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Preston felt the cold slither of day-old lo mein noodles as they slid down his throat. Despite his chewing the only audible noise from his apartment was a surround sound display.

The 1970s, a decade of war and disco. On tonight’s episode of ‘Behind the Music’ we’re exploring the career of artist and local producer, Tom Marin. From concert tours, to the battlefield, and back to the recording booth; Tom Marin was a man of electrifying fortitude. His famed hit ‘Lightning’ used distortion and feedback in ways artists have struggled to reproduce. Between his dedication to the music industry, and his likeness serving as ammunition for firebrands and political revolutionaries throughout the United States you won’t want to miss this ‘Behind the Music’. I’m Kasey Chang, and we’ll be right back.

The intro was followed by a series of old photos of what must’ve been a younger Tom Marin. Preston recognized the song from one of his favorite 80s action films, Road to Glory. It was one of those ‘so-bad-it’s-good’ kinda films, and there was no way in hell it held up to the tests of time. Nonetheless, it was a good romp.

Tom Marin himself sounded familiar. Preston found himself shamefully googling the artist. Marin seemed to have paved the way for a ton of local artists in the indie scene so Preston was sure he’d seen the name before. Kate would definitely know about this dude. He found himself ready to text her, but hesitated. He let the phone slip from his hands back onto the couch before picking his lo mein back up into his hands.

Not two seconds later did Preston hear the buzzing of his phone alarm. He frantically picked up the device before looking down at the reminder.



Rolling his eyes and letting out some sort of strange combination between a sigh and a fuck Preston forced himself from the couch before lazily tossing the carton of lo-mein onto the table. Some of the noodles inched their way towards the edges as he did so.

Making his way through a small doorway he found his eyes tracing the walls of his room. Pictures, website pages, forum posts, social media accounts. Instead of pictures of friends and some dope-ass tapestry- this was the kind of shit that decorated Preston’s bedroom. He dreaded the thought of someone else seeing all of this. Jesus Christ...that’d be a rough one to explain.

Sighing to himself he made his way over to the desk in his room; its glass surface was tucked away beneath mounds of papers, and a worn red marker. Much like said marker, Preston’s bedroom had a distinctive red color scheme to it. Like most of the house it was a mess with little regard for the items scattered about the floor, and beneath his queen-sized mattress.

He peeled open the lid of his laptop. The light of its monitor revealed worn eyes, and discontent on Preston’s part. Then there was the name plastered on the screen.

Timothy Ross

The url haunted Preston. Megan’s Law. Shit. What exactly was he getting himself into?

Finding you should be easy enough,” Preston muttered to himself. Running the name through the state database came up with a few matches. “Which district was it again.” Preston found himself looking down on his lap, brows furrowed, as he tried to recall information he’d already uncovered. “Right, Concepcion.” After a few clicks at the keyboard the results screen narrowed further.

Six-one,” said Preston to the sound of more clicking. Fewer results, now.

Twice convicted.” Finally, there was just one name beneath the search bar. It taking that many modifiers was particularly harrowing for Preston.

Preston soon found himself exploring a few more tabs. Scrolling through social media, and dating apps was usually the best method of understanding someone’s day-to-day routine. Immersed in the screen before him Preston finally jolted back into reality. He pulled himself away from the monitor before making his way over to the myriad of pictures that dotted the brick and drywall.

Fuck, skin-surfing this dude was a enough to send shivers down Preston’s spine. Would people recognize him? Then again, that’s kind of the point.

Preston flipped through his sketchbook. Its pages were littered with Preston’s drawings of this… Timothy Ross guy. No angle was left unexplored. Preston closed his eyes and sighed before crashing down onto his bed. Velveteen and cotton sheets were his reprieve from this whole mess, but only for a moment.

"Fuckkkkkk, this is so fucked dude.” Preston wanted to scream at this situation, but this gig promised to pay big. Big jobs meant a gateway to even bigger ones. Preston was in this, now.

He could picture Kate and Scoob, now. No pussying out. “No pussying out,” Preston muttered to himself.

As he made his way out into the kitchen he walked past an all-too familiar black cylinder shaped device. A pair of underwear hung from its rim. “Google, play Boy Harsher.

A synthetically feminine voice was his answer. “Playing, Boy Harsher.



Preston made his way to the icebox in his kitchen before aggressively pulling it open. It was time to get to work. The only items lying within the icy tomb were a number of large bags of ice, and one half-empty carton of cookie-dough ice cream. Pushing aside the ice cream the young man pulled out the legion of ice bags.

The next small while consisted of Preston transitioning back and forth between his kitchen and his bathroom until pounds of ice filled his tub. The IV drip hooked up next to the tub rather clumsily had been provided by his mysterious benefactor. Too bad it didn’t come with a nurse or at least an instruction manual. He’d seen his mom do it a few times, but that was only enough to give him an idea of what to do. Luckily Reddit saved the day.

The portable air conditioner was much easier to manage.

Naked now, aside from the ace-bandages wrapped around his body for protection, Preston’s body collided with the freezing ice. Fuck. That was cold. With IV drip attached Preston rested his head on the rim of the tub. The cold euphoria of skin-surfing was enough to tense every muscle in his body before releasing them all at once. Over and over again. His hand gripped the edge of tub. This was going to be trip.

Meanwhile, the bustling of tourists and locals permeating the streets of Oceano Beach clashed with the deafening sounds of contemporary Top 40s hits that blared from the windows of the cars clogging the congested streets. Fuck tourists and fuck the beach too. Luckily for Preston Arroyo neither the sounds of bicycle clicks or annoying chatter from Arlight locals shopping around the pier could be heard over the swelling of something much better than any Top 40 record.



Before Preston could lose himself further in the ambiance of the sheer unadulterated awesomeness that was My Lady in Reverse he heard an all too familiar alert from his phone. Sighing to himself as he heard the music dulling in the background, he reached into the pocket of his jean jacket before retrieving his phone. The sleek build of the device felt weightless in the pocket of his jacket which was nice considering only a tank top hid underneath. A hint of reminiscence crept onto his face, but it was quickly met with contentious thoughts of embarrassment. He really needed to get around to changing Kate's contact name.



Kate's message was a reprieve from the lingering feelings of awkwardness. Letting out a smile Preston pushed passed the few people gathered outside his apartment complex.

Terrace View Gardens was a nice little set-up. Certainly better than what he'd grown accustomed too living on his own. For Preston, Oceano was a new start. The motions he made towards the complex elevator had already become regular, and Preston was in his apartment as quickly as he'd let his mind wonder. Unloading a hodgepodge of headphone wires, books, and bracelets the young man sauntered lazily towards his kitchen, but not before haphazardly throwing his backpack into the small corner he'd taken to relegating it to.

Preston came up empty in the vain attempt to raid his fridge. He instead decided to settle on the leftover Chinese takeout that festered at the dining table. Deeming it warm enough he made his way to his living room. This was an admittedly easy task considering he lived in a studio apartment. The bright white walls of the apartment we hardly hung with any meaningful decorations. Instead, a messy collection of clothing, food, devices, and games dotted the floor. Never before had a room been so empty yet so incredibly filled.

Sighing to himself he found himself quickly reaching for the remote that laid face down on the couch. Just another lonely night in Oceano, it seemed.
@EkretureAlrighty, I can work with that :)
I wasn't sure if powers were a genetic mutation in this world or not, and otherwise I don't really have any idea lol. When it comes to an actual character sheet sure that'd be awesome! I guess my character would probably have at least a limited knowledge of criminal organizations and seedier parts of the city.
@Ekreture
Yeah that makes sense. The idea I was thinking about was a hit-man/mercenary type character that has the ability to shape shift, but it takes quite a few days for the character to modify their body and copy the appearance of said target. Essentially he'd have targets, and would spend quite a bit of time studying them (psychologically, socially, appearance, mannerisms, etc.) then the process of shifting would be quite intricate (wrapping self in bandages, laying in a tub of ice for days, etc.).

The character would be a self-aware narcissistic and depressed person which would typically manifest itself in morbid deprecation and a bit of self-loathing. They know they aren't exactly playing by the right kind of rules, and it bothers them, but they are also vain and numbed to societal expectations.

Probably more info than was needed, but just the idea I was formulating. Not sure if that fits with your vision or not :P
Interested! What kinds of powers are we working with in terms of scale? Are they somewhat close to humans or is there a huge disparity? Also, how do these powers manifest typically in the world?
Barris, surprised by Talis’ information that the Viceroy was murdered, and taking a look at the various individuals in the room with him, was also perplexed that this was the job he was being asked to do. He doubted this was the case, unless the Talons had some prophets in their business, or were tipped off, he doubted they planned for the Viceroy to die and then for them to arrive at the right time to then investigate it.

Lucilia stroked her chin as a man with a beard would if he were in deep thought, wondering what exactly would be the best course of action in this situation. ”It would seem we have many things to investigate. Too many things for a single group of people. We’ll need to split up to cover more ground,” the noblewoman commented turning her head to the window before letting out a sigh. Splitting up was never a good idea, though perhaps she simply read too many books, not that mystery was a genre she cared much about.

The armored woman rose from her seat and looked over the group, "I will investigate the office, the last known location of when Caldwin and Cadby were together.” She turned and began walking towards the door, flourishing her cape as she had turned from the group. ”Anyone who wishes to accompany me may do so."

Pardon the interjection my sweet lady, but you’d likely be best placed on a different duty.” Raux hadn’t taken the time to sat down. She rubbed at her neck with one hand, and even made a small gesture as if she was tugging on a collar. In the other, she held a mug of coffee. Perhaps not the best, but it did help relieve some of the stress. “You’re quite a loud person! Too loud in fact! With an ego of such magnitude to choke a dragon should they take a bite! You’ll not go unnoticed, sweetheart. Likely, with the lack of subtlety you’ll scare away our dear special interest." The brith took a long slurp from her tankard and placed it on a nearby table. "Mmm yesss yes, you’ll better be of service with a minstrel by your side. Perhaps looking for something else that can forward our cause.

Noticing an exchange of glares between the motley crew Talis was quick to intrude. “Before any of you lot go off on your lonesome you’re gonna need this if you want anyone to give you information.” From her satchel Talis pulled out a small pouch. Pulling on the strings of the pouch with one hand the small container danced lazily in the palm of her other. Upon opening the bag the elf retrieved five leather badges. An emblem, taking shape of a golden sparrow, was emblazoned on its front. “These will get you access to a good amount of places in the city, but it might also make others wary of ye. Everyone loves to talk about things they hardly understand.” Talis eyed the group who all seemed to get on as well Orcs and magic. That is to say, not at all. The city elf threw one of the badges towards Lucilia, and placed the rest on the bar beside her. “Just don’t go mucking everythin’ up.

Lucilia caught the badge and gave it a glare before she walked towards the exit of inn. In step with her associate Raux looked down to the Badges with a raised brow and took one for herself. “Right, cuz hoppin and flashin out association with a guild known for some shady practices is within our best interest of longevity and consequences.” The cat sighed as she slipped the badge into a pocket in her coat.

Barris was stupefied still when the Lady Wolfram just walked up and presumed to start walking on to business like it was next logical thing to do. Then again, he was also the one to have not met the others, he supposed, but even also assumed it was the Lady’s arrogant attitude again. He scratched his head and poured over the options in his head. He decided to get the easy move out of the way first.

Well you can count me out for that one, your Ladyship. I wager the killer’s not there, and I already got my fill of stuffed shirts when I was younger, no need for me in the dearly departed Viceroy’s offices.

As if to be contrarian Lucilia ignored the concerns of her allies. Having made up her mind it seemed impossible to stop her. She swiftly pushed out of the tavern giving not a word more on the matter. Barris raised his eyebrows at the Lady’s behaviour, but the Dwarf said nothing and just threw his hands up to lay them back on the table he sat by in exasperation.

Raux brushed off Lucilia's coldness. She looked to Barris with pursed lips. “Oh honey, oh baby! I am a minstrel! I could tell you tales straight up to your death bed if you dare bring such a curse upon yourself!

Meanwhile, Falk eyed the bearded dwarf with a look of surprise. His offhand comments suggested noble, roots, though the dwarf didn’t strike the hunter as one with royal blood. Save for the case of Lady Wolfram, most nobles didn’t go gallivanting about in the service of strange companies; even her reasons were likely dubious. Falk couldn’t help but scoff at the cat’s remark however. The bard’s appearance alone was louder than the clocktower ringing midnight, and the same applied to her boisterous voice. Lady Wolfram certainly had a commanding presence, but in Falk’s experience, this was expected of nobles. Commoners like herself, bard or not, would be walking into a lion’s den as a particularly loud fawn should she try and waltz into the viceroy’s office. After receiving their badges, Wolfram stormed out altogether, leaving the rest still in their seats. Not wanting to be the last one loafing about, Falk took action and said, “I’m going to have a word with the embalmer. You, beardless dwarf. Follow me,” the hunter pointed a gloved hand to Gadria and stood up and strode off, giving a wave without turning back to his companions. The city’s guild was filled with strange wizards and mages, so Falk wouldn’t have too hard of a time blending in, but the company was welcome.

Aria had, as Falk had been doing, been sitting back and observing rather than trying to inject herself into the conversation. The domineering and clashing personalities of the stuck up Lady and the fearless alley cat made this exceptionally easy. She’d even managed to wander off to get a drink unnoticed while the two bickered/flirted and had been casually sipping at a weak cider (she didn’t trust city water) when the masked figure lurched to life and decided she was coming with him to look at a dead body. On the one hand it was very rude, on the other he pushed all of the right buttons to get her curiosity piqued. Feigning disinterest, partially because it was the opposite of what she was really feeling and partially because it was in Gadria’s MO, she responded to Falk with a simple:

“Eh, sure, why not”

Aria casually put down her mug, grabbed one of the badges and wandered out after Falk into the street beyond. She gave a casual wave back at the cat, elf and real dwarf as she left

“catch you all later”

Barris, who had been smirking as he listened to Raux, looked over at Falk and Aria leaving almost as briskly as the Lady, albeit not as impolitely. He gave a mock wave behind them as they went out.

Yea, nice to know yea too, guys. Gods . . ."
There was a pause, Raux’s eyes shifted between the others as they got up to leave, with a sigh she slipped out of her chair and hitched both her longsword and gurdy to her waist before following them. “Though I got an idea. No fact is more straightforward than hearing it straight from the victims themselves.



Lucilia was well on her way towards the Viceroy Estate. While it was still quite early in the day the fogs that lightly draped the morning streets seemed to give way. In the distance it seemed that many of the citizens were already back to work. Noticing this she sought out the pair patrolling guards stationed near the tavern. ”I need you to find a boy named Edwin Myer, he has a pot belly, brown eyes and brown hair. Bring him to the Viceroy’s office should you find him.”

The guards exchanged looks with one another for a moment. For an Earl's daughter without jurisdiction here Lucilia seemed intent on routinely barking out orders. Even still they knew better than to question a noble, and especially one that bore the wolf sigil upon their shield. "Yes, m'Lady," one of the guards spoke up. She needed nothing more for with that she was off to the office. Their names didn't matter nor their previous instructions. She wanted nothing more than find Caldwin or any evidence that pointed her on the right track, and what she wanted was all that mattered. Especially at a time as dire as this.

Back a ways towards the tavern, Falk and Aria found themselves readying to leave for the Academy of Mages.

Raux, was in pursuit. Slowly thinking to herself, the Brithian quickly rushed up to Falk’s side and gave him a tug on the shoulder. “Listen. That fiasco last night got me worried about our dear lordling. The foolish girl is likely gonna get herself in a situation that gets her killed. This might sound like an odd request, but think you can find someone at the mages guild with a ‘talent’ for speaking with the dead? Only way we’re gonna speed things up here.

Falk had almost made his way out the tavern when the Brithian caught up. He quickly jerked away from her touch and spun around to face her, his posture less than friendly. The hunter relaxed after a moment though and heard what she had to say. The academy doesn’t look too favorably on necromancy, but I’m sure I could find some snot-nosed student who dabbles in it, he replied. “Good luck.” With that, Falk and Aria left the near-empty tavern as they parted ways with the brith who seemed determined to catch up with Lucilia.



. . . The only one left in the tavern besides Talis, Barris just watched Raux go last and chuckled while shaking his head, before standing up himself and grabbing his badge, he nodded to the elf.

Nice crew we got here. Consider me on the case of that guard.

Talis was trying her best to conceal her laughter as she leaned on the edge of the bar the shape of a small but sturdy dwarf brushing past her in mild annoyance. Mikael was typically quite diligent with selection his agents, but this crew of "heroes" seemed likely to murder each other before ever finding the murderer of the dear Viceroy. She looked to Mira who gave her a weak shrug in defeat.

The dwarf walked back upstairs towards his room, muttering to himself.

Fuck this, I’m not going running asking about a murder with two pistols and my nightclothes on. Nobody wants to know each other? Fine, but Stone Mother damn me if I’m rushing to potential danger in my linen and not even half a brace.” . . .

As the group made their way down the stairs a small gust of morning air crept in through open windows and cracked doors. The sky, still a haze from the night before, smelled of seaweed and rain. The sounds of birds chirping replaced the usual chirping of the townsfolk and the crackling of carriage wheels against cobblestone. There was an ironic sort of peace about it all. The somber ambiance of a morning after tragedy was isolating in ways that almost felt morbidly comforting.

Talis Cleverfoot sat at the bar with both hands cupped around a mug as she chugged away at her beverage. The thickness of the concoction slithered down her throat with a lump. She looked bitterly at the cup for a few moments before letting loose a small grunt of annoyance. Her eyes met Mira's for an even fewer moments. Hearing her new associates the woman quickly stood from her seat to greet them. Her thin red hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and her ears were adorned with multiple rings near the tips.

She herself had been weary when Mikael insisted on bringing on some help. He was vague, and more elusive than what was usual- even for him. Still, she’d trust his word over most in Astoria. She looked to Mira again, this time giving her a quick smile. The barkeep returned the gesture before taking the city-elf’s cup.

"I'd ask you if you were Talis, but then what would the odds be of two different people having the same exact name and description? . . . Two beautiful city-born elvish sisters I suppose, or a doppelganger. Though I doubt either is the case here."

Aye, you’ll find no doppelgangers here,” Talis answered the dwarf. Her voice was melancholic as if mournful lament laced every word. It carried with it a rhythmic accent that, by most accounts, would be a challenge to distinguish. The intonation hinted at Dalic origins, but her pronunciations and inflective tendencies were clearly reminiscent of an Astorian commoner. “I’m glad you could join us, dwarf; given your proclivity for sleeping through assassinations and the like. Unfortunate for the Viceroy...nasty bit of work it was, too.” Talis gave a small chuckle before running a finger across her throat. A dire playfulness etched about her face. She quickly realized her barb wasn’t met with any coherent response from the dwarf. “Right, well I trust your new associates will inform you of the details.” Talis paused for a moment eyeing the stairwell behind the dwarf. “Speaking of…,”she mused.

As the rest of the group begrudgingly strode down the steps Talis felt uneasy. This group of supposedly reliable employs looked drained, as if Faust had sucked the life from them, and some looked pale and disheveled. “Good morrow, I trust you all enjoyed the festival, assassinations aside?” She gave a smile to the group, but her jovial punches just didn’t seem to be hitting. Shrugging off the groups unpleasant demeanor she pulled from a satchel a map. She motioned for the rest of the group to work their way towards the bar.

“You lot look like hell. Heard at least two of you screaming all night, pleasant that,”

Falk, was right, they looked to be taken by Faust or his ilk. They were screaming in their sleep? What exactly was going on? Was this because of Cadby's death? That didn't make much sense... Pulling herself from her thoughts she concealed the grimace she felt creeping onto her face before continuing.

Here’s a map of our lovely city. You’ll no doubt need it.” Her finger traced the thick papyrus as it trailed towards a visual representation of the docks. “Much of the guild will be down here keeping the peace,” she noted before sighing aloud.

You’ve got a few options, here. Our top priority is finding Lord Caldwin von Gudeiur, the son of Earl Claudius von Gudeiur. He’d been inspecting the Viceroy’s financial ledgers as Earls are want to do. Mikael, and his son, are seeing to that personally.” Giving a dramatic huff Talis pulled from her person a key. “Second on the chopping block...sorry, poor choice of words, that,” the city elf quickly corrected. “Next, is the Viceroy’s office. It might offer up some insight as to what’s happened. Mikael has found it difficult to keep the guard captain’s nose out of things like this in the past. I’d be quick. If the sodded guards get involved we’ll likely never catch the killer in time.

Talis’ hand extended to the middle of the map. “This is the Mercantile District. It’s filled with more merchants than you can shake your arse at. Don’t let that distract you. Evangeline Swiftrend, a big brooding hulk of a woman, has been praying at the Temple of Cristo. She is Caldwin’s royal protector so expect big shiny armor.. also, pointy ears like mine.

Then, you’ve got the guard’s barracks to the east of the marketplace. Cadby’s children have already been informed of their father’s untimely passing. Take it easy on them, ey?” Talis’ eyes peered out at the group before they quickly fell back to the map.

Lastly, to the northwest of the city is the Academy of Magicks. If you speak to the embalmer he might be able to provide you with some details about the body before it’s given final rites.” With that Talis stepped back from the bar she’d been leaning on before looking towards the group. “I’ve no doubt Mikael chose the lot of you because you’re a capable sort. Not entirely sure why you’ve been given all the fun bits, but if he trusts you with this then me bow is with you…” She paused for a moment feigning deep thought. “Well, me crossbow really.”
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