<Snipped quote by webboysurf>
Well, at least Ravenfire have their SOs now.
I hope not; Kory and Rachel are only 16 at the moment.
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I hope not; Kory and Rachel are only 16 at the moment.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
S T A R F I R E / R A V E N
Princess Koriand’r/Rachel Roth ♦ Exiled Princess of Tamaran/Ex-Cultist and current Runaway ♦ Jump City, California, USA ♦ Independent
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Evil beware, for we are here to lick your anuses!"
"....it’s ‘kick,’ not ‘lick,’ we’re here to kick their--.....you know what, never mind, AZARATH METREON ZINTHOS!!!!"
Rachel Roth has been surrounded by the occult since the day she was born. Her mother Arella, a second-generation hippie quick to buy into whatever new-wave feel-good movement could hold her attention, was barely eighteen when she was inducted into the Children of Azaroth, a spiritual-science order who claimed to be connected to astral beings on a higher plane of existence. There, she fell in love with a handsome young man by the name of Sebastian Blood, an eccentric multi-millionaire who seduced her and lured Arella into his mansion in the Hollywood hills. While Arella didn’t remember much of that night, she would have nightmares for years about the man she made love to actually being a hulking giant with eyes of fire.
Arella’s daughter Rachel was disillusioned with the Children of Azaroth almost immediately, especially while watching her mother’s mental health deteriorate. Despite this, she found herself enamored with occult literature and history, perhaps determined to find the ‘real’ magic that the amateurish cult had so clearly failed to produce. Mature before her age, she developed an ever-present cynicism and biting sarcasm, as well as nearly impenetrable emotional walls to resist the Children’s conditioning.
On her sixteenth birthday, Rachel received the greatest surprise of her life-- and nearly her last as well. Her supposed father Sebastian Blood had returned to the compound, showering her with gifts and throwing a magnificent party, before attempting to drug and murder the young girl in a ritualistic sacrifice. Much to the surprise of everyone in the room, a pitch-black shadow erupted from Rachel’s body and hurled the cultists aside like ragdolls. Confused and terrified, yet seeing the opportunity to escape, Rachel fled the cult for good. After hitchhiking north, she found her way to Jump City, where she currently works as an assistant at an old book store, half her meager wages paying for the dingy loft apartment above the shop.
Several million light years away, the lush and vibrant world of Tamaran had enjoyed sixteen cycles of prosperity and happiness under the rule of the just and mighty King Myand’r. His twin daughters were beloved by the common people, though the cheerful and bright Koriand’r was favored ever so slightly more than her sister Komand’r. This slight favoritism, barely perceptible to those not paying close attention, would eat at Komand’r all her life, a jealousy that would become a deadly resentment over the years. This was only made worse due to the fact that only one of them could inherit the role of the planet’s protector and champion, the Starfire.
This would come to a head when, during a training exercise with the legendary Warlords of Okaara, Komand’r staged an “accident” with the intent of killing Kory, but instead killed her betrothed, the beloved General Phy’zzon. Thinking quickly, Komand’r was able to cover her own crime as a failed assassination attempt by Tamaran’s eternal enemies, the dreaded Citadel. King Myand’r responded to this by declaring open war upon the Citadel, and the years of prosperity and joy gave way to terror and bloodshed.
Koriand’r inherited the role of Starfire after their father was slain fighting the Citadel’s shock troopers, and with the help of the Warlords of Okaara, led her people on multiple successful campaigns, much to Komand’r’s disdain. Just as Tamaran was on the cusp of victory, Komand’r stunned her people by betraying them, siding with the Citadel during a key battle for the sake of facing her hated sister in combat. Koriand’r held the upper hand in their battle, but could not bring herself to kill her own sister, a mercy that Komand’r exploited ruthlessly to defeat her. With Tamaran conquered and her sister in chains, Komand’r declared herself Queen Blackfire, a mockery of the title she had coveted for so long.
Koriand’r’s captivity would not last, however, as she soon fought her way free and stole away in a single-use jump pod as Citadel troops bore down on her. Desperate for somewhere safe, the ship’s navicomputer located a primitive backwater planet, whose inhabitants happen to look similar to Tamaranians by an absolutely staggering coincidence, and jumped away.
The power in Jump City has gone out. Rachel Roth has climbed up to the roof of her ratty apartment to see if she can read by moonlight. And what was a pinpoint of light in the night sky seems to be getting larger, and brighter, and closer…...
Arella’s daughter Rachel was disillusioned with the Children of Azaroth almost immediately, especially while watching her mother’s mental health deteriorate. Despite this, she found herself enamored with occult literature and history, perhaps determined to find the ‘real’ magic that the amateurish cult had so clearly failed to produce. Mature before her age, she developed an ever-present cynicism and biting sarcasm, as well as nearly impenetrable emotional walls to resist the Children’s conditioning.
On her sixteenth birthday, Rachel received the greatest surprise of her life-- and nearly her last as well. Her supposed father Sebastian Blood had returned to the compound, showering her with gifts and throwing a magnificent party, before attempting to drug and murder the young girl in a ritualistic sacrifice. Much to the surprise of everyone in the room, a pitch-black shadow erupted from Rachel’s body and hurled the cultists aside like ragdolls. Confused and terrified, yet seeing the opportunity to escape, Rachel fled the cult for good. After hitchhiking north, she found her way to Jump City, where she currently works as an assistant at an old book store, half her meager wages paying for the dingy loft apartment above the shop.
Several million light years away, the lush and vibrant world of Tamaran had enjoyed sixteen cycles of prosperity and happiness under the rule of the just and mighty King Myand’r. His twin daughters were beloved by the common people, though the cheerful and bright Koriand’r was favored ever so slightly more than her sister Komand’r. This slight favoritism, barely perceptible to those not paying close attention, would eat at Komand’r all her life, a jealousy that would become a deadly resentment over the years. This was only made worse due to the fact that only one of them could inherit the role of the planet’s protector and champion, the Starfire.
This would come to a head when, during a training exercise with the legendary Warlords of Okaara, Komand’r staged an “accident” with the intent of killing Kory, but instead killed her betrothed, the beloved General Phy’zzon. Thinking quickly, Komand’r was able to cover her own crime as a failed assassination attempt by Tamaran’s eternal enemies, the dreaded Citadel. King Myand’r responded to this by declaring open war upon the Citadel, and the years of prosperity and joy gave way to terror and bloodshed.
Koriand’r inherited the role of Starfire after their father was slain fighting the Citadel’s shock troopers, and with the help of the Warlords of Okaara, led her people on multiple successful campaigns, much to Komand’r’s disdain. Just as Tamaran was on the cusp of victory, Komand’r stunned her people by betraying them, siding with the Citadel during a key battle for the sake of facing her hated sister in combat. Koriand’r held the upper hand in their battle, but could not bring herself to kill her own sister, a mercy that Komand’r exploited ruthlessly to defeat her. With Tamaran conquered and her sister in chains, Komand’r declared herself Queen Blackfire, a mockery of the title she had coveted for so long.
Koriand’r’s captivity would not last, however, as she soon fought her way free and stole away in a single-use jump pod as Citadel troops bore down on her. Desperate for somewhere safe, the ship’s navicomputer located a primitive backwater planet, whose inhabitants happen to look similar to Tamaranians by an absolutely staggering coincidence, and jumped away.
The power in Jump City has gone out. Rachel Roth has climbed up to the roof of her ratty apartment to see if she can read by moonlight. And what was a pinpoint of light in the night sky seems to be getting larger, and brighter, and closer…...
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
Raven and Starfire is a pairing that I firmly believe is one of DC’s biggest untapped gold mines. While they love playing up the whole “one’s bright and happy, the other is dark and dour” routine with Batman and Superman, and even went so far as to rewrite Poison Ivy’s entire personality just to do it again in the Harley Quinn cartoon, they have yet to do it with what IMO is one of the most obvious duos, from a cartoon that basically everyone loves.
While their origin stories do border on being Very Serious (™), I want Kory and Rachel to effectively be a superhero equivalent of a buddy-cop-movie or an Odd Couple sitcom. Just, instead of a by-the-book veteran and a loose-cannon rookie, or an uptight businessman and his slovenly roommate, it’s a bubbly alien space-princess and the literal actual Anti-christ. Lethal Weapon with space battles and spandex, Rush Hour with demons and teen-drama, or maybe Perfect Strangers with explosions and doomsday cults. It’s something I have wanted to write for ages, but always put off for the sake of chasing a bigger fish.
While their origin stories do border on being Very Serious (™), I want Kory and Rachel to effectively be a superhero equivalent of a buddy-cop-movie or an Odd Couple sitcom. Just, instead of a by-the-book veteran and a loose-cannon rookie, or an uptight businessman and his slovenly roommate, it’s a bubbly alien space-princess and the literal actual Anti-christ. Lethal Weapon with space battles and spandex, Rush Hour with demons and teen-drama, or maybe Perfect Strangers with explosions and doomsday cults. It’s something I have wanted to write for ages, but always put off for the sake of chasing a bigger fish.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
S A M P L E P O S T:
"So, that's two hardbacks, three paperbacks, and a first edition," Rachel recounted in a disinterested monotone as the customer waited impatiently for her to punch everything into the cash register. "After tax, that comes out to fifty-two dollars and seventy-three cents."
The customer made a face, and attempted to haggle. "You sure that thing didn't make a mistake? Like, a glitch in the programming?"
Rachel gave him a deadpan glare, glanced down at the old analog register for a moment, then said, "You're right, sir, this completely non-digital machine must have had a hiccup in the software. If you'll give me a moment, I can call tech support and--"
"No, no, it's.....here you go," he said, producing three crumpled twenties from his wallet. "Y'know, learning a little customer service couldn't hurt."
"I provide the exact quality of service appropriate to the customer," she said, handing him his change. "Have a day."
Working at the House of Mystery, a gaudy title for what was in fact a dusty hole-in-the-wall bookstore, was far from the worst experience Rachel Roth could ask for. The walls were packed with old tomes and albums full of all sorts of interesting subjects: histories of long-lost civilizations, macabre biographies of infamous figures of folklore, encyclopedic catalogs of spirits and daemons, texts of everything from ancient Sumerian divination to the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, to folk religions like voodoo and santeria, to new-age paganism and chaos magic, even parlor tricks like sleight-of-hand and cold reading. Mr. Abel was a nice enough manager, though he was rarely around and left Rachel to tend the store by herself more often than not. Fine by her; more opportunities to get some reading in. The only problem was with the customers.
And of course, her new roommate.
"Friend Rachel," Kory said, drifting down the staircase, oblivious to the fact that she was floating nearly a foot off the ground and would have caused a panic if anyone else had seen it, "I am having the difficulty interfacing with this data-storage device."
Rachel glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You mean that book?"
"Yes, this 'boook,'" she replied, mispronouncing the 'oo' sound. "While I see the data runes inscribed, I cannot activate them to call upon its internal AI construct and begin the holo-feed."
Rachel blinked in confusion, then shook her head.
"Internal AI--? No, Kory, you just," Rachel took the book out of Kory's hands and opened it. "You just read the 'data runes,' and that's how you get the information. There's no holograms or AI or anything."
"....but this is an account of romantic interest," Kory said, confused. "Without a holo-feed, how will I see the techniques employed?"
"Just....use your imagination. Your mind will picture everything for you."
Kory gave uncertain glances back and forth between Rachel and the book.
"...so I am to stare at symbols on a slice of dead vegetable matter," she tried to put the pieces together, "until I begin to hallucinate images and sounds? And that is how information is shared on this world?"
"....well, when you put it like that--"
"That is wonderous!" Kory exclaimed. "Voluntary hallucinogens without chemical stimulation? Never have I heard of such a thing! But what, then, are the side effects of exposure to the booooks?"
"....you get smarter?"
Kory's eyes went wide, like the first time she had ever seen a star going nova.
Before this could continue, outside the store, a siren blared, an engine roaring as a large red shape blurred past the shop window.
"What was the purpose of the noise-making vehicle?"
"Huh? Oh, that's a fire engine," Rachel shrugged. "They're just on their way to put out a fire somewhere down the block."
"A fire?!" Kory gasped. "Then the innocents are imperiled! We must be quick to act!"
Dropping the book, Kory stripped off her shirt and began undoing her pants.
"Kory! What are you doing?!
"I am exchanging my civilian garb for my proper battle regalia," she answered, a purple tube-top and skirt appearing over her body like magic. "How else will the innocents know that a champion protector is here to assist them?" With a gasp of realization, Kory grabbed at the tail of Rachel's shirt. "Quickly, you must change into your battle regalia as well!"
Rachel sputtered, and swatted Kory's hands away. "Hey, that's--knock it off, I don't have 'battle regalia!'"
Kory stopped, staring at Rachel as though she had said she eats rocks.
"That is not acceptable," Kory shook her head, then grabbed Rachel by the wrist. "Come, we will assist with the fighting of fires, and then we shall locate a member of your merchant caste who can procure proper regalia for you! There is little of the time to be wasting!"
The customer made a face, and attempted to haggle. "You sure that thing didn't make a mistake? Like, a glitch in the programming?"
Rachel gave him a deadpan glare, glanced down at the old analog register for a moment, then said, "You're right, sir, this completely non-digital machine must have had a hiccup in the software. If you'll give me a moment, I can call tech support and--"
"No, no, it's.....here you go," he said, producing three crumpled twenties from his wallet. "Y'know, learning a little customer service couldn't hurt."
"I provide the exact quality of service appropriate to the customer," she said, handing him his change. "Have a day."
Working at the House of Mystery, a gaudy title for what was in fact a dusty hole-in-the-wall bookstore, was far from the worst experience Rachel Roth could ask for. The walls were packed with old tomes and albums full of all sorts of interesting subjects: histories of long-lost civilizations, macabre biographies of infamous figures of folklore, encyclopedic catalogs of spirits and daemons, texts of everything from ancient Sumerian divination to the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, to folk religions like voodoo and santeria, to new-age paganism and chaos magic, even parlor tricks like sleight-of-hand and cold reading. Mr. Abel was a nice enough manager, though he was rarely around and left Rachel to tend the store by herself more often than not. Fine by her; more opportunities to get some reading in. The only problem was with the customers.
And of course, her new roommate.
"Friend Rachel," Kory said, drifting down the staircase, oblivious to the fact that she was floating nearly a foot off the ground and would have caused a panic if anyone else had seen it, "I am having the difficulty interfacing with this data-storage device."
Rachel glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You mean that book?"
"Yes, this 'boook,'" she replied, mispronouncing the 'oo' sound. "While I see the data runes inscribed, I cannot activate them to call upon its internal AI construct and begin the holo-feed."
Rachel blinked in confusion, then shook her head.
"Internal AI--? No, Kory, you just," Rachel took the book out of Kory's hands and opened it. "You just read the 'data runes,' and that's how you get the information. There's no holograms or AI or anything."
"....but this is an account of romantic interest," Kory said, confused. "Without a holo-feed, how will I see the techniques employed?"
"Just....use your imagination. Your mind will picture everything for you."
Kory gave uncertain glances back and forth between Rachel and the book.
"...so I am to stare at symbols on a slice of dead vegetable matter," she tried to put the pieces together, "until I begin to hallucinate images and sounds? And that is how information is shared on this world?"
"....well, when you put it like that--"
"That is wonderous!" Kory exclaimed. "Voluntary hallucinogens without chemical stimulation? Never have I heard of such a thing! But what, then, are the side effects of exposure to the booooks?"
"....you get smarter?"
Kory's eyes went wide, like the first time she had ever seen a star going nova.
Before this could continue, outside the store, a siren blared, an engine roaring as a large red shape blurred past the shop window.
"What was the purpose of the noise-making vehicle?"
"Huh? Oh, that's a fire engine," Rachel shrugged. "They're just on their way to put out a fire somewhere down the block."
"A fire?!" Kory gasped. "Then the innocents are imperiled! We must be quick to act!"
Dropping the book, Kory stripped off her shirt and began undoing her pants.
"Kory! What are you doing?!
"I am exchanging my civilian garb for my proper battle regalia," she answered, a purple tube-top and skirt appearing over her body like magic. "How else will the innocents know that a champion protector is here to assist them?" With a gasp of realization, Kory grabbed at the tail of Rachel's shirt. "Quickly, you must change into your battle regalia as well!"
Rachel sputtered, and swatted Kory's hands away. "Hey, that's--knock it off, I don't have 'battle regalia!'"
Kory stopped, staring at Rachel as though she had said she eats rocks.
"That is not acceptable," Kory shook her head, then grabbed Rachel by the wrist. "Come, we will assist with the fighting of fires, and then we shall locate a member of your merchant caste who can procure proper regalia for you! There is little of the time to be wasting!"
P O S T C A T A L O G:
A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.
<Snipped quote by AndyC>
Is it too late to swap Zatanna for Raven to fuck with you?
Okay, so after some hemming and hawing, I'm honestly pretty content with conceding Diana to BlackSam. For starters, he's got a great take. Secondly, while I do like my take on Wondy, it's something I basically came up with because I was salty about not getting Superman, not something that I genuinely care about, and Sam seems to have more personal investment in his. And I dunno, if I did get it, I'd feel kinda shitty for denying him something he clearly cares about. And to top if off, again, he's got a great take.
That's the bad news.
The good news is, I've begun work on Plan C.....
That's the bad news.
The good news is, I've begun work on Plan C.....
Sample post is complete, CS is now formally ready for judgment.
Added some new notes to the Wonder Woman app, detailing her supporting cast and the threats she'll be facing initially. Sample post will be up some time later tonight.
There is no content in the Aquaman sheet outside of a picture of Aquaman.
That's what makes it so brilliant-- its genius is its simplicity.
@Hillan Favouritism.
I have absolutely no room to talk, considering my Plan A was "waltz in and rely on being buddy-buddy with MB to be handed the cape." Stupid GMs and their stupid integrity.
Well, shit.
Plan B it is, then.
More to come as the plot develops.
Plan B it is, then.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
W O N D E R W O M A N
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W O N D E R W O M A N
Diana Prince ♦ Antiquities Dealer ♦ Gateway City, California, United States ♦ Independent
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Tell your gods they need to try harder."
The world of mortal men is not the only world there is. Beyond the veil, beyond the realms of matter and energy and immutable laws of physics, there is one which shapes and is shaped by the dreams and beliefs of mortals. It does not exist, yet it always has and always will. It is a million contradictory heavens and hells all at once, each one a ridiculous myth or superstition, yet also an unquestionable truth. It is the Godsphere, the realm of every High Father, every Dark Lord, every Earth-Mother and Warbringer that ever has or ever will be imagined.
For millennia, the Godsphere and the Mortal World have been separate, as man’s stronger understanding of his own domain has weakened the need for gods or magic, the man-made light of science driving the monsters and devils into the aether. And as for those monsters who are not content to slink away into the shadowy realm of bad dreams and forgotten legend, well…...that is where I come in.
In the world between worlds, there are all manner of entities that are more than man, but less than god. In Greek, they were called daimon-- an term which evolved over centuries into the later ‘daemon’ and modern ‘demon,’ but originally meant any spirit or monster, angel or devil, giant or demigod regardless of their morality. These daimon are at least partly of the mortal world, and were not banished as easily as the Gods by the discovery of fire or the development of philosophy. Many are the sustained form of old magic, curses that live on over hundreds or thousands of years. Many contain the blood of old gods, direct descendants of Olympus or Asgard or Sheol. As the power of the Godsphere diminishes in the Mortal World, the remaining daimon have learned to live in secret, only revealing themselves to each other, before fighting to the death for a relic or temple or other scrap of godly power.
Once, the Amazons of Themyscira -- a people who now never existed, on an island that can never be found-- acted as protectors of mortal men from hostile daimon. They slew monsters, dueled with devils, cast out ghosts and spurned evil gods. As they faded from the world, they chose to entrust their knowledge and power into a single warrior, until the time came when the rift between the Mortal World and the Godsphere could be healed. A grand tournament was held, sister fighting sister, until much to everyone’s surprise, the victor emerged: the Queen’s frail, sickly daughter.
I was only twelve when my mother placed the tiara on my head, adorned me with the finest armor and weapons the Amazons had ever made, and vanished into myth. I knew one day, I would see them again, when gods and men could once again share a world in harmony. It would not be easy, it would not be a short journey. At the time, I expected it to take ten, perhaps twenty years. Certainly not more than twenty-five.
It has been nearly three thousand.
And yet, I continue. I preserve what knowledge of the Gods that I can, protect the daimon who mean no harm, and put down those who do. The Mortal World has changed so much, but my quest has not. I am Diana, last Champion of the Amazons. And I am a protector of worlds.
For millennia, the Godsphere and the Mortal World have been separate, as man’s stronger understanding of his own domain has weakened the need for gods or magic, the man-made light of science driving the monsters and devils into the aether. And as for those monsters who are not content to slink away into the shadowy realm of bad dreams and forgotten legend, well…...that is where I come in.
In the world between worlds, there are all manner of entities that are more than man, but less than god. In Greek, they were called daimon-- an term which evolved over centuries into the later ‘daemon’ and modern ‘demon,’ but originally meant any spirit or monster, angel or devil, giant or demigod regardless of their morality. These daimon are at least partly of the mortal world, and were not banished as easily as the Gods by the discovery of fire or the development of philosophy. Many are the sustained form of old magic, curses that live on over hundreds or thousands of years. Many contain the blood of old gods, direct descendants of Olympus or Asgard or Sheol. As the power of the Godsphere diminishes in the Mortal World, the remaining daimon have learned to live in secret, only revealing themselves to each other, before fighting to the death for a relic or temple or other scrap of godly power.
Once, the Amazons of Themyscira -- a people who now never existed, on an island that can never be found-- acted as protectors of mortal men from hostile daimon. They slew monsters, dueled with devils, cast out ghosts and spurned evil gods. As they faded from the world, they chose to entrust their knowledge and power into a single warrior, until the time came when the rift between the Mortal World and the Godsphere could be healed. A grand tournament was held, sister fighting sister, until much to everyone’s surprise, the victor emerged: the Queen’s frail, sickly daughter.
I was only twelve when my mother placed the tiara on my head, adorned me with the finest armor and weapons the Amazons had ever made, and vanished into myth. I knew one day, I would see them again, when gods and men could once again share a world in harmony. It would not be easy, it would not be a short journey. At the time, I expected it to take ten, perhaps twenty years. Certainly not more than twenty-five.
It has been nearly three thousand.
And yet, I continue. I preserve what knowledge of the Gods that I can, protect the daimon who mean no harm, and put down those who do. The Mortal World has changed so much, but my quest has not. I am Diana, last Champion of the Amazons. And I am a protector of worlds.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
I’ve played different versions of Diana in the past, and while I enjoyed them, I never really felt like I got her ‘right,’ which is something I’m determined to do this time. I want to capture the spirit of an adventurous, mythical heroine embarking on globe-trotting adventures, dueling with other immortals over ancient relics, like a cross between Indiana Jones and Highlander, with a dash or two of Samurai Jack. I feel like this particular take can be as close to a “definitive” Wonder Woman as I can get without just photocopying the movie.
This version would also allow her to expand Diana’s usually lackluster rogue’s gallery beyond merely the Greek pantheon. Sure, she’ll fight Medusas and Harpies and Minotaurs and stuff, but she can also take on spirits and monsters from all over the world, and have fights and long-standing histories with other supernatural/mythical characters, like Black Adam or Shining Knight.
This version would also allow her to expand Diana’s usually lackluster rogue’s gallery beyond merely the Greek pantheon. Sure, she’ll fight Medusas and Harpies and Minotaurs and stuff, but she can also take on spirits and monsters from all over the world, and have fights and long-standing histories with other supernatural/mythical characters, like Black Adam or Shining Knight.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
More to come as the plot develops.
S A M P L E P O S T:
"I'm offering you one chance," I call out into the dark. "You can leave this place, now, and vow to never prey on the innocent again, and I will show mercy. I offer this chance only once."
The trees rustle with motion, before mad cackling laughter fills the air.
"Foolish girl," a raspy voice hisses from the shadows. "We will not be denied our prey tonight. We will slake our thirst. This one's blood belongs to us."
The UN ambassador cowering behind me is one of the most influential forces behind the upcoming Pan-Asian Trade Agreement, responsible for opening up several blocks of the continent to hundreds of billions of dollars in business opportunities over the next ten years. He is also turning white with fear, letting out a terrified yelp as he nearly trips over the drained corpse of one of his bodyguards.
"M-m-m-my blood?" he stammers, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his chin to cover his neck. "Wh-what are they? Vampires?!"
I glance to him over my shoulder and scoff.
"Unlikely," I tell him, "I killed the last of the Romainian Stigoi nearly a century and a half ago." I had thanked and paid Mr. Stoker handsomely to discreetly edit my part in events out of his novel.
The trees rustle again. The sound of chittering laughter, the hungry smacking of lips.
"I believe we are dealing with a kind of yokai," I tell him as I draw my sword, the leaf-shaped blade of the Amazonian xyphos glittering in near total darkness as if it were broad daylight. "Specifically, a flock of nukekubi. Keep your head down-- this may be....unpleasant. Especially if I cannot find the bodies quickly."
"Give us our prey, foolish girl!" the yokai demands. "You do not know the kind of monsters you face this night."
I cannot help but smirk. Every creature I have ever encountered believes they are the supreme terror of the world, right until the moment they are cut down.
There is a shriek, a snarl, and the flapping of wings-- or rather, the flapping of ears-- as a dozen flying severed heads erupt from the trees, each of them baring a mouth full of jagged pointed fangs, long slavering tongues, and eyes full of burning hate.
"And you," I tell them as I sink into a fighting stance, sword and shield at the ready, "Do not know the kind of things I do to monsters like you."
The trees rustle with motion, before mad cackling laughter fills the air.
"Foolish girl," a raspy voice hisses from the shadows. "We will not be denied our prey tonight. We will slake our thirst. This one's blood belongs to us."
The UN ambassador cowering behind me is one of the most influential forces behind the upcoming Pan-Asian Trade Agreement, responsible for opening up several blocks of the continent to hundreds of billions of dollars in business opportunities over the next ten years. He is also turning white with fear, letting out a terrified yelp as he nearly trips over the drained corpse of one of his bodyguards.
"M-m-m-my blood?" he stammers, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his chin to cover his neck. "Wh-what are they? Vampires?!"
I glance to him over my shoulder and scoff.
"Unlikely," I tell him, "I killed the last of the Romainian Stigoi nearly a century and a half ago." I had thanked and paid Mr. Stoker handsomely to discreetly edit my part in events out of his novel.
The trees rustle again. The sound of chittering laughter, the hungry smacking of lips.
"I believe we are dealing with a kind of yokai," I tell him as I draw my sword, the leaf-shaped blade of the Amazonian xyphos glittering in near total darkness as if it were broad daylight. "Specifically, a flock of nukekubi. Keep your head down-- this may be....unpleasant. Especially if I cannot find the bodies quickly."
"Give us our prey, foolish girl!" the yokai demands. "You do not know the kind of monsters you face this night."
I cannot help but smirk. Every creature I have ever encountered believes they are the supreme terror of the world, right until the moment they are cut down.
There is a shriek, a snarl, and the flapping of wings-- or rather, the flapping of ears-- as a dozen flying severed heads erupt from the trees, each of them baring a mouth full of jagged pointed fangs, long slavering tongues, and eyes full of burning hate.
"And you," I tell them as I sink into a fighting stance, sword and shield at the ready, "Do not know the kind of things I do to monsters like you."
P O S T C A T A L O G:
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