Red7VII

The Energy Storm

Location: Apartment > Street > Bar (Pour Judgement) | Interaction: None/Open

Theme

Everything was blurry and somehow time seemed to have retarded to half its usual speed. Rafael had spent the better part of an hour sitting alone in his dark apartment searching for answers, resolutions, anything... in a handle of vodka. Even after getting halfway to the bottom, he was just as lost and depressed as he was before.

His inner monologue played out a solemn melody to an otherwise upbeat song, bastardizing it to match his mood. He was done sitting alone with his thoughts. He decided it was best to venture out. If he couldn't improve his own vibe, perhaps there was someone else out there who could. Then again, the city was still reeling from the attack earlier in the day.

It was the early evening hours. The sun was making its escape across the horizon while the moon had already stared to beam down its reflected light. Rafael tried to consider what it meant, now, that he was a confirmed altered human. His considered the impending curfew, the treatment he was sure to get from the "normies" and, oh god, even his parents. Would they care? Surely not but... maybe? It was too much to process. He was going to need another drink.

As Rafael stumbled down the street, he gave an uncoordinated salute to each passerby, using all his concentration not to fall over upon or in front of them. Just get to a stool, he told himself. He looked up at the neon signs of the buildings he passed. The images visually echoed and traced as his eyes moved in any direction, but he could sort of make out some familiar shapes. Finally his eyes fixed upon what he was looking for: "Pour Judgement Tavern".

The bar wasn't much to look at from the outside. Some white, peeling paint covered the exterior walls. The two windows at the front facing the street were tinted black and covered in security bars. In between them was the entrance: a lone door covered completely in stickers advertising a variety of bands.

Rafael grabbed the doorknob and gave it a tug. Much to his surprise, the door hadn't opened. The doorknob, however, was still in his hand. Rafael furrowed his eyebrows as the fog of confusion took over. He looked at his hand and then back at the door before realizing that the knob had broken completely off and molded to the shape of Raf's fingers within his grasp.

"Cheap pizza sheeyit," he slurred at he let the knob fall to the ground. Sticking his finger into the doorhole where the knob once was, Rafael managed to slowly and carefully pull the door agape and slip inside.

As one enters Pour Judgement, they are met with the loud ruckus of a local band playing on the small stage at the far end of the building, a smoky haze that gave evidence to the fact that no one was adhering to the No Smoking sign posted out front, and a dim atmosphere that took the blinding edge off a drunkard's eyes. To the right side was the elongated bar that stretched the entire span of the wall, lined with barstools and patrons of various flavors. To the left were a few billiard tables, a dart board, and some vintage pinball games. This was a dive, for sure, but it's exactly what Raf thought he needed.

He shuffled over to one of the empty stools and plopped down before putting his elbows on the counter and propping his head up atop his closed fists. "VAHKAH!" He shouted out in the general direction of a distant bartender. "Preez, I mean," he added politely. Were he anyone else, he might've gotten thrown out then and there for already being a general mess. Luckily, Rafael and his roommates were regulars at this particular establishment, which afforded them a little leeway. After his first shot was placed in front of him, Rafael sank it down his gullet with ease before setting it back down and giving the counter two taps, a wordless request for more. He then spun the stool, taking in the faces of the people around him while the bartender reloaded. "Now wish one of deez muhfukkers is gon be mah new bess frin?" he asked aloud, forcing a queezy grin.

The Energy Storm

Disclaimer

I am about to take a lot of unapproved liberties with this post. (All the GMs are alseep, currently, and I'd hate to abandon this muse while waiting for an official 'OK'). That said, if any of this needs to be redacted, just let me know. No hard feelings.

Location: Street | Interaction: None/Open

"Oh, man. You're one of them, aren't you?" The mulletted stoner began backing up slowly, cautiously, while pointing an accusatory finger at his roommate. "Holy shit, you're Altered."

The accusation sent a chill down Rafael's spine. The sounds of mayhem and commotion in the background was instantly muted as the young, portly Hispanic man stared up at his roommate. Dave's horrified stare pierced him like daggers. He knew this would change things, not only for the relationship between the two of them, but for his entire life. Rafael was one of them. For better or worse, Raf was altered. For the longest time, he thought he was unaffected after surviving the plague but today proved otherwise. Even still, he couldn't understand the beginnings or the ends of his abilities. All he knew was that he should be broken as he laid on the street, but he was quite the opposite. He wasn't even hurt.

"Dave, I don't know what's going on, bro. I'm, you know, I'm still me, I just-"

Dave turned away. His demeanor was different. Fear, confusion... perhaps even betrayal were all feelings that floated in his mind. His best friend shared altered DNA with terrorists and hate mongers like Reaper and this giant rampaging woman who was already responsible for countless deaths. Dave didn't truly know how to feel. So... he fled.

"Dave!" Rafael shouted out to David's back. "Dave, I'm still me!" His eyes became hot as tears began to well up into his eyes. His friend didn't slow his retreat, however. Raf watched as Dave disappeared into the panicked crowd, leaving him alone to deal with the life changing revelation. "I'm still me," he repeated in a sorrowful whisper.

Location: Street

"That one," proclaimed the masked man sitting in the back of the Ford sedan, his presence hidden behind dark tinted windows. The specimen was perfect. He was young, but not too young, and exhibited traits and attributes that exemplified someone of pure breeding. The hair was a dead giveaway. "That's the one. Get him. Now," came the ominous command from the back seat. The driver of the sedan, a mountain of a man who was the embodiment of the word 'burly', exited the vehicle and started his pursuit. His neck was completely concealed by a massive dark beard. His body was wrapped in an expensive black business suit. His head reflected the light of the street lamps above, being completely bald.

This massive individual was not built for running. Instead he walk briskly, with purpose, while relocated anyone in his way with a forceful sweep on the arm. The visage of the yokel grew as the hulking figure drew closer. Soon, his prey was within arm's reach. The massive man reached back into his coat and retrieved a syringe. It was only moments later when the syringe was plunged into its victim's neck. The body fell limp, but not before the large goon took hold of it and hoisted it over his shoulder before returning to the car.

"Excellent work," noted the man in the back. "This young fellow may very well be the key to evening the playing field." The giant loaded the unconscious person sloppily into the trunk. As the door slammed down, it caught a small lock of the man's hair in the latch. The excess of his mullet. "Very good, Brock. Now, back to the lab." The driver complied, creating a screeching sound as he accelerated the vehicle at an alarming rate.

Location: Apartment | Interaction: None/Open

Crushed didn't seem like an adequate word for how Rafael felt. Defeated, deflated, low... The idea that he was now a member of a fraction of society that was automatically deemed terroristic and malicious was overwhelming. After Dave ran off, Rafael lifted himself up to his feet and made his way back to the sidewalk. He looked on as the giant altered woman continued to wreck havoc in the city. Part of him wanted to embrace this new life and jump into the fray, but another part couldn't help but acknowledge that he had no idea how any of this worked. He heard rumors and reports that these abilities were only granted upon people of color who recovered from the energy plague. He just seemed a bit late on the trigger, whatever the trigger was.

With nowhere else to go, Rafael moved slowly back toward his apartment, his feet dragging with each step as his mind raced. There was still another roommate who would need to know about the new development. And his parents, dear lordy, he was going to have to tell them, too. As the stress built up, he could feel the pulse in his neck. He opened the door to his home and shuffled inside before sitting on one of the couches. In front of him was a television set that had been turned off earlier. He stared at the black screen, looking at his own fuzzy reflection. He couldn't really make out his facial features in the dark image. It was just as well. Perhaps even an apt metaphor: he didn't recognize the person looking back at him.

Location: Secret Lab

"W-where the fuck am I?" Dave cried out, his voice quivering. "What the fuck is this?!" He struggled to move, but it was no use. His arms and legs were strapped down as he laid uncomfortably upon a metal slab. He could feel the chinstrap that held some sort of apparatus upon his head in place.

"Oh, dear boy," called out a voice from beyond Dave's field of vision. It was muffled, but enthusiastic. The owner of said voice soon came into frame, wearing a suit and mask usually reserved for work around hazardous materials. "You find yourself here, in my lab, at the precipice of evolution." The eerie masked man leaned closer, getting within an inch of Dave's ear. "I'm going to make you greater than you ever could have hoped to be. A pioneer. A game changer."

Goosebumps appeared over Dave's skin as he took in the words. He tried once more to break his limbs free of their restraints, but the effort was for naught. While he couldn't move his head much, he could move it just enough to realize he wasn't alone in this predicament. Just across the way was another metal slab with another victim laying restrained and unconscious atop. Only, the other victim was distinctively different...

"Is that a fucking penguin?!" Dave shouted in disbelief.

"Ah, why yes it is. A mere containment vessel, I assure you. The beast itself is of no consequence. You see, dear boy, I have been following the effects of the plague since it first began. I've been monitoring the subjects who have had notable reactions, studying their histories, their biology, their specific moments of ascension. Do you know that, to date, there are no living cases of altered caucasian subjects? Can you believe it?! A travesty, for sure. My goal is to correct this natural oversight," the masked man explained. "And you are my Patient Zero."

"Unfortunately, in my pursuit of ascension, several subjects have met their end. However, I believe that it's all going to be worth it, now. You see, I've been frustratingly unsuccessful at directly transferring the powers of an 'altered' person into any persons of Anglo descent. I've tried transfusions, creating a direct line between brain waves by utilizing and harnessing neural networks and even transplanting organs from one subject to the other. Individually, all my attempts have failed," he explained. He then looked back toward the unconscious penguin. "But I believe all I was truly missing was a buffer." A slow, ominous laugh rumbled out of this odd man's throat.

"You are batshit crazy, man! " Dave shouted out. "This is- this is just fucking insane!"

"Every innovator in history faced the same accusation before they changed the world. I take it as a compliment. You see, I believe I have successfully taken the abilities of an altered human and transferred them to this honorable fowl. Unlike the caucasion subjects before him, the beast remains alive, albeit unresponsive. A vegetative state, but still its body functions as it should with dormant supernatural traits beyond its feeble mind's ability to comprehend. Now that I've successfully transferred some hapless future radical's powers to it, I am now going to attempt to transfer those said powers over to you," the mad scientist announced.

"Transferred... radical... ?" Even the smallest parts of what the scientist was saying was confusing and appalling, "You're killing people, man! You're kidnapping people off the streets are you just killing them!"

"So dramatic. I'm not sacrificing leaders of industry or philanthropic Samaritans. But science does have a price. In this case, it came at the cost of an Asian bartender with a gift that made the entire world his playground. And now, if successful, that gift can be yours, my boy!" The scientist announced it with a sense of pride. In his eyes, he was doing this young pariah a great and amazing favor. He was elevating him to a life that would not be attained on the boy's own. In truth, instead of all this complaining, he would have sooner wanted to just hear 'Thank you'.

"You psycho mother fucker. Who even are you?! If you-!"

"That's quite enough of that," the scientist said before quickly applying some strong adhesive tape over Dave's mouth. "When this is over, you'll realize why it was necessary and what it means for the future of our society." He then moved away from the two subjects' bedsides and disappeared out of side to an adjacent control room, protected by thick glass.

"And as for who I am," came his voice broadcasting through a speaker system in the lab. "I am Dr. Thadeus Hyde, visionary and scientist supreme. Momentarily we will be initializing Neural Transfer. The abilities harnessed in the bestial vessel will be become your own," Dr. Hyde announced. Dave struggled, moaned and squirmed. He didn't know what else he could do. He was helpless and scared as he realized his life may no longer be measured in years, but seconds. "Initiating in 3..." Dave kicked and bucked, screaming muffled cries of defiance. "2..." He twisted and jerked in place, but the restraints held strong. "1!" Suddenly the lights flickered as the building's power all diverted to the device that encased the heads of Dave and the fowl. Dave's vision went blurry and soon the world went completely dark.

Howdy! :)

You said Howdy. This makes us friends now. Hope you have a good'n!

Current Mood in One Gif

The Energy Storm

I've only got one character. I don't think having multiple characters is a requirement, just a popular choice.

The Energy Storm

Location: Apartment > Street | Interaction: None/Open

The coffee table was decorated with an empty, greasy pizza box surrounded by several empty bottles of cheap beer, a bag of Rafael's surprisingly potent herbs, and a dirty rolling tray. Rafael and Dave were laying on their respective couches, their eyes bloodshot and glimmering as they stared at the television screen. The program they were watching had come to an end and the credits began to roll.

"Coming up next, stay tuned for more of our Party With The Penguins Marathon..." declared the television announcer.

"No!," Dave moaned, "No more penguins. Something else. Anything else!" Rafael scoffed, but abided the request as he grabbed the remote control and began flipping through channels.

"...we were ON A BREAK... kshhh ...gives you wings... kshh ...confirmed fatalities in the San Francisco area... kshh ...Well, fuck you guys! I'm going home!"

"Wait, go back! Go back one more," Dave demanded. Raf looked to him, slightly confused. Dave was not one who typically liked to watch the news. Regardless, he flipped the channel back.

"...got our eye in the sky, Kristi Phillips. Kristi, what are you seeing out there," asked the news anchor to their helicopter correspondent.

"Michael, the situation is very volatile, as one would expect. Authorities are moving in and... Oh my god! The terrorist just hurled two people at... oh, I'm going to be sick. Two people were just thrown into a helicopter. So much blood-"

"Bro, fuck this. I'm going back to South Park," Rafael declared before delivering on that statement. Dave wanted to protest, but his apathy was supercharged with intoxication and herbal influence. Instead, he just watched on as the cartoon kids ripped on eachother. Then came a forceful, urgent knock on the door.

It wasn't the knock of a friend coming by or a solicitor going door-to-door to sell some crappy product or service. This knock was specific, unique. Raf and Dave knew exactly who was on the other side. They both looked at eachother, their faces painted with panic.

"Cops!"

"Shit!" Raf exclaimed. They were each hit with that surge of adrenaline you get right before you know you're about to get caught doing something wrong. They launched themselves off the couch and onto their feet before surveying the room to quickly count how many transgressions they had committed.

"It's the police!" shouted a voice on the other side of their apartment door. "Open up!"

"Aw shit, man! Should I go flush it?!" Dave was not maintaining his cool at all. He looked at the bag on the table as if it were a murder weapon before gazing back up at his roommate.

"Fuck no," Raf said incredulously. "That shit is like green gold. Go put it in my Fun Box with the rest of my shit - in my room, bottom of the closet, underneath the dirty boxers." he instructed. The dirty boxers was Raf's ingenious added layer of security for the container of all his illegal substances. He figured if no one wanted to touch those boxers, they couldn't possibly get to his Fun Box underneath. "I'll try and get rid of them, but you have to play it cool, got it?" Dave nodded and did as he was told while Raf made his way to the closed door. "Hi, uh, officer," he called out loudly while looking through the peephole. He could see two uniformed men on the other side. Neither one looked very happy. "What's up?"

"Open the door, son," one of the officers repeated forcefully. "We're in a state of emergency. Everyone needs to evacuate."

Relief coated Rafael's entire body. This wasn't a raid afterall. He turned the doorknob and cracked it open just a bit before sticking his head out. "Oh, thank god. I thought you were here because of all the dru-, uh, drrragonss..."

"Excuse me? Did you say 'dragons'?" asked the officer's partner.

"N-no." Rafael's mind was working at half speed, the haze of the drug and drink combination working in full effect.

"You clearly said 'dragons'."

"You said dragons," Raf shot back, showcasing his unparalleled wit. He then raised his eyebrows as if silently asking the officers if that retort was good enough to move on passed this subject.

"Listen, we don't have time for this. I'm sure you know by now that there is a dangerous situation in progress and everyone is encouraged to leave the city, at least temporarily. Get what you absolutely need and get out as quickly as possible, alright?" Before Rafael could answer, the two police officers walked away, heading to the next door down to deliver the same message to Raf's neighbors. He slowly shut the door and looked back to see Dave standing in the kitchen with sunglasses on.

"What are you doing? What's with the shades?" Raf asked.

"If they saw my eyes, they'd know we were fucked up. Plus they make me look like a badass. No one wants to mess with a badass." Dave gave a little flex before shifting back to a state of concern. "They're gone, though, right?"

"Ya. They said we gotta go. I guess because of that stuff on the news," he deduced.

"Yeah, the giant lady. I tried to tell you earlier," Dave pointed out. "It's getting wild out there with these altered folk."

"Altered folk? Wait, how giant was this lady?" Raf was finally connecting dots. In response, Dave held his hand out flat right by his own forehead, showing his own height. He then went slightly higher, signalling that she was taller than that. He then started jumping up and down, pointing skyward in obnoxious exaggeration. Clearly this woman was supernaturally massive.

At this point, curiosity was getting the better of Rafael. With a small squint, he turned around and opened the door once more before heading outside. Dave called out behind him, asking where he was going, but Raf didn't bother to respond. He made his way out to the sidewalk where people were running around like crazy. Cars were honking, helicopters could be heard overhead. Police and ambulance sirens were blaring out in multiple directions. And that's when he saw her...

The star of the show, an altered human just less than a mile off in the distance that stood a couple of hundred feet high. Rafael's jaw dropped. His vision began to tunnel as his body went on autopilot, moving slowly toward this massive woman with small, uncalculated steps. Soon his was off the sidewalk, walking into the street between idle cars to get a better look. He could hardly believe it.

Normally something like this would scare the hell out of him. He wasn't sure if it was the buzz from the alcohol or the high, but the only thing he felt currently was an odd curiosity.

Then he felt a speeding truck.
And then he felt the wind through his hair as he went airborne.
Finally, he felt the asphalt with his face, and then his legs and, of course, his arms as he went tumbling down the street.

He heard a woman scream, but soon realized it was just Dave. His roommate ran up to him and struggled to get words out of his mouth.

"Ohmyg, hoah, jeezus, are you okay, man?!" he finally managed to sputter. "Why the hell did you go wandering in the street like that? I can't believe that asshole in the Chevy just plowed right through you! What the hell is wrong with people these days? Why aren't you talking? Oh, lordy, do you have brain damage? Blink once if you can hear me! Was that a blink? Was that a normal blink or a 'I can hear you' blink? Damnit, now I can't stop blinking..."

"Ugh, fuck off, I'm fine," Rafael finally said, pulling himself up off the road with minor strain.

"Oh... good. But, uh... why are you fine?" Dave asked, perplexed. It was a fair question, Raf realized. As he came to his feet, he looked down at himself. His shorts were a little tattered and his shirt was now torn in several spots, exposing portions of his soft midsection. However, there was no blood, no wounds, and no scratches to speak of. Rafael froze for a moment, trying to process what had just happened, but Dave was a little quicker on the draw.

"Oh, man. You're one of them, aren't you?" The mulletted stoner began backing up slowly, cautiously, while pointing an accusatory finger at his roommate. "Holy shit, you're Altered."

The Energy Storm

Location: Apartment | Interaction: None

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why we don't eat them, too." Rafael and his roommate found themselves lazily sprawled out on their own individual mismatched couches in a dimly lit living room, their eyes glued to the television playing in front of them. The air was hazy and odorous, a remnant of the herbs they had just burned. Raf, the huskier half, was in his 'work uniform': a single off-white sock, black basketball shorts and a faded blue shirt that was clearly a size too small. His roommate, Dave, was only slightly more presentable. The man was skinny, clean shaven and his outfit was complete with a pair of jeans, two socks (both clean!) and an appropriately fitting dark shirt. However, resting on the top of Dave's head was a meticulously groomed mullet that the man assured everyone was just for the ladies.

"The fuck are you talking about, bro," asked Raf, hardly moving his limp body as he took in the nature program on the screen.

"I mean, we eat chickens, right?"

"...yeah..." Raf's eyebrow began to raise a little.

"Because they can't really fly. They're easy to catch, y'know," insisted Dave.

"...yeah, but-"

"Now, hold on a sec," Dave interrupted. "We also eat turkeys, right? Got a whole gah'dang holiday for it, man! You feel me?" Raf's eyes began to furrow, but his gaze still refused to leave the television set as he took in Dave's musings. "Turkeys are shitty at flying, too! Therefore..."

"Dude!" Raf quickly sat up. And by quickly, I mean there was was a minor struggle, several bodily adjustments, and one split second of utter panic when he thought he might fall off the couch. "No one wants to eat penguins, you stupid ass redneck looking idiota! Look at them!" Rafael gestured toward the screen where the nature show was broadcasting a mother penguin cozying up to her chicks. "They're cute! No one wants to eat cute shit!"

"People eat rabbits. Rabbits are cute," Dave retorted.

"Your people eat rabbits, pinche gringo." Rafael stood up and stretched a bit before turning toward the kitchen. "You want a beer?" Dave responded with an elevated thumbs up before letting his arm fall back down lifelessly with a thud.

Rafael opened the old refrigerator and stared into the darkness within. The lightbulb had gone out last week. Dave, Rafael and their other roommate, Tom, had an intense tournament of 3-way Roshambo. The loser would have to go to the store to get the bulb. After several losses, a temper tantrum and a thrown fork, Rafael accepted defeat and the responsibility of taking care of the light.

"Too high," he muttered to himself as an excuse. "Gonna have to do it tomorrow." It was his daily mantra. He reached into the darkness and came back with two cold bottles of brew. Usually Tom would be drinking with his roommates as well, but he actually had a legitimate 9-5 job as a janitor in some hoity toity office building. Tom had given the name of the company several times, but Raf couldn't be bothered to remember.

He kicked the fridge shut with his bare foot and turned to return to the living area. He suddenly paused for a moment and stood very still. He could have sworn...

"Ay, man, did you feel that?"

"I feel ma'dang tongue drying up with you taking so damn long," Dave called back.

Then Raf felt it again. A tremor. He recalled a trick he learned from a documentary about dinosaurs or something that he saw a while back. He put the beer bottles down on the countertop and stared into them. Just as suspected, simultaneous ripples formed within just as Raf felt a third tremor.

"Oh shit... OH SHIT, DUDE!" He yelled out as he took a double-fisted grip of his own long, unkempt, black hair.

"What is it, man?" Dave asked, looking slightly annoyed as he sat up. "Why the hell are you freaking out?"

"The fucking ripples, bro! There's...!" Rafael quickly looked for the nearest window. He spotting the one just above the sink and hurried over to it, manhandling the blinds for a peak outside. "There's a fucking T-Rex coming! I can literally fucking feel it!"

"You have lost your damn mind. Do you really think you need that beer right now?" Begrudgingly, Dave stood up and started walking toward the same window. Then the tremor hit again, but harder. Closer. Dave's eyes went wide like a deer in headlights. The doubt he once had almost completely vanished as he pushed Rafael aside to get his own glimpse into the outside world.

"I told you, bro! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Do you see it? Is it out there?" Rafael began pacing frantically around the kitchen, his hands shaking with adrenaline.

"I don't... wait! I think I... Aw maaan."

"What is it?! What do you see?!" Raf demanded. Dave took his hands off the blinds, letting them snap back into position before picking up the beer bottles and shoving one into Rafael's chest.

"Ain't no damn T-Rex's out there, you simple bastard. Just some giant lady knocking shit over. T-Rex's aren't real." Dave casually made his way over to his preferred couch before plopping down and opening his beer.

Raf wasn't totally sure how to process that information. He sort of looked at his hands for a minute and then back at the closed window. This is some good ass weed, he decided. I probably oughtta up the price. A business man at work. He then looked back to Dave. "Hey, bro, we should order a pizza, right?" Dave hoisted up the thumb of approval.

Game of Thrones: From the Ashes

@redxiii......... It can be all three.

Does that clear it up?

@LeiaHair

Yes. Ultimately character deaths are imposed upon, but you can present added hypotheticals for your character to create ways to escape impending death and as long as those hypotheticals are deemed worthy, your character will live to see another day, but said worthiness will be determined by the GM, thereby falling under the imposed category. Under heated dispute, dice will get involved and ultimately rule, which would also fall under the Imposed category. Deaths can be contested based on writing skill (Can you write a more clever escape versus the other player's clever attack, as judged by the GM) but are, for the most part, imposed upon by someone (or something) other than the character's creator.

There does not exist a rule or policy to which a player can say "I do not want my character killed for the entirety of the RP" and therefore character deaths are not agreed upon, but players are encouraged to try their best.

Game of Thrones: From the Ashes

Does that answer your question?

@LeiaHair

It started to, but then it sort of turned on itself. At first it was plainly stated that it had to be agreed upon and then it changed to who is the more clever writer before descending into who wins a dice roll. Is it agreed upon or is it imposed upon? Sounds like the latter, in most instances.

Game of Thrones: From the Ashes

Are the character deaths agreed upon or imposed upon?

I would hate to invest time and effort only to find out, by surprise, that all of it was for naught. It makes for a compelling read when one author is pulling all the strings, but can be pretty hairy when you've got several authors exclusively dedicated to a single main character.