Nosuchthing

Baybridge: Old Ghosts [COMPLETED]

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Alice Barrett

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The petite blonde had been on the other side of town when the storm had erupted, it had been an emergency warning on the news, though she had received a message on her wrist computer before even the journos had. That alone almost guaranteed that it was a metahuman, and considering the scale of the storm it was either another disaster level meta, or another of the mysterious cases of metahuman overload. It had taken her longer than she would have liked to reach the area, and by the time she had it was becoming clear that the immediate danger of the storm was now gone.

She walked past a bus that was on its roof, no natural storm could have done that, not here in Baybridge. Another car was halfway into a storefront, the shop manager would doubtless be unhappy and demand RAVEN or DOVE pay for the damage. The casual observer would have been surprised to see the agent simply disappear mid step, and reappear a hundred feet down the street, as though her legs were at one and the same time both one hundred feet long and normal sized.

There were survivors here, yet apparently no one buried underneath the damaged and scattered vehicles. It looked like some enormous child had grown tired of his toys and simply strewn them about before moving on to the next entertainment. Most of the people she saw looked stunned, white faced, often marred by dust or blood, but alive, for a certain given of alive. They would be in shock. They lived in a world where gods masqueraded in mortal flesh, but never here, never to them. The catastrophe at the mall had been awful, but no one had ever thought they could be caught up in such a disaster themselves.

Metahumans were hard to hate when it was just the girl who lived next door, your child’s best friend, the kindly old man who ran the local grocery store. That reversed when you remembered what they were. The girl next door seemed a lot less innocent when she could turn you inside out, your child’s best friend a danger when they could produce foot long claws from their wrists. The kindly old man who used his telekinesis to reach the high shelves could just as easily use it to hurl knives.

Just witnessing the destruction caused by one metahuman was enough to turn trust to distrust, caution to fear, and even love to hate. Alice didn’t blame them. She terrified herself sometimes, and some metahumans terrified her. The Beast had brought an entire city to its knees, the Devil had threatened an entire planet, and all because of the strange green energy that flowed through them. The name Devil had been appropriate, since then things had only gotten worse, metahuman hate groups were gaining in influence, and there were political factions that believed RAVEN and DOVE needed to be replaced with something harsher.

Sometimes she wondered whether Lucifer himself had risen in that form to wreak destruction upon man. She had faith, but had never been the kind to truly think angels and demons walked among them. She believed that human beings were often guided by her God, but with all the evil things that she was witnessing, and others were suffering… it felt like God was losing.

She needed to find a superior. The rescue effort would have to be co-ordinated, she only hoped they didn’t run into anyone who believed the human race would be better off without metahumans in it…

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Ellen Nile

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The school girl stared at the TV screen in dismay. A clip was replayed of a bus being flipped over. Howling winds were tearing at people’s clothes, and an umbrella was torn past, somehow humorous in a scene that otherwise was complete carnage. The sound of the News Anchor’s voice cut back in over the sounds of destruction.

“More carnage in Baybridge today as a meta-generated storm hurled vehicles and people through the air. Number of casualties is still unknown, as well as the identity at the centre of this terrible tragedy.”

The man somehow contrived to say ‘attack’ while at the same time making no mention of it whatsoever. That’s what people would be thinking. And the news footage was carefully edited, it seemed to show little of the efforts to save people who had been injured, there was no show of the metahumans who had helped, or at least tried to.

Ellen knew the footage had been edited because her laptop was also open on the bed beside her, a very similar video clip was playing, shot from a different angle. The low quality of the footage and the shaking camera suggested it had been taken by a phone. It showed the same bus hurled through the air, then scraping along the ground at speed until it was slowed by two shadowy hands. Then an enormous figure stepped up and halted the onrushing doom.

Metahumans, helping.

The phone on the bed buzzed. Mom.

“Ellen are you ok!?”

“Yeah mom, I’m fine, I was at the Academy.”

“Thank God! I was so worried… I saw the news…

“Mom…”

Ellen rather unsuccessfully attempted to insert a word in edgeways.

“They said lots of people had been hurt… I just didn’t…”

“Mom!”

She resorted to hammering it in with some verbal force.

“I’m ok! I wasn’t anywhere near the storm, anyway, I think they’d need a nuke to get in here anyway.”

Her mother sounded like she was at least calming down a little, “I was so worried about you. You should have tagged yourself as safe, Facebook has already got something for Baybridge.”

“I’m sorry mom, I was gaming, I just found out about it now too, I thought it was just a thunder storm or something.”

This was true, until it had grown worse, and the winds had reached far enough to rattle even her windows. She’d dropped her game and gone to look, then opened up her laptop to have a look at the latest news and…

Another meta losing control? Another Devil? No one seemed to know, and there didn’t seem to have been time for an official DOVE or NEST announcement. Rumour was rife on the internet about what could be happening, but no one seemed to definitively know, at least not yet.

She clicked into her emails, empty. She must have tried to get in touch with Agent Keagan four or five times. Each time she had either received no response, or a simple out of office reply. She’d been ignored.

It took her a moment to cross to the chest of drawers and unearth the vial, it glowed faintly in the dark room. She sat back on the bed and placed it carefully before her, crossing her legs. There had been a small piece of paper with the glass tube, and she clutched it now. The numbers were distorted by the creases of the crumpled phone number. She rubbed her thumb over the digits, then looked towards the one thing that could help.

The metahumans at the centre of everything that had happened over the last few days hadn’t been able to control their abilities, like her. The Academy could deal with her abilities, but she would possibly never be able to leave. She could never have a proper relationship with someone, for fear that she might develop an ability that might kill. And if a lynch mob came for her, or the Pure, she may not even have an ability that she could use to defend herself. It made her feel horribly powerless.

The number in her hand promised power.

There was a brief dialling tone, then a click.

“I’m ready…”

Knights of Melarus

Vyri Underfoot and Karkadin Gatoa

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Written in collaboration with @SepticGentleman

The figure atop the enormous beetle resolved into the tall, lean figure of a Dorak. It took her a moment to recognise the creature's race for a moment. She had seen one or two, but they were few and far between in Port Orarius. it was a little intimidating. Ok, it was very intimidating, but appeared to mean her no harm, which was a relief.

"You alright?" The dorak asked.

Oh good, more stupid questions.

Vyri had not been particularly comforted by the knight's suggestion. The reason she was stuck up here were, after all, the wights that had broken into the house now. She had no desire to make her way back through those corridors now that they might be populated by the undead. The addition of what was apparently a Dorak warrior certainly made the prospect of braving the opulently decorated rooms a more attractive prospect, though she would have preferred if he'd arrived equipped with a ladder.

"I'm fine, but they're in the house and..."

She gestured noncomittally with the stool leg. "It's this or a frying pan, and I'm pretty sure neither were made with monster slaying in mind."

The dorak nodded in reply, turning his head towards the roof edge. "Bad idea to jump back down..." He muttered. He glanced at the rest of the company and called out, "We'll be down in a moment!" Lastly, he turned back to Vyri and said, "I'll get you through the house. Let's go." He turned again, making for one of the manor's decorative windows leading into a very large attic, from the exterior's appearance. He watched his step along the roof's surface, and waved Vyri over.

She followed cautiously, the length of wood clutched between her hands like some sort of holy icon. The Dorak seemed far more confident about facing the creatures, and he was actually properly armed, which was comforting. She fought against her instincts to bow her head deferentially, it was hardly appropriate right now.

"After you."

The dorak nodded, and proceeded to try and open up the window. It was, however, understandably locked. He responded by carefully drawing his spear and hitting the window with its blunt length. Smashed the glass, split the wood, until it was relatively clear. Petty vandalism was nothing over a rescue, it seemed. The dorak ducked his head and stepped inside, with Vyri following behind him, minding the leftover glass.

She stepped carefully over the smashed glass within the window frame, clambering awkwardly through the now newly opened aperture in her dress. It was dark, only a few windows letting light into the storage space, spilling faint splintered beams across the floorboards. There were no wights in here, but she knew they would be just below them. They continued over to the hatch that lead down to the living space below, it was solid, a heavy oaken thing that looked as though it were opened about once a decade. Dust lay thick about it

The dorak knelt down and undid the latch, unfolding the ladder and sending it downward. He turned two of his four eyes towards Vyri and said, "Stay close, I'll handle the... things. Wights." He seemed to forget the creatures' collective name for a moment, before correcting himself. "If you find a better weapon than... that, then you should grab it." And with that, he made his way down the ladder.

She followed tentatively, but his suggestion of finding another weapon did not appeal. She was a servant, not a mage, not a warrior, the only thing she would be able to cut with a real sword would be herself. She was loathe to use the kitchen knives in her pack against the wight's, and she'd rather have something with some weight behind it. Better to smash than daintily stab.

"I wouldn't know how to use one..."

"Better than just your fists." The dorak replied, as he kept his odd-looking spear at the ready, cautiously stepping through the elegant hallway of the manor the duo had descended into. There were sounds, yes, of wights nearby - grinding teeth, creaky bones, and low the faintest, ethereal moans. It was unnerving, but the dorak looked to be holding well against it.

Vyri was evidently holding far less well than the warrior. Her nerves were unsteeled by combat or discipline, and it showed in her face. She was nervous, and she clutched the length of wood with whitening fingers. The faint moans of wights were just barely audible along the corridors, and three shambling figures rounded the corner. They stopped, and their heads slowly turned, fixing the pair with eyeless stares.

Now we see if he has true warrior mettle

She managed to disguise her automatic response as a sudden intake of breath. Hopefully the warrior would have been distracted by the sudden arrival of a threat, one which was advancing rapidly.

Baybridge: Old Ghosts [COMPLETED]

Ok, I've been working on a post now that I'm back but I have work in like half an hour. I'll probably post it tonight :)

Knights of Melarus

I'd definitely be up for a collab :D @SepticGentleman

Knights of Melarus

Sorry I've been away guys, but I'm back and eager to get properly involved :D

Knights of Melarus

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Vyri Underfoot

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Vyri didn’t know what had changed, Eleuril had grown restless, his ever present voice muttering at the back of her skull about fearsome magyks in their vicinity. Considering that he had been muttering something much along the same lines for most of her journey, and that the undead were roaming the streets, she had simply ignored him. Well, as best she could. She could hardly argue with him now could she, it had been easier on the road, but a skinny girl muttering to herself as she wandered along the road may very well have attracted more attention than the undead.

That had changed very rapidly however, It had seemed like a peaceful city, somehow oblivious to the hordes of wights that roamed the streets. Now it had devolved into chaos. Eleuril’s muttering had grown into shouting, and she’d stared around, almost afraid that someone else would be able to hear the ancient sage imprisoned inside her head, and then everything had changed. Some hidden leash was snapped and the wights, once so peaceful and sedate, had changed into awful monsters.

She’d seen a group of guardsmen torn apart, literally ripped into pieces as they were overwhelmed by a wave of the undead that had come pouring down the street. Weapons and armour seemed to be no use against the inexorable advance of the dead, she’d seen one broken into pieces by the sweep of a blacksmith’s hammer, bones tumbling to the ground like children’s toys. The creature had reformed in a matter of seconds and leapt onto the back of its erstwhile slayer.

Right now she was hiding, berated by the sage bound to her.

HIDING! Coward! You think these pathetic creatures could pose a threat to I?

“You’re a Ma’el damned ring. They can’t eat iron but they can eat me!”

Allow me control! I will show these foolish creatures how to fight!

Her voice quavered uncertainly, before resolve filled it once more. She’d allowed him control before, and instead of wearing the ring, it had felt like it had been wearing her. The power that had flowed through her was heady, addictive, and terrifying. He hadn’t even wielded particularly impressive magyks, and already she craved that sensation of control, that the earth, the rivers, the very wind itself would respond to her command. Except it didn’t. It was Eleuril’s command, a fae creature that had lived thousands of years ago. They bickered and fought, and sometimes she even liked the strange consciousness that dwelt at the back of her mind. And then she remembered that was what he was, strange, other. She’d known fae, and Eleuril wasn’t quite like any of them. He certainly wasn’t telling her things, though she likely wouldn’t understand any of it anyway.

There was a scratching at the door, a moaning, as of the wind blowing through the bare branches of a tree in winter, or through fleshless bones…

Her mouth went dry.

I WILL PROTECT YOU STUPID CHILD!

She clutched the stool leg, some effort and application to a wall had broken off the rest of the item of furniture, and she now had a weapon, poor though it may be. Eleuril raged inside her skull, and Vyri climbed out of the window.

The house had belonged to someone wealthy. The opulent furnishings had made that clear, and if they hadn’t, the size and fine construction of the building would have given it away. Either a nobleman, or a particularly successful merchant had lived here, and they had either been caught in the streets by the wights, or had the good sense to leave before the inevitable occurred. She was stood on a tiled, gently sloping roof, currently unoccupied by any save her.

Climbing carefully along the slope of the roof, she reached the edge, and looked down into a street that seemed empty. There was a corpse in it. The girl didn’t seem much older than Vyri, though she was dressed finely. Her dead eyes stared up at the servant. There was a man beside her, tall, and good looking in a well-fed and greying sort of way. Perhaps the former owner of the dwelling had not been so forward thinking.

She pressed her back to the wall. It was too high to drop, and the nearest building was at least ten feet away across the alleyway. She was stuck here, barricading the door had bought her some time, and hiding out here a little more. It seemed that there was no way to go from here though.

I can wait, eventually you will have to give me permission. Have you ever been eaten alive?

“Have you?”

There was an awkward silence. …Well… no…

“Shut up then.”

There was not an exasperated sigh. Eleuril didn’t have any lungs of her own, but she was pretty sure that the silence that followed contained the mental equivalent aimed firmly at her. He would be extremely smug after all this, but even stubbornness and the fear that she would never get her own body back could only hold her back for so long. She really did not want to be eaten alive.

“Fine, you…”

She trailed off as she glanced down the street, there was something coming, something that resolved itself into an enormous beetle, moving steadily along the concourse. Maybe it would help, but surely it couldn't be much worse than the wights? And it looked like someone was riding it. She cut her thoughts off and began waving wildly, running to the edge of the roof.

“Hey! Hey! Over here! Help!”

Baybridge: Old Ghosts [COMPLETED]

<Snipped quote by tsukune>

Yeah, I'm fine with continuing that at any time.

And at the behest of @Maxx, I made a small adjustment at the end of my post. It's really shitty - so it's perfect for Maxx. :^)

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@FernStone@Nosuchthing@Zombiedude101

Anyways, I had an idea for the Academy brats if ya'll are interested.

@Mr Allen J

Sorry, been insanely busy the last couple of days. What is your dastardly plot?

Knights of Melarus

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Vyri

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Vyri was accustomed to impressive architecture, servant she might be, but she had been a servant in the Academy of Sorcery. What had provoked the look of wide-eyed amazement was the fact that she had never been anywhere outside of Port Orarius, let alone Nepharie. Her face had assumed roughly the same expression of slack-jawed awe when she travelled past Capital City. Few of the lower classes travelled, though the wight exodus seemed to be promoting panic in some of the further out areas of the country.

She’d first seen Maceron from afar several hours ago, a faint dot on the horizon that had slowly resolved itself into a mighty city. It had been a long journey, weeks, nearly a month, by foot, and she hadn’t had much to begin with. Mostly she had slept under the stars, wrapping herself in the heavy cloak and huddling before a weakly flickering fire.

Eleuril had complained bitterly all the way. Already she was growing tired of his company, the first few weeks he had bemoaned the capricious hand of fate for depositing him in the body of a mere servant. She’d received a long lecture on his proper place in the world and how it was not bound to the body of one of his inferiors. She had received a slightly adjusted version of the same lecture every day for two weeks. Eventually she’d snapped at him and asked why, if he was so superior, the ring was bound to her then? He’d shut up for a while after that, unable, or unwilling to answer the question.

She’d handed over control of her body once they’d left Port Orarius, though not for long. The Sage, delighting in the freedom of once more having a body, had worn her like a glove. It had been a deeply disquieting experience, and when she had finally regained control she had refused to allow him power since. That had caused a few arguments, which must have been an entertaining enough sight for the wights. She’d avoided inns and stayhouses as best she could, wealthy people were the only ones who could afford rooms these days, and wealthy people included sorcerors. Eleuril had told her they should take little notice of her or the ring. She had still stayed well away. She didn’t want to find out what they might do if they found out what was concealed beneath the cheap leather gloves.

She entered through the massive gates, just one more peasant among the hundreds of other common folk entering and leaving the city. The guards on the gate barely glanced at her, not that they seemed to have much to do right now, they couldn’t stop the wights, no matter how hard they glowered. They mostly seemed resigned to it by now. She had been astonished to find that people were no treating the undead creatures as though they were simply a tourist attraction. There must be thousands of the creatures, you couldn’t walk ten feet without having to avoid one of the murmuring, shambling beings.

I suggest an inn, you do have them in this age don’t you?

The Sage’s sardonic voice had interrupted her train of thought, and she scowled, earning one back from the stall-keeper she had been blankly staring at. She turned awkwardly and walked in the opposite direction, muttering to herself.

“As if we could afford an inn.”

You know I could correct that wrong if you would but-

“No! I’m not letting you, you talked me into coming here, maybe I should just see if there’s any sorcerers here who can get you out of my head.”

And here I was thinking you enjoyed my company.

If Vyri could have glared at herself, she would have done, instead she settled for glaring at the glove that concealed the ring beneath it. Eleuril was quite literally the devil on her shoulder, though he might very well have objected to said epithet.

She wanted to look around Maceron, the city was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before, and though she may have been forced into this adventure she intended to enjoy it as much as she could. She wandered down the street, looking every inch fading unconsciously into the foreground until she was simply another face, just one more of the common folk weaving their way through the undead.

Baybridge: Old Ghosts [COMPLETED]

I'm proooooobably going to drop the Demon arc because I, honestly, have little interest in continuing it. I'll also remove Reform because idk if Septic is still around.

@Mr Allen J

No worries, probably makes things a little less complicated by having less plots per arc :L

Baybridge: Old Ghosts [COMPLETED]

Posted as Alice and Ellen, gonna throw something up for Seraphine later :)