RBYDark

New Frontiers: A High Fantasy RTD

I wouldn't say we're in far enough, but it's up to you. You'd be the one doing the rolling, after all. I don't mind the mechanic personally, considering I'm in another dice-rolling game.

Pariah

Nkiruka, Mikael's latest source, was quite pleased with himself as he got the notification about the money. He'd honestly lucked into the situation, having left the bar after some attempts to gather information, and then who should he see but 'the Rat' himself sticking out of a dumpster as another Variant - one Nkiruka had never seen before - was engaged in a fight. Of course he livestreamed it. The two chatted for a few minutes afterwards, Nkiruka briefly stepping back to let the truckers by. He couldn't catch their words fully, but he did catch their actions: Remy throwing something into the dumpster, the unknown man handing Remy - a card, maybe? It looked flimsy but it could have contact information on it. He ended the stream, figuring it'd be boring to just watch him follow the two. He was quick enough with the record button if they did anything interesting. To his dismay, though, the two were splitting up - he pressed himself flat against the bar wall and feigned interest in his phone as the unknown Variant left the alleyway. Which one to follow? He couldn't waste too much time deciding. He quickly texted his benefactor.

THEYVE SPLIT. FOLOING RAT. POS CONTACT INFO With that, he darted into the alley and stopped by the dumpster as a twinkle caught his eye. He examined it briefly: a rather expensive-looking smartwatch. Was that what Remy had thrown away? Interesting. He set it back down and walked after Remy, keeping a short distance and his footsteps soft. Some of these side streets got quite winding, he'd discovered over the years, and just when he thought he knew everything about the city, something new would surprise him. He let himself admire the architecture rather than stare too intently at Remy; there was always that old sensation, the 'eyes watching you'.

Remy soon exited the alleyway, heading towards a large burning building, and Nkiruka knew he was going to lose his chance. He jogged up to Remy's side.

"Hey there. Remy, right? Mind if we talk?"

"Sorry, you got the wrong guy," Remy shot back. Who was this guy? How did he know his name? And why was he looking for him? He began to quicken his step.

Nkiruka kept the smile on his face. Ok, maybe he should've seen that coming. Now to determine the best way to counter without escalating...

"No, I'm pretty sure you're Remy the Rat. I blog about Variants, and you've been suggested a few times. Biggest reason I don't post you is that no one can seem to agree what it is you do." He chuckled as he followed after. "Everything from invisibility to making things explode. You might get a kick out of seeing the list sometime. Honestly, until ten minutes ago, I really wasn't convinced."

"I'm not a variant," Remy denies, feeling a little mystified. Why would anyone be looking into him? "You got the wrong guy."

"You're not? I mean, if you don't want on the blog, that's fine. I respect privacy." Nkiruka shrugged. "Though, quick question - why throw out the smartwatch? Back at the dumpster."

"What smartwatch? I don't have a smartwatch!" Remy snarls. "Get away from me, mister!"
Why was this guy watching him?

Nkiruka raised his arms in surrender. Right, so he was going about this the wrong way. He could double-down with the recorded livestream, he could back off and see if he could catch up with the other guy, or try a different angle. No matter which one he picked, snarking back would obviously be the wrong option.

"Well, I'm getting paid to scout out Remy the Rat, who's a Variant, for a guy looking to hire him. I guess if you're not him, we can wrap up our business. I'll just have one final question and that'll be it."

A piece of bait. With any luck, curiosity and desire would overcome his defensiveness.

"Hire?" Remy choked, turning to face him. Oh god, not again....! "Mister, I'm just a kid! I don't care who you're working for or how much money they got, I don't want to sleep with them!"

Nkiruka looked up sharply at that. "I'm 95% certain he's looking for a bodyguard, not a prostitute." Did he even want to know why this guy had assumed the worst? "I'm not into human trafficking. Right now, I'm just collecting information."

Some people at the edge of the crowd were glancing their way - Remy was being a little loud, he supposed, but pointing that out would likely make him louder. He rubbed a little at the right side of his face - his glass eye was feeling itchy now.

Remy stares with his mouth open at Nkiruka, then sprints away, screaming "Pervert! PERVERT!"

Hm. Enough to pay most of his bills for the month. Not getting his ass beaten. Funny how money made what should've been an easy choice tricky.

"I'm just looking for information!" Nkiruka called after Remy, not quite willing to pursue him. There was still that issue of Remy admitting (somewhat garbledly, on stream) an inability to control his power, whatever it was, and it seemed to rely on contact. Making things explode was still on the table. "I was just looking for information," he repeated to the people who were staring at him, many none too friendly. "I interview local Variants and post information about them to my blog. That's all - Variance and Vigilantes, I don't suppose you've heard of it." He was hardly the only Variant source online, but he did focus on New Haven Variants and tried to get their side of things. For now, just drop the job angle, they didn't need to know. When no one sparked recognition or interest in his defense, he ducked back into the alley and bolted, to the sounds of a few footsteps behind him.

---

It was half an hour later that Nkiruka stopped running, certain he had not been followed any further. He sighed and pulled out his phone to text about his failure.

DINT BELIVE JOB OFER. THINKS UR LOOKIN 4 SEX. SORRY BOSS He sighed as he sent the message. And as for the other guy... something about him looked familiar, now that he thought on it. THINK I KNOW OTHER GUY. CHEKING FILES

He pulled up his blog and scrolled through the list of the Variants he knew about. Despite the guy’s protective nature, Nkiruka was almost certain he wasn’t a Noble. Not to enforce stereotypes, but he was just a little too ragged. Pariah Underground, probably, though not someone he’d interviewed yet. He wasn’t that familiar. The search didn’t take that long - there were only a hundred or so Variants on his blog. Energy manipulation was even rarer. When he did find him, well. Running quite a distance worked up quite a thirst. But if he’d been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out or worse, dropped it.

U DONT WANT THIS GUY. HES CRIMINAL With the message, Nkiruka sent a link to the profile on the still-unnamed Variant, his photograph one of him apparently holding an officer hostage, metal pipe sparking at the man’s neck.

That said, it did invite the very singular question of why the Variant had apparently saved Remy. But would the interview be worth it?

Pariah

&

Jimi was dumbfounded for a second before he sauntered into the alleyway, trailing his fingers along the wall and shaking his head. "Oh, you've got it all wrong. I'm a very bad person." He bared his teeth in a mirthless grin. "And I don't think I like what I see here. You get one chance to walk away from this before I start swinging, got it?" The electrical charge almost seemed to hiss in agreement.

Harry, sweat beading on his bald forehead, stepped in front of Jimi with his arms outstretched. "Hey, guy, I'm sorry about Joe and him punching the kid, he got all upset and I was hoping to get him down to the gym so he could work out his anger."

"Joe, put the kid down!" he yells behind him.

"Yeah, Joe, listen to your friend." Jimi dropped the mirthless grin at least. He liked to think he was rational - that if they were willing to walk away without a fight, he was too. Of course, there was that part that hoped Joe wouldn't listen, that wanted this to break into a fight he knew he'd win. He stomped down on that part, but the pipe remained charged and crackling with electricity.

"Alright," Joe smiled, releasing his grip on Remy's coat. He fell back into the dumpster with a squawk.
"I know that look," Joe continued, turning to face Jimi. "You willin' ta drop that stick and make it a fair fight?"
"Joe! No!" Harry cried out. "Carl, drag him back!"
Carl glanced between Jimi then back at Joe, then started lumbering towards Joe.
"Keep outta this, Harry! You too, Carl. I want him."

Jimi scowled as Remy fell in. Oh, yeah, he wanted a piece of this guy. And when Joe offered himself on a platter, he dumbly blinked before barking out a laugh. He reabsorbed the electricity from the pipe and let it fall with a clatter.

"That's quite an idea, isn't it? A fair fight." He walked up to 'Joe', still chuckling. "Just a tiny problem is all. Just one." He put a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"With me, it's never fair." He dug his nails in, and the contact was enough to start pumping the heat energy into Joe. Fever, heatstroke, sun sickness - there were a few names for what he was doing. It all led to the same basic principle, though: if Joe didn't surrender, no fakeouts, he would have his brain poached in its own fluids.

Joe screams, falling to his knees while trying to use his hand to fend Jimi off.
"Joe!" Harry calls out, when Carl brushes past him, swinging at Jimi.
"Stop!" Harry yells.

Jimi did let go of Joe, only to grab at Carl. This time, instead of infusing heat energy, he was draining it. Hypothermia, they'd call it if they made it to the hospital. He probably would - it would just manifest as some very bad chills right now, only worsening if he kept his grip.

"Energy transfer. Never learned how to shut it off," he lied, but as long as he kept the same casual tone, how would any of them know? "Not to blame you, but you might've asked why I'm a very bad person."

Carl too had fallen to his knees, the big man wrapping his arms around him as he shook with cold.

"Mister, please, just let Carl go!" Harry begged. He pulls out his wallet and produces a couple of c-notes, handing them to Remy who was looking over the edge of the dumpster with a little awe. "Kid, just take the money, I'm sorry about Joe punching you, okay?"

Jimi looked suspiciously at Harry, then Carl, then released Carl and hopped back, lest the man decide it was a good opportunity to take a swing. He gave Carl as wide a breadth as he could as he collected his pipe from the ground. "Well. At least we've got one good person here." He pointed with the pipe to Harry - a gesture, not a threat. "They probably won't need the hospital. I didn't hold on long enough. Just treat 'em as if they got really sick. Fluids, bedrest, that good stuff."

"Thank you," Harry says humbly. He offers a hand to Remy, but the boy just jerks back, wide eyed. "Can't say I blame you," the trucker sighs. "Carl, can you walk or do I gotta call a cab?"
Carl just nods dumbly, stumbling to his feet and back towards the other two.
Harry knelt down and wrapped his arm around Joe, helping him up. "Joe, you gotta stop taking it out on the world! Sharon left you for that bit of flash. We know you're hurting, but you gotta let it go!"
"Seven years," Joe gasps, hand rubbing where Jimi stuck his fingernails in. "Partners for seven years, and she just drove off with him!"
The three truckers take a wide berth around Jimi and head towards the street.

"....world sucks," Jimi managed as the three passed. It was about as much sympathy as he could muster, given the scene he'd walked into.

He walked up to the dumpster Remy was still in as the trio left, putting his pipe back into his belt. "Seriously, you need a hand to get out of there?" It then occurred to him that the younger teen (he seemed younger at least, but not a full-on child) would've heard what he said. "My powers are actually at will, but things tend to work out better when people believe you can't stop it."

"Thanks," Remy says, shaking his head. "I uh, can't control mine. Please mister, step back."

Jimi nodded and stepped back. Ok, now he felt like a bit of a dick for pretending his powers couldn't be controlled if the guy here actually couldn't control them. "Mind if I ask what you got?"

Remy glances back at where the burger used to be, but a smear was all that was left. He sighs, then climbs out, the two c-notes tucked away in a top pocket.

"If someone bumps into me, I get something of theirs," Remy admitted, digging in his pockets to produce Joe's smartwatch. Remy scowls and tosses it into the dumpster. The other pocket had Joe's wallet. He glanced inside and whistled at the bills, then up at Jimi. "Want half?"

Jimi's eyebrows lifted as he saw the amount. "If you don't mind." Heck, if he was stringy with his groceries, he could get the electricity back on today - well, in a few days, considering mail and everything, but point was!

Good people don't profit off stealing from others. Bad.

Nope not addressing that right now. More like- "Not gonna lie, hoping you have a place to get cleaned up."

"Yeah, " Remy nods, handing over half the bills and tossing the wallet under the dumpster. "I'll just hit a vending machine on the way, can't go in someplace like this."
His stomach did a loud grumble.

Jimi wasn't sure what that meant but nodded anyways. "I'd offer, but the water got shut off a while ago. Been making do with air fresheners." That was third on his priority list, after rent and electricity. Laundromats existed after all. He paused at Remy's stomach making itself known.

"...sure you don't want me to run in and get you something?"

"Ah, no, thanks," Remy says, glancing at the kitchen door. "There's a Wenyi's and a Chef's pizza machine just past the bar."

I can get washing up tabs from the Boots drugs machine, too, Remy mused. It was a pain washing everything at home by hand, but he didn't want to wash everything but his coat while standing in the laundromat with people giving him the bent eye. All he needed was some karen on the warpath about a nearly naked homeless kid exposing himself. After what happened in the park, he wanted to stay off the police radar.

Jimi nodded - couldn't really argue with that logic. "Alright. Hope ya don't mind, but I still need to get to the store before it closes." He paused and then dug into his pockets, eventually coming up with a broken-off pen and an old receipt. He jotted down something on the receipt and handed it to Remy - an address, located in the Shanty, and a series of three numbers. "Just in case Joe doesn't learn his lesson or someone else decides to be a bag of dicks."

"Uh, thanks," Remy says, taking the slip of paper carefully. "I'm Remy, everyone calls me "the rat.""

"....I don't get it, but ok." Jimi nodded. "Just 'Jimi' is fine. You stay safe, alright?"

Urban Shadows - Heebie Jeebies

<Snipped quote by RBYDark>

Nice throw, mark Mortality and select one of the following bonuses: You’ve got a Debt on someone in Mortality. You receive a useful morsel of information. Or you gain a handy piece of equipment.

@rush99999

I'll take the piece of equipment please! Might have multiple uses.

Pariah

"Who wants to bet my brother can't reach that window ledge? Any takers?"

Diarmi posed confidently, glancing upwards at the second-story window ledge his little sister had pointed to. Maybe three inches wide, a foot and a half long, set into the brick exterior of some deli he knew nothing about (though its broad windows certainly invited inspection).

Yeah. He could make that.

He stretched, feeling the familiar popping of bones shifting around their joints, as his little sister collected bets. Some were genuine, he knew, though others were 'betting' just for the pleasure of seeing him either fall flat on his face, or out of spite towards those people. Most people were betting against him, and Zola absolutely did not carry enough cash to pay out if he failed.

He couldn't fail. He wouldn't fail.

And when she said 'Dimi?', off he went. Personally, he thought leaping at the deli window without actually smacking into it was far more impressive than getting up to a second-story window, but that's not what the people were betting on, was it? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone, probably an employee, startle at his presence, but he refused to allow it to distract him. It took only a slight bend of the knee to launch himself up, grab the upper ledge, and twist his body to land above it. This next part would be tricky, but it was simple to him: just move quick enough and gravity would lag behind. His fingers, callused from hours of stunts like these, gripped onto the rough bricks and he skittered along the surface, grabbing the ledge from beneath, and pushing off the wall to flip up onto the ledge, where he turned and waved down to the crowd, in varying states of flabberghast (was that a word?), amusement, and awe. His parents, who'd been watching with only mild interest, gave a polite applause in contrast to the whoops and cheers from the crowd. Zola went among them to pay out the handful of winners. And in the back of the crowd, he could see his two oldest siblings moving about.

His stomach dropped, but his grin didn't. He stood, catching the top of the window, and bowed, encouraging their excitement and their attention on him. Better him than Zola, he'd decided all those months ago. Let her stay innocent in all this. He leaped off from the ledge, taking the second to pose in the air before landing in a tumble and springing back to his feet. The crowd went nuts - well, most. Some were beginning to leave, down the street or into the deli where he suspected they'd tell that poor employee about the stunt that weird kid had just pulled. While it wasn't like the family couldn't hold people captive, them leaving was never good. It meant less money, and, to his own disgust, fewer targets.

Not that such feelings showed on his face. Instead, he bowed and gestured to his parents - his father had already drawn out the old in-desperate-need-of-a-polish fiddle to play, and his mother was promising "magic like you've never seen before!"

Which, Diarmi supposed, was a fair claim to make. How often did money vanish from people's wallets anyways?

Near the middle, someone was checking their cellphone and audibly swore - so he assumed anyhow, it wasn't a word he was familiar with. He edged a bit closer as their companion asked what was wrong.

"Burglary in progress in Midtown. Variants reported. I have to go that way for work."

"Damn. Maybe your boss will understand if you're late?"

"Like that bastard's that nice."

Diarmi tuned out the rest of their conversation, nerves buzzing. Variants! Mainly, other Variants! He'd stretched his muscles and brain only a couple of times since the family had arrived in New Haven three weeks ago but only against non-Variants. He glanced to his parents, then to Zola who was watching him curiously. He quickly schooled his expression into something less excited.

"Hey, Zol, I need to go to the RV. Cover for me?" It was more an expression than an actual desire - after all, his parents wouldn't need his parkour again for some time. It was more likely they'd bring Zola up front and have her demonstrate some parlor tricks. (And, ok, he didn't have to like it, but his little sister was adorable.) She nodded, offering him a thumbs-up, and he dashed away to get changed and head on over. It was hard, maintaining a secret identity, but his family simply could not know.

(Alessa saw him running to the RV. Probably to play superhero again. One day, she'd have to sit him down and explain how inaccurate the comics were when it came to the real world.)

---

A change of attire and multiple rooftops later, the burglary had apparently evolved into a fire. Flip only took a moment to breathe through his nose as he surveyed the scene - he wasn't pyrophobic, no, but he was pretty sure it was rational to be nervous around blazes like this. Besides, this was going to be his last bit of fresh air for a while. He had to be sure no one was trapped inside - that’s what a real hero would do first, and if there was anyone, he had to save them. Simple enough. Cops were present, no firefighters yet, a blur that stopped and then headed in - oh wow, was that actually Breakneck? ... would she be in the mood for an autograph later?

Flip launched himself off the rooftop, executing a series of flashy flips that doubled to slow his fall and get some horizontal distance. Just before he would've hit the ground palm-first, he summoned a levitation bubble to bounce off of, just behind the police tape, and performed one last aerial somersault before landing on his feet. No cheers or applause greeted his performance this time, but he didn't expect it to. He was still new after all, and this was a crisis situation. He was about to ask the nearest cop if anyone was still inside when he realized he recognized the pink-haired young lady nearby. Two Nobles at one site - his knees felt like they'd give out any second, but he shoved the feeling down. Couldn't let the performance anxiety show. He hurried to her side instead.

"Anything I can do to help, uh-" Ms or Mrs? "-Madame Senbonzakura?" God that sounded awkward. He needed to distract from that and fast. "I've got telekinesis." There, landed it. Hopefully.

---

Jimi's a bad person. Always has been, always will be. But he knows that. He wouldn't dare delude himself into thinking he's good. Good people don't burglarize homes-

"It was robbery. No one was home," Jimi muttered back to the voice in his head. He knew it was in his head, no one else ever heard it, but it didn't stop him from snapping at it once in a blue moon.

Good people don't talk back or interrupt either. Very bad person.

Jimi kept quiet. He couldn't argue with that. Nor the fact that he had been a lookout for a robbery earlier in the day. It had been a bit of an impulsive thing - one of his contacts rang him up on the burner phone and asked if he wanted to make a quick buck. He glanced at his dead and empty fridge and said sure, why not. 'It'll set off the demon that lives in my head' was why not, but that just sounded crazy. His contacts didn't do 'crazy'. Now he had a roll of cash in his pocket and a tirade going off in his brain. It maybe wasn't the best deal Jimi had ever made. Still, now he could buy some groceries. And if it happened again tomorrow, he could get the electricity back on. He did miss having a cool place when the sun got too hot. Wolfy probably missed it too, he bet.

Lost as he was in his musings, deafened by the internal rant, he very nearly missed the rattle that came from the alley ahead. It was enough to make him pause. The voices he could hear, neither friendly nor concerned, made him reach for the electrical-taped metal pipe he kept tucked into his belt. Even the demon had fallen silent as Jimi tried to figure out if it was safe to pass by. He crept closer, grabbing onto the corner of the wall. It grew chilly at his touch while the pipe began to crackle with electric current.

Then came the sound of someone getting hit.

Jimi wasn't a good person. It was something beat into the inside of his skull daily, and it was never argued with. He knew better than to try. Trying had led him here. Because a good person didn't want to hurt others or let others get hurt.

Jimi couldn't stand by knowing someone was getting hurt.

He rounded the corner, wall cooling even further as he stared down the alleyway. Three against one? Hardly fair.

"Hey!" He smacked the pipe against the wall to ensure he had their attention. It wasn't enough to dispel the pipe's charge but enough to draw some attention to its crackling. "What's going on here?" And what a figure he must cut, with his stitched-up hoodie and worn-at-the-knees jeans. Hardly intimidating. Now that he thought of it, he realized he didn't even know if those three were Variants or not.

Well. He had yet to meet a Variant who dealt well with hypothermia, heatstroke, and tasing.

Urban Shadows - Heebie Jeebies

@rush99999 Rumor has it that a new hunter is moving to the city - well-known for taking care of ANYTHING supernatural. And they're not the kind willing to sit down to tea just because you happen to be supernatural AND rational, if you catch my drift.

Rolled a 12. Let's see if that luck carries on.

New Frontiers: A High Fantasy RTD

Jay couldn't help but freeze as the coachman peeled off, arm half-raised as if he could've stopped the coach by such an action alone. Had he been recognized? What an awful feeling, to be recognized when you didn't recognize the other person. And now he wouldn't know, not for a good long while if ever at all. He lowered his arm, took a deep breath, and turned to follow the group who apparently agreed with his plan to investigate the settlement. The prisoner, Rish, discussed getting a vantage point and Mira mentioned how the smoke could indicate something dangerous.

"I hadn't thought of that," he spoke softly, a blush rising to his ears. He and Burt could've walked right into danger. "Thank you." For being there, he supposed. For having enough sense that their curiosity hadn't blinded them. He followed behind the three, thinking about what each hoped to gain. Burt had already explained himself; Rish didn't seem to have a choice; Mira and Laudy Aur were both a bit of a mystery, but then again, they maybe just didn't feel ready to disclose their reasons. Jay would not push them. No, he'd push a bit of a more dangerous subject.

"If I may, why did the elves send you out here?" he addressed Rish. Just vague enough that if Rish did not wish to explain, he wouldn't have to. Jay hoped he might but wasn't counting on it. He considered and then tacked on an extra question. "Did they expect you to make a new life out here?" Or to die, the question went unasked but was present all the same.

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

@RBYDark

This looks promising, but let's touch base on a few things; firstly, backstory. The main thing that strikes me as odd is how, er....Emotional his spiders come off as? That was my best way of describing it, but my point being this. End of the day, they're still spiders, so beyond being piloted by his intents (which is what some of this could be viewed as, but it's put forth in a kinda odd way), they're still very simplistic creatures. As for his power, the ability-copying needs to last for a far shorter frame; I'd say at most is perhaps 10 minutes, to prevent him from simply having access to a massive collection of powers of his choosing that can last him for potentially a whole hour lol. Oh, and also, how exactly do these 'power transfusions' work when it comes to giving him multiple Parahuman abilities at once, or when (theoretically, given this is not dismissed in the Power section itself) granted to other Parahumans? Does it simply not work? Or does he gain those multiple powers, perhaps at some cost, like the duration, potency, or control of said abilities? Some things to think on that I'd like to see handled before I fully accept him, but overall, it's lookin' good. :)

@Mintz

Ah. Uh, so I most definitely appreciate the feedback, those are all legitimate concerns to have and I agree they're in need of fixing when brought to light like that. That said, some stuff has changed since I last updated the sheet. I honestly thought this rp was dead, so Webber's been submitted to a different rp. Due to a personal rule about one rp per character - last time I didn't follow it, I got some stuff mixed up - I'll need to withdraw his app and possibly start over on a new character. Given some other changes in my life circumstances, I'm not certain how plausible this will be. I'll try, but certainly don't wait on my behalf is all I'm saying.

Urban Shadows - Heebie Jeebies

Alrighty then!

@RBYDark
Please select a faction for Kendra to hear a rumor about and a faction for Grace to hear a rumor about.

@rush99999

Grace hears about the Power faction. Kendra hears something about the Wild faction.

Urban Shadows - Heebie Jeebies

Was waiting on the sheet edits, sorry.

Misty is definitely the one Mitra trusts the least, mostly on account of actually committing a crime. Did you really need to steal that book? Did you?

If the edits aren't made, I guess I default to Kendra. Just not knowing her is all.