wise it makes little sense and just gives OOC info. You can't know someone's story just by looking at them and that's what a bio effectively does.

Personally I wrote into Coile's bio some stuff that has been published about him. That is information that other characters can know, although of course they don't have to know. The neat bit is that even if every single thing from bio is taken directly as IC info, it doesn't bork anything.

It's a different dimension and with access from Rogue Isles and I don't think that that lot is too concenred about age when it comes to buying booze.

Some people have had trouble getting alcohol in Pocket D due to age but as not all do so I guess it can be put down to the quirks of individual bartenders.

Then again, we have bar counters with no staff and people freely help themselves to the stuff there so I guess in the end it's safe to say that it is easy enough to get a drink in Pocket D despite the age.

And as for tending the bar, it is always FAR better to talk to a played bartender instead of the NPC guy with a funky seizure attack going. If you like pulling bartender duty, by all means please continue.

"Coile did not feel any fear.

Not because he was so brave. Mostly because he was already long gone.

Gone as away or gone as passed away seemed to be the question."

Hope to see you with one of my other toons. Since you're Isles-side it'll have to be in Pocket D.

Shell shocked! (9.2.2007)

"Splinter taught them to be ninja teens (He's a radical rat!)
Leonardo leads, Donatello does machines (That's a fact, Jack!)
Raphael is cool but crude (Gimme a break!)
Michaelangelo is a party dude (Party!)"
- Opening credit lyrics to TMNT season 1

Another night of usual mayhen with Winter and Pyranha occurred this Friday when they totally took over the bar in Pocket D. None was safe from their wit and puns as no subject was too delicate or radical. The brunt was felt by everyone who had not the presence of mind to evacuate immediately upon contact. Such victims were aplenty.

Two people who had it the easiest were Phonos and Stygian Minx, both of whom made it quickly to Winter's and Pyr's casual friends list. Or maybe they had it the hardest - they were sucked headlong into the random madness that is even hardly the whole spectrum of insanity that is widely known as the Ghost Tiger Investigations Show.

How goofy do you have to be to set your own hat to fire? At least that kind of a guy can't be a ninja. And remember! Never smile to a ninja! Or even a topless French ninja with a beret.

Now, some may point out that there are no topless French ninjas with a beret. All that I can say is, "so do YOU think!" Isn't that one of the best disguises for a ninja? And the topic of the night was set. There were ninjas everywhere. Everyone's a ninja! But how to improve the wackyness? Ninjas carry only so far.

But wait! There was Pyranha! Winter! Phonos! Styx! (Winter nicknamed her, so sue her - would just be one more charge on her rap sheet.) Four members of their very own ninja clan, the green clan of half-shelled heroes who like pizza!

TURTLE POWER!

Pyranha became the leader of them all, Leonardo, armed with a sharp katana. Winter wanted to be Donatello but was tagged to be Raphael, anti-heroish troublemaker armed with sais. She was down with that, and as it turned out it wasn't the only thing she went down on. Phonos got to be Donatello, the least agressive and smart alec of the group possessing a long quarterstaff called bo, which became a source of endless amusement. Styx was Michelangelo with nunchas, the easy going adventurous comic relief. Familiar who arrived later was quickly named Splinter, the revered teacher and father figure to the gathered turtles.

Amidst the kookiness something troublesome was brewing. Faithful to Victorian era practice Winter announced having to go to powder her nose (well, snout, she's prone to anachronisms) and left for ladies' room. However the best lies are hidden behind the truth and there really was some business with a nose and some powder.

When the night grew old and people were leaving Winter's and Styx's mild flirt throughout the evening reached the point where somewhing either would happen or not. When it looked like Winter was going to leave with the goth girl Pyr wanted a brief word with her best friend. She wanted to know if Winter really was using despite all of her promises to the contrary. She kept also wondering where Winter got the money, and where did she buy her drugs. Both actually valid questions.

Winter assured that she was not hooked, she just used every now and then. Less than once a week. It was under control, really. Pyr was less than convinced and positively not happy. As her monetary sources Winter named first her wage from Ghost Tiger but apparently realized that Pyr knew exactly how much the firm was paying to which employee and added that she was using her mother's savings account. Something that Pyr called stealing while Winter maintained her mom wasn't using the money anyway and would give it to her daughter.

Having no further will to argue Pyr let her friend go on her way. Winter looked up Styx who was waiting by the doors and followed her to a place in Kings Row. She left only late in the morning as she likes to sleep long. No exact details of the night are available but since Styx has some regenerative abilities her approach to pain has been slightly tilted from the norm, and Winter being high was open for some exploration.

All that and now Winter has magic that can't be confiscated just by taking a ring away. I know, I know, I've said it before but I just like saying it. Winter likes it too.

Azure Sting dies! Jiffy Blakes's murderer exposed! Amber Banshee bears her soul! Love Angel approaches the president of the United States! Sabrina San hunted! Nightsparrow released to nome arrest! Coile and Sword of Truth disappear! Andre and Nadia elope to another dimension! Diana gets a visit from a Woman in Black!

All this and insightful comments in the latest addition to Scrapbook!

Obey the Stickler

This whole work screams "Style!" All graphical elements are where they make the most impact. I have no idea who or what Stickler is but now I have the feeling that if I run into him IG I'd be inclined to Obey.

That one poster creates a whole world into the background. The Stickler is just one part of that world. Here we have one example in practice of the "one picture equals a thousand words".

True class act.

(( There's a thousand pages of stuff that the writer is embarrassed to publish that one still has to write in order to get at the good stuff. He's half a page's worth of my quota... ))

Darkness. Pain. Familiar feelings. Also cold. Why the cold?

Arm is not moving. What is happening? I hear noises. Is someone out there?

It is a siren. I think I am moving. It is cold. Terribly cold. Where are they taking me?

I can still taste. Iron. Blood. I remember blood. A lot of it. Mostly mine.

Was I shot? Did something go through me? Is that why it is so cold?

Oh god. Inside, inside there is my core. It makes me what I am.

I always wondered if it could get damaged. Always wondered what if I died.

If I concentrate inside I can see it. Light. Beautiful light. Then the dark again. And cold.

I still cannot feel my arm. They modified it. To be better, they said. I want to move but cannot.

I feel touch on my face. Tongue not moving. Dark. Cold. I smell antiseptics. Hospital. The siren has fallen silent.

Something pulsates. The light within. I feel my arm. It is warm. Hot. I want to shout but cannot.

The dark gives way for the light. From inside. Cold gives way for warmth.

I shine like a star.

Oh god. My core is damaged. I am dying.

No. More.

I die.

Now.

Hyperion, if I recall correctly, is a Marvel superhero belonging to Squadron Supreme. So, a derivative name might srve better?

- Blazing Hyperion ('blaze of glory' could be a possible reference to his eventual end)
- Hyperion Star (possible emblem for the SG here)
- Hyper Ion (a charged hero with perchance to puns)

Duh, food is ready. Gotta set the table and get zerglings to eat. More maybe later.

[ QUOTE ]
how 'bout raids for ppl that can't do fridays?

[/ QUOTE ]

There's a simple solution.

Lost can't organize raids for other days than Fridays (or Fridays are best).

A raid needs someone organizing it.

There is no free raid organizing service catering to all needs.

If you want a raid, organize it. No, I'm serious. Look at the first post in each Hami raid thread. Arrange to have task leaders or what they are called, have them pull together their teams and run the thing. It is work, but not impossible to do.

However, such a raid is a topic for another thread as this one is for weekly Friday night raids. (Or so I assume.)

Reading the replies it seems that Science origin was among acceptable choices of all who picked at least one of them. (I think Natural was selected zero times.)

Just to note, so that there are no misunderstandings, I won't be taking part, mostly due to being already too busy with my main character and the small supporting cast. I just had an urge to write up something that's hopefully useful to someone out there.

I miss my longer recaps but there isn't enough hours in the day. On the to-do list is Andre's part in the first day of Melanie's trial, ND-Nightsparrow's logs after Zirgei brought her back online last night, a more than week old story about Andre introducing the Omega task force to Nadia, a few articles for Scrapbook that might be related to Crown, a few journal entries, GM'ing the investigations about Jiffy's dead and directing now a full staff of a paper as they resume Jiffy's investigations. How do people with even more active alts handle the load?

Coile's whereabouts from last night were documented by others so a brief look at Zirgei.

Andre's father Zirgei Kraft has yet to return to his robot farm after the foiled wedding. He has been fiddling with ND-Nightsparrow, a hybrid between ND-2 frame that used to be a mother to Andre and Andrea and NIGHTSPARROW AI / personality emulation that Darksparrow carried in her head when she came back through time. The ND-N had been failing and crashing a lot and Zirgei promised to fix her.

Now, almost two weeks later the task is done and ND-N is operational. Save, almost all of her memory modules have been detached and thus unaccessible. All the modules have now been stored in the physical area of the positronic brain that Zirgei calls 'the ND core'. It is supposedly purged of previous progtramming, but still there are anomalous spikes of weird communication that refer to protecting Andre and Andrea, 'the young masters'.

While discussing the changes Zirgei inquired what was NIGHTSPARROW's agenda in this time. Darksparrow was here to prevent the dark future where she came from, even if it meant gutting her grandfather Andre whom the rumours blamed for pretty much everything. Zirgei suggested that if Melanie was sentenced for the crimes she would rot in a prison until the new Rikti invasion. Maybe NIGHTSPARROW was here to change history so that Melanie would not lose her family for years and years.

Darksparrow contacted her C14 computer and asked for an analysis. The results: with 86% certainty this indeed is ND-Nightsparrow's goal right now. With 91% NIGHTSPARROW in the future orchestrated the Jondalh attack on resistance command center only to force Darksparrow to compress the AI and take it with her through time.

A charming family. Supposedly Coile will be responsible for the whole Jondalh invasion and Nightsparrow will sacrifice part of the resistance movement to further her personal goals. Not that the granddaughter Angelique or the family's grand old man Zirgei are that much better.

Zirgei promised to bring back online ND-N's memory module regarding the trial because Darksparrow saw it furthering also her own goals. So, now the AI with secret agendas is back on with weird remains of Coile's and Coila's mother interfering with the tasks.

A few interesting questions can be brought up. Will ND-N attempt to alter the history and what happend if anything should she succeed? Is the ND core active by some anomalous error or by some sinister design of Zirgei? Is the Hand of Andros willing to leave unpredictable temporal warriors run around unchecked or have they in truth already excerted control over the whole matter from the shadows? And, with the most crucial memory modules now attached back, what will ND-Nightsparrow intend to do? Will there be a bodycount, and how high? One vigilante is now in prison, will there now be a schizophrenic vigilante AI with an alien tech combat frame filling the niche?

Time will tell.

I'm contemplating a longer recap, but I feel even a short one is needed as a lot of stuff is now happening in small groups and behind closed doors.

Two disasters struck. One was Coile telling, as asked, to Love Angel's parents that their girl was a licensed hero. The other was the wedding ceremony of Andre and Melanie (aka Coile and Nightsparrow) which ended in police arresting Melanie for all kinds of stuff, including multiple counts of murder.

Love Angel's situation became bad. Her parents were firmly opposed to Diana being a hero, so much that they thought of moving away. A new approach attempt was made by Sword of Truth and Kitalia but their case didn't hold much weight. If anything, Jane and Nigel were more strongly inclined to move away.

Coile made one final attempt and reasoned along the lines Sword had used but added the angle of Diana's happiness into the mix. A sort of deal was struck and Nigel wanted to see up close how Tempest worked in the missions. (I was dubious about using Invincible setting for this but it represented the actual risks.) This went all belly up from the beginning when Sword used her field commander authority and Nigel didn't agree on the terms. The game was lost, and so was Diana.

Then Diana fell ill. Well, just fell. She collapsed and would not wake up in the hospital. The parents were frantic and tried to block Tempest from even learning how their friend was. Sword came again to blows with Nigel and it was Coile later who managed to convince the father that a Tempest doctor Star Crusader could maybe help Diana. After signing some papers Coile got a permission to call Xan to examine Diana.

It turned out that Diana's very nature to do good had become a life threatening obstacle. She wanted to please her parents by being diligent in school, to do as they told and to move away. At the same time she felt distraught over having to leave her hero life and her team behind. It was a dilemma she could not solve as either option woul dhave been going against her nature. So, her mind just shut down.

Again after some parental hassle a permit to treat Diana was obtained as well as a contract wich stated the rules under which Diana could still function as a hero. Coile and Sword used medicines to bring Diana out of her lockdown and talked to her, and that seemed to solve the problem.

Now Diana is recovering. There is still no idea how badly the lockdown damaged her mind and if her powers still exist or if they were wiped out as she sought to solve her dilemma from the inside. Time will tell. She is yet to return to action. Coile visits her daily.

Next up: wedding from hell, or I married a serial killer.

[ QUOTE ]
I didn't post to flame

[/ QUOTE ]

I would class:

[ QUOTE ]
You're literally ruining the RP experience for others.

[/ QUOTE ]

...as a sort of flame. There is no need to critique on these boards how others RP because there is no one way that all parties agree on.

I could say that exact same sentence to a bunch of people. But, that would just brew negativity and probably bring nothing good at all. So, instead I tend to select the crowd I play with.

Sometimes I put up with stuff I don't particularly enjoy. Sometimes I don't and I move a few meters to be out of chat range, or go totally elsewhere to do other things. Mind you, sometimes Coile moving away has more to do with talking about secrets or discreet stuff than about just avoiding others.

If there is a wish to inform and educate, then the manner should be as neutral as possible.

And although I have also done it on occasion, it is not (imho) polite to publically voice /ignores. Maybe that's just me.

Apologies for slugging at Hami at that one point. For some reason that I don't know (likely explanation is a feck-up on my end of some sort) I lost the targeter as my target and just did not have the presence of mind to check it. Thus Hami had ended up as my target.

After that I kept losing the targeter frequently, sometimes after only two shots fired and not having touched anything but attact keys. Also relocating the target seemed to be an issue towards the end. On a few occasions I had to resort to finding the mito that had a dropping health bar and target that mito directly in order to keep dealing damage.

Did anyone else suffer from this or have a good explanation? I'd like to avoid these things tha next time.

Also sorry for no hami-cossie. I had intended to fly high above with PA team where a smooth costume was not such an important factor. Now there was no need for that so I ended up pulling ground duty with civilian wear on.

If in a bar you see people whom you don't like, surely you go to some other place? Even on hero side there are four bar counters which are out of earshot form each other.

On the other hand, as people react as they will, villains who proudly discuss their more gruesome exploits will notice those not in the mood for gore drifting away.

Don't go OOC. Tell the characters IC that you prefer to be away from them. Then go to the next counter. Wait for some others who think like that come to you. Then resume RP.

Just to note, Coile and Echo go a way back so Coile is likely to give Echo some leeway, although he'd be prone to steer the discussion away from such topics. From others he is not likely to take such boasting very much at all. So, chances are that we'll meet at some other bar counter.

It's IC, folks. If at all possible, deal with it IC. Surely villains will understand when told that if they talk about gore then a lot of people will stop talking to them. If they are after social interaction with others they will adjust accordingly, or be IC excluded.

Silent Tempest relations with Militia! Sabrina San hunted! Death of Jiffy Blakes! New issue of Inquirer! All this and a commentary track in the latest addition to Nightsparrow's scrapbook!

Coile enters Talos police station and walks past the desk as always. The man behind it, Frankie B, waves his hand.

"Andre, over here please."

"What is it? My Melanie's trial starts in one hour and I have to talk to her before that."

"Just a few question. Won't take long."

"Fine."

"1. Are you a licensed hero?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I am!"

"2. Are you a member of the Militia?"

"Thank sky goddess above I can say that I'm not. I'm the leader of thr Silent Tempest."

"3. Are you aware of any vigilanteism within the Militia?"

"Beside my wife? No, not really."

"4. Are you aware of any criminal activity within the Militia?"

"I already got the call. I'm not interested in pressing charges over the sword theft at this time."

"5. Do you know the whereabout of Sabrina San?"

"Huh? I said I am not pressing charges. As to where she is, I really, really could not care less even if I closed my eyes and wished really hard."

6. If you were ordered to apprehend Sabrina San, would you obey?

"I serve, I don't just take orders. I'm not interested in Sabrina. I'm not getting involved. But if she's wanted, and if she crosses my path, then yeah, I'd take her down. Can I *now* please go see my wife, eh"

"Absolutely. Just asking questions as told. Go on, you know the route already."

How crucial is the raid costume if the service I would provide is groupfly for PA team? I mean I'd be out of most people's field of vision, so would another costume than raid costume contribute to the lag?

The costume I have in mind is "street clothes". Black boots, black pants, black shirt and black gloves. No aura, no cape.

No commitment either. No idea yet when I get zerglings to bed.

(( I am terribly sorry but the small break became infinite and permanent. Jiffy Blakes is dead. Not my primary choice as far as character development goes but as I so frequently say, IC is IC. Events took place, a situation brewed, a life threatening action was taken. A D100 was rolled. Jiffy died.

I thank all who expressed interest for this article. It might be some consolation that there exists a raw version of the article that Jiffy's editor-in-chief will print after some tidying up.

If someone wants their character involved, to start looking at things and digging around, please contact either @Coile or @Rhinotar. However be mindful of what kind of a plot this is. Jiffy got himself into a situation where he died. The game is called hardball. The risks are real.

I miss Jiffy already. He was my second favourite character and my slots are full. )).

(( There is an editorial in Daily Comet today. Accessible through the link. Please note that if you have no tolerance for bad words, do not click. ))

Solid Core (1.2.2007)

I did some mood excercises. One for each AT. Use 'em or lose 'em. They are generic stuff anyway.


Natural

Just another fight between powers. A villanous plot. Capes to the rescue. Just another fight.

They don't talk about it, the collateral damage. The toll that is exacted on the innocent population. It does not happen always. Just sometimes. Those occasions touch only a select few. The rest go about their business, having narrowly avoided an untimely demise or just thrilled over seeing some superaction up close.

For those select few the life comes to an end. A stray fireball. A hurling truck. Lethal radiation, laser beam, lightning, power bolt, a chunk of ice. The cause matters not. To them, the result matters not either. To them nothing matters any more.

It is those close to those select few that are truly affected. Wife, child, father. Friend, lover, special someone. Someone loses someone. The human story all over. And the loss cuts deep. Sometimes to the deepest recesses of the soul.

There are burials. Funerals. Wakes. The dead are mourned in private and among close circles missing their unique centers. Sometimes if the event has been a spectacular one the City holds an open memorial. It is there where all those myriad circles can come together.

They come together to remember those who have been ripped away from them. They come together to shed tears and bleed inside. They start to whisper to each other, talk about the loved ones that they lost. They share their memories and thoughts. Different people from all walks of life, brought together by circumstances beyond their control.

Sometimes, the whispers grow to grumbling, the grumbling to raised voices and the raised voices to angry cries. Cries for safety, for action, and for revenge. Sometimes the cries echo and die out. The people are content to just voice their discontent.

Rarely, action is taken. People come together for a purpose, ordinary people, no powers. Just the iron will to exact change.

And thus a group is born.


Mutation

There is a village out there, somewhere in America. It is deserted now, no one lives there any longer. That is because it became tainted, years ago. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Who is counting? It became tainted by radiation although at the time no one knew.

Maybe it was a technological marvel that malfunctioned. Maybe a being of great potential that spew its natural waste. A portal leaking out the background hum of another universe. The source is not the question. The effects are.

That radiation washed over and through the entire population of that small village. It caused nausea, cancer, a few deaths then and a few deaths later. You know the story, it has been told a thousand times.

The radiation also caused unborn babies to adapt. To change to withstand the new conditions. Inside the wombs they transformed, the genetic structutre altering according to the new instructions. There are no records how many miscarriages there were, nor how many monsters came out of their mothers. All that is known is that there were healthy babies too.

Little by little the people in the small village died or moved away. Those with children stayed the longest. Years and years went by as the life dragged on. The children grew up. Kindergarden, school. The early teens, the midteens. Ordinary, dull existence. Then one day the dull existence blinked out like it never had been there.

A surge, a burst. Flickering and sparkling. The sudden change swept over. Here and there they rose, the new generation of the village, the next generation of supers. Brought together by their sheer extraordinariness they watched their current lives with new eyes. There was a discussion, or perhaps an argument. Nonetheless the resolution was unanimous. The small village was not for them any more.

So they left, to find their luck and fate in Paragon City. To do what they could.

And the village died out, soon after. No one lives there any more.

And Thus a group was born.


Science

Emergency rooms are hectic places. Lives are at stake and depend on split second decisions. Sometimes those decisions carry a payload and something unforseen takes place. In a city like Paragon City the risks are just that much greater.

People can be in an emergency room for many reasons. Some are brough there without consent, unconscious and bleeding to death. For some there was a sudden chest pain or a tearing headache, a suspicion of worse things to come. Some are there to support, to be there holding a hand. Some wish to lie and bum some drugs. Some, those in whites, they work there.

When a person is mortally wounded there are no questions asked. There is time for them later, when the threat to life has been removed. And therein lies the risk. When Sunburst died his nuclear explosion collapsed the Southern warwalls in Siren's Call, rendering the whole zone uninhabitable for a year. It does not have to be that drastic every time.

Sometimes it is just a few city blocks that get demolished. Sometimes only one. Maybe it is just a building, or if there is luck and good fortune, only a room. Could even be there is no demolition, just an explosion. An explosion that permeates a whole emergency room, striking at each and everyone present.

When that happens, people die. Some do not, though. Some carry children who become altered forever. Those who do die, they leave behind them the circles of mourners. Some who live become altered themselves. The death of a superpowered being can be the birth of many. They are treated, physically and mentally. Some then go on with their mundane lives.

Some, they see the world and their chance to make a difference. If a hero died they may want to honour his passing and carry on the work. If a villain died they may wish to prevent such an event happening again. United by a common turning point they can stand taller than any of them alone.

And thus a group is born.


Magic

The demon lord reveled in its magnificence. This was its sanctum, the heart of power. Yet the power was not enough. Never! It craved more, sought out ways to amass even more minions under its domain.

The stars were right, the cosmical forces entwining enhancing the potency of this rite. On the stone walls of the narrow cave humans were hanging, stripped down to their natural form. Incisions and cuts riddled their bodies and each cut bled a small, sticky red river of life's very essence. Its minions were chanting adding their will to the blood magicks at work.

Dark lightnings struck out from the demon lord, penetrating and piercing each sacrificial sack of tender human flesh strung into inconcievable positions. The lightnings carried pieces of the demon lord itself, to invade the still breathing carcasses, to imbue them with his terrible might. Then the vessels would be ready to tap into the cosmic darkness and draw from there, gain energies that would infuse with the demon lord for all eternity.

Suddenly there was sunlight, forcing the swirling shadows back. From the sun came beings of other kind of power and might. The minions rushed to meet them but were beaten back, beaten down, beaten out. There would be other times, other occasions when the stars were right. It would wait and strike again. The demon lord retreated with the heroes on its heels into the everdarkness that it called home. Leaving behind its vessels that still contained parts of it.

The victims were rescued, treated back to health, counseled and coached to face the normal life again without fear. How could they? They had seen the dark recesses of the universe and knew what lurked in the shadows. Wielding now shards of the demon lord they set out to hunt down those dark beings that preyed on unsuspecting humanity.

And thus a group was born.


Technology

Fate can make strange bedfellows. A given school assignment can bring together the unlikeliest pupils united by nothing more than the will of their teacher. Who knows who they really are, perhaps a bully, a jock, a barbie, a nerd, a geek. Or perhaps a freak. An overachiever. A dropout. A party animal, punk, goth, drug abuser, ****, bigot. Who's to say, maybe they all belong to more than one subgroup. They usually do.

Fate can throw a road trip in the works. A journey of education, a trip to find facts about the given subject. All aboard the crazy car. They bicker and fight, argue about what music is played, if anything. It's too hot, too cold, noisy, restless and all the others are purebred morons. Yet they have to co-operate.

Fate can give wrong directions. The place where they end up is not what it was supposed to be. There are no one to receive them, to tell them tales that they need for their work. The place is old, abandoned, creepy. And enticing. A game of hide and seek? Or two people needing some brief privacy? A terrible need to go and the nearest gas station is miles away? For one reason or the other the place now becomes invaded.

fate can lead. Corridors, rooms, dank pits, dusty corners. Maybe broken glass and spider webs. No one has been in here for a while. And a sudden chance encounter, blind stupid luck, someone steps on something or presses someone and a new room is revealed. It is a room of marvels, technological Pandora's box full of wonders. Gadgets and trinkets, devices and apparatus. And the armours. Power armours that could wreak great havoc, or stand in defense on mankind. The legacy of a hero already passed. Mechatron. Steel Guard. Can'o'tuna. Titaneer. Silver Sentinel. Heroes of times past.

Fate can unite. A common secret, sworn oaths. Not all things are to be shared. Such things can bind even the unlikeliest people together. Perhaps they have a common goal, but more likely each has an agenda of their own. Together for now, situation forcing their hands. Perhaps they will grow to be close, or perhaps inner conflicts will blow them apart. Only time will tell.

Nonetheless, a group is born.

A few entries of 'Journal of A' from 27.-31.1.2007 now in Scrapbook

I think you might get more interest if you had a common origin to be presented. Now it is just an idea. A concrete offer. What would you like?

Yes, the load to brain grew in-Crey-singly harder to endure. That Vazh an experience indeed.