Avatar of OnlyThePie
  • Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 342 (0.10 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. OnlyThePie 9 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

You're all welcome to begin as well now.
Heirn thought about how far he had come in just a few short weeks. He had been a blacksmith's son, working the forge in his little village in the north. Then the dragon had come. The town had flown into a panic. Old Trentalla had thrown a fit, claiming it was the end times. But then the dragon had calmly landed just outside the village, and a man had marched into the town, straight up to his father's forge. He had stated his purpose as a Dragon Rider, and demanded Heirn come with him. His father had nodded slowly, though his mother had thrown a fit. Heirn and his father had sorted it all out by the end. Everyone knew the legend of the Dragon Riders. The man had taken him onto the great red creature of legend, and they had flown. Really flown. It had been absolutely amazing.

He had been taken to this fort in the mountains. They had made him jump the 7 or 8 feet from the dragon's back to the roof, since it couldn't land. It had been exciting. They had marched him directly up a large stone staircase to the top of a mountain, where an egg sat waiting for him. He had gazed at it, curious. He felt some need to sit and watch the egg. When it cracked, he had started and scrambled backward. The deep blue creature that came out was not what he expected. He had been imagining a full grown dragon, bursting forth from the egg, which was crazy. This little creature was almost cute. It had spoken, though in his head, not into the air. It had told him it's name was Hrox, and it had chosen him to be his rider. Heirn was enamored with the creature. After a while, one of the adult riders had come and they returned to the fort, leaving Hrox in peace.

Heirn had been the first, but the other two had followed, experiencing similar things. They had not been given much time to interact, as they were mostly kept apart, though for what reason Heirn had been unable to discern. It had been quite boring, mostly confining him to his room. There were books to read and maps to look at though. Finally, early one morning, they had come for him, and given him the crimson robes he now wore. They had led him through tunnels and hallways into the fort, meeting up with the other two, until the three were brought to this tower. The etchings had fascinated him, though he had been quickly distracted by the massive dragons in the air behind the tower, and then again by the three people sitting in front of them at the odd stone table. They had sat, and then waited in silence for something to happen.

Heirn started slightly as the figure in the center spoke. It sounded like a woman, which surprised him somewhat. She said to present himself to the council. He waited for one of the others to stand. They both sat to his right. He could tell at least one was a girl, long blonde hair hanging out of her hood. Finally, he rose, figuring if nobody else was going to he might as well.

"I am Heirnisch Vaulenfold of the village of Daneskold, in the far north. I don't know why I was chosen, but I will try to fulfill my expectations. The dragon that chose me has named itself Hrox." He sat down awkwardly, unsure if he had said the right thing. At least he had said something.
Okay, thank you for clearing it up.
First IC post is live!


The Conduit



Jim Evanston paced his office thoughtfully, small sparks arcing through the air. It wasn't his official office at Evanston Metal Recycling. Nor was it his backup office at The Hatchery. This was his office, 200 feet underground, walls of solid cement, and somehow managing to be both luxuriant and utilitarian at the same time. The foot thick steel door was covered to look like handsome oak wood, and the walls painted a serene white.

The massive oak desk dominated the room, Jim's favorite throne-like iron desk chair stationed firmly behind it. Bookshelves towered on either side, backed to the walls. A painting of some famous imperial ruler or another backed the wall behind his desk. It changed on a regular basis. Today it was Otto Von Bismarck. Various other trophies and fancy objects sat on pedestals or displays around the room. A pottery fragment sat quietly in the back, alone on a bland wooden pillar. But the most eye catching thing in the room was the man pacing it. A handsome, sharp, face, short black hair, a rather unnerving trench coat and boots. But the electrical sparks were what gave him his emphasis.

Jim was concerned. He wasn't worried yet, but he was concerned. One of the gangs bordering his territory had recently undergone a total re-haul. The slimy old bastard in charge had been murdered, and a young woman had taken his place. The human trafficking in the district had dropped dramatically, but now he had to worry about theft. He didn't have much that would greatly concern him if it was stolen, but he'd prefer to keep everything where it was. There were also repeated reports of standalone superhumans making a mess across the city, and he wouldn't stand for unorganized mess-making.

A rushed knock pounded against his door. "Come in," he shouted, in order to be heard through the door, slightly annoyed he was being interrupted. His 3rd in command, Thomas Constantine, stepped into the room, the door slamming behind him. Constantine was a thin man, with a thick brown beard to match his deep eyes. He was Canadian, but spoke like the American he had become. Constantine had an ability, a rather weak one, but he was able to break any lock, mechanical, electrical, or even password. This made him a remarkable asset for gathering money, and Constantine owed Jim his live anyway.

Constantine spoke quickly, obviously upset. "Sir, it's Sabre, his guys are getting raided, and he's out of commission to stop them." Jim swore. The Sabre was one of his arms dealers, the man didn't have an ability, he just liked the nickname. If Sabre got taken down, he'd lose an important connection. He had no idea if the gang that replaced Sabre would respect the authority of the Conduit.

"I'll deal with it." Jim said, walking out the doorway. Constantine rushed after him.

"You, sir? Shouldn't we just dispatch Henson and his boys?" Constantine asked, nervously. "You could be hurt."

Jim laughed. "Henson is too lighthanded for this. I'll deal with it. I'll be fine Constantine." Jim pushed the button to shut the elevator doors, Constantine's protests drowned out by the shutting iron plates. Constantine was a good friend, but he worried too much. Jim cracked his knuckles. He'd solve the problem.

+++++

Industrial District, Northwest
Jim stepped out of the car. The old black jeep had served him well as an undercover car. If he had taken the Mustang, he would've stood out much more. He stepped over to the electrical transformer he had intentionally stopped by. Running electrical energy to force his muscles to react, he tore the metal cover off of the box. He rubbed his arm. That always hurt a bit. He grabbed the two massive cable lines running through the box and flexed his "muscle" for lack of a better term. The box hummed and sparked as he absorbed the energy running through it. The lights on the block went out. He grinned.

As Jim stepped into the firefight, he was amazed at the remarkably poor job the Sabre's men were doing. They were being absolutely demolished, and the raiders didn't even have to fight that hard. The Sabre's men were terrible at finding cover. He shook his head. Shoddy training could take down a gang just as easily as another gang could. He flexed his fingers and gestured as a bolt of lightning snaked out and fried one of the raiders from behind. The scream was muffled by the helmet. Several men turned to him, but they were all dead before they could let off a shot.

He walked around casually, zapping any man who tried to shoot him. He was stopped by a man obviously scared, pointing a rifle at him. Jim smiled sarcastically. The man fired. In a split instant, Jim did several things at once. A very thin bolt shot out and hit the bullet, not just stopping it, but sending it back towards the man. At the same time, he spun a finger, triggering a small electromagnetic impulse which flipped the bullet around. The bullet thudded into the man who had shot it a second later. Jim frowned. Now it was messy...

The last man dropped his gun and threw his hands up in the air. Jim walked up to him, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. He forced the man to his knees. "Do you know how many amps are needed to kill a man? It can be as low as 0.2, just to put your heart out of commission. Of course, if the voltage is higher, it's going to kill you a lot quicker. But, I could just run 1 whole Amp through you and you'd be completely fried. Poof, dead." Jim grinned, wickedly. He pulled the helmet off the man's head. The fellow was very German in appearance, blonde hair and blue eyes. "But I'm not a sadist, I'm a businessman. I want you to give whoever sent you a message. Nobody does ANYTHING in my territory without my say so, got it? And, just to prove I'm serious..." Jim flexed his "muscle" again, and the man screamed as he rapidly aged, Jim training the electrical energy stored as youth within the man.

A man of about 70 sat on the ground in front of him. Jim clicked his tongue and turned and walked away. "Don't forget! Nobody messes with the Conduit!"
Well, it's difficult to write a couple paragraphs when I have no clue what the response will be, but I will try.
@Athinar Trench Coats are good rainwear!
How would you like our characters to present themselves, and how long should the post be? IE. If I'm gonna post a response, I need to be given the preferred dialogue.
Much better, maybe change the combat one to "Capable of taking town two guys at once, possibly three" it just sounds better. No need to post it in OOC again, you're good.
Er, either of you gonna add anything to the pad soon?
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet