Question, in this AU, what's the situation with the Mandalorians? Have the True Mandalorians been killed off as usual, or might they have beaten Death Watch thoroughly?
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Forum: Casual Roleplay
Might there be a place for a necromancy-practicing homicide detective?
WIP
1:12: AM
Friday, March 9th, 2020
Burnley Docks, Gotham City
There five local bulls, three Fae in their assorted glamours and two undead of a sort that Clayton couldn't make out from around the corner he peaked his bulk over. Probably regular old zombies or half-assed flesh golems, if the way they stood almost motionless at the side of one of the toughs were any indication. Both were wrapped up in heavy coats and hoodies in a poor attempt to hide the smell and rotting features, but fooling a necromancer with that sort of trick was a poor gamble. The fact that these gangbangers had any sort of undead at all, though, was concerning for the big man, and he felt his lips press into a thin line as he eyed each and every one of them. They were arguing, or at least the Humans were. These idiots actually thought having a pair of undead would mean shit at all to Fae, figuring they could get a little last minute re-negotiation in over whatever haul had been brought in tonight.
Clayton didn't have any patience for idiots right now, and it looked like the Fae didn't either, one lumbering up to the apparent leader of the gangers as he blustered like a jackass. Almost the time to move in, he thought, eying those undead with a wicked grin. Those kids might not know how to put those monsters to use properly, but Clayton sure did. He started to gather his power, whispering the words as he focused on the pair of smelling figures...
A small object, one that could almost be mistaken for a pebble, was abruptly tossed into the rather noticeable group. The black sphere rolled forward before one edge burst open, a thick grey smoke immediately pouring out of it. As the area began to become filled with a surprising amount of the obscuring substance from such a small thing there was a sudden light that lit up one edge of the smoke, and like that one of the humans dropped like a sack of potatos.
At her side Grim's glove sparked with electricity for another moment as she stepped past the man to one of the bigger shadows in the smoke, the right lens of her goggle lit up with heat optics to find her targets. Another man went down in the confusion, Grim's right hand merely grabbing onto the back of his exposed neck and sending a current of electricity through him.
Oddly enough, she thought there was more before she threw the smoke pellet - but her heat sensor wasn't picking them up.
Clayton swore as he saw the group suddenly enveloped in smoke, his spell releasing in long, dark tendrils of ebony energy that bolted toward the undead as they stumbled with the sudden explosion of smoke. He could hear scuffling, grunts of pain and shouts of alarm as the men and Fae inside were all too happy to blame the other side for a betrayal. Still taken aback but the unexpected asistance, the necromancer pushed himself from the corner and started toward the cloud, keeping at the edge while he willed the undead to turn on the Fae. There was a roar, a sound no human could ever have made as one of the rotting figures sank broken teeth into flesh, and only moments later a body was flying, headless through the cloud as something massive loomed up through the smoke.
It was at least seven feet all, broad as two average men at the shoudlers and rippling with muscle as it threw what was left of the undead's head to follow the rest. Clayton didn't need more than the vague shape of the thing to to recognize a troll freed of it's glamour, it's long, tusked head shaking as it snarled and charged with surpsiring speed for something of it's size at the crowd of Humans that stood before it. It was on what looked like a female figure in an instant, swinging a massive, rubbery-skinned fist at her as it charged like a mad bull, heedless of the second undead chewing at the back of its neck. Clayton sighed, knowing he was going to have to go in himself. He drew his pistol.
To say this wasn't what Grim was expecting when breaking up a seemingly small time drug deal was quite the understatement. Still, her heat sensor did its job as the suddenly very large being appeared in the smoke, towering above the others there. It wasn't hard to see where the thing was going either, and in an instant her hookshot was flying from the wrist of her left glove, attaching to the top of a light located behind her. Just as the creature reached them the wire went taught and pulled her back, allowing Grim to set her feet down on the top of a shipping container.
Grim swore lightly, it rumbling around in her voice modulator. Whatever sparked the sudden increase in abnormalities was causing havoc all over the place, should she even be surprised at the appearance of the ugly beast? Probably not. As her hookshot detached and flew back to her glove Grim raised her other hand, sparks lighting up at her knuckles before two prongs shot out at a high speed to lodge themselves in the chest of the beast, sending a highly charged volt through the small metal pieces. Not content to believe her luck would be enough that that would be the end of it, if it even affected the damn thing at all, Grim quickly shot another set of prongs into the left shoulder, the third and final set loading but staying in her glove at the moment.
The troll barely seemed to notice the the voltage pulsing through those gauntlets, the thick, rubbery hide almost seeming to pop the barbs out as it snarled up at Grim, one hand shooting up to try seizing her by the throat while the other reached back to snatch up the zombie that was still gnawing at it's neck ineffectively. It didn't bother to look at the corpse as it threw it to the ground, nor when it slammed its foot down so far that it almost shattered through the dock itself, bursting the zombie so violently that it's neck exploded in a geyser of blood, like a smashed toothpaste tube. The gangbangers were long gone, fleeing screaming in terror from the monster before them. The troll and a pair of tiny, tan-skinned creatures barely three feet tall and garbed in surely hand-made zoot suits six decades out of style were all that was left of the two groups. One of the tan-skinned little creatures looked up at Grim with a viscious, sharp-toothed grin.
"Mortal, I don't know what you thought you were interupting, but you've picked a terrible enemy. I hope you don't have plans, because you'll suffer for longer than most of your kind. Our lady will extend your life just to make you suffer longer." It hissed the words, starting to reach for a cheap pistol that,for anyone else would have been a club gun, but for this vermin was practically a desert eagle. He didn't get the chance to use, it though, before there was a thunderous boom, and the troll let out a high, bellowing cry as it slumped down to one knee, blood pouring down it's right flank from a fresh gesyer of blood.
"Cold iron!" Clayton Toombs bellowed, turning his hefty .45 and turning on one of the Hobs. It's head burst with the necromancer's second shot, and before it's partner could flee one of the dead gangbangers, his head half-pulverized in the troll's rampage, locked a hand around the second Hob's legs. "You got a knife, anything metal, use it!"
The instant the troll's grip loosened even a fraction, though of course that would happen to anyone who just had a chunk of their side blown away, Grim yanked herself away from its grip and rolled back from the figures. Her chest heaved from the grip that was around her throat, having no doubt it would be bruised before the sun even rose. A line of static ran down the lens of her goggles for just a moment as she took in the scene, and with the two small ... creatures not a threat at the moment focused on the large one. The bellow of another person rang in her ears, and seeing as her defibrillator was ineffective what had she to lose by listening?
Grim's hand dropped to the right side of her belt, fingers deftly pulling out three of the blades. With the precision of two decades of experience the vigilante flicked her hand forward, one of the metal blades shooting forward and lodging deep into the right eye of the troll, slicing through like butter. When its head jerked back Grim slid the second blade into position, and the instant it lowered its head again the second one went sailing forward, just missing the other eye but lodging underneath the socket. It almost felt like overkill with it blinded, but the thing was a monster and needed to be put down, and as such Grim's hookshot once more zipped out to latch onto a shipping container above and behind the troll. The power of the device yanked Grim up, using the momentum to land just on its head. Not planning on staying there long after seeing the spaghetti it made out of one of those men Grim used the third blade, gripped tightly in her hand, and viciously slammed it into the back of the troll's neck so it lodged into the thick spine. Wasting no time to linger and admire her work the vigilante springboarded off the troll's back to land a few feet away, whirling around even as she backed up from the creature. Another blade found its way to her hand as she watched warily, ready for it to keep moving.
Thankfully, the troll was content to lay motionless, blood quickly begining to pool under it's massive frame as it let out a few final, gurgling gasps before it's beady black eyes semed to drift off, staring off into the void. The Hob was whimpering now as it looked between the troll and the nearly headless body of it's partner, struggling weakly against the iron grip of the zombie holding it, dead eyes fixed on the Fae as Clayton approached. He looked over at Grim, tucking his .45 back into his shoulder holster.
"Appreciate the help, looks like you got more than you bargained for out of this, though." He said, nodding to the woman approvingly. "Did way better than most your first time with a troll."
"A troll," Grim responded in turn, the flat tone of her voice audible even through the voice modulator of her mask. It was hard to call him crazy when her knife was currently sticking out the back of the thing's neck, though. Rather than argue the point needlessly the vigilante turned her gaze to the little creature that was threatening her earlier, beginning to idly twirl the blade in her fingers.
"What do you call this one?"
"A Hob." Clayton said as casually as one would discuss a rat, and with the same amount of contempt the average man had for such vermin. The big man glared down at the little Fae, which was biting its lip as it tried to look around for any sort of escape. He smirked. "Nowhere to go. Now what were you buying from those boys, hm?" As he spoke, he reached into the charcol suit jacket again, retrieving a tiny, gleeming needle pinched between two thick fingers. The Hob recoiled from the needle as if it were a cross before Count Dracula himself, trying to scramble back againt the iron-grip of the zombie to no avail. Clayton grinned at Grim.
"Cold iron. Burns through Fae like hellfire." He turned back to the Hob. "Well?"
"We came for banes. These mortal fools have many, but never know what they truely are." The little beast was happy to talk when surrounded by corpses and the threat of that cold iron before his beady little eyes. Clayton's eyes narrowed, and his bald head turned to Grim.
"That case those gangers brought. Check it."
Content to sit back and observe Grim watched the interaction between the 'hob' and mystery man, one of her lenses even swapping to night vision to examine the creature better. As such she glanced up when addressed, only to give a short nod in response. Despite the carnage in the area the case was obvious, Grim padding to it. Her lens swapped to heat optics for a brief moment as she scanned the area for any hidden threats, but finding none kneeled down to work the case open.
The case was easy enough to open, a simple metal briefcase as one often saw in more mundane deals, though the contents were distinctly not the usual stock. The collection of items inside the case was almost random, from mismatched pieces of jewelry to what looked like dead leaves. Clayton stood slowly, looking down into the case with a scowl.
"Well, looks like the Fae isn't lying for once. Good thing you got here before these little assholes got to working their magic on those." He gesture to the case with a boxing-gloved sized mit. "Banes. Objects with magic power in them, just need someone with a certain touch to get the juice flowing." He turned back to his charge.
"Now what were you planning on doing with those, I wonder? Thinking about spreading those around, cursing half the town for giggles?" He knelt down again, holding the needle close to the Hob's face, the tip just touching the creature's nose. It hissed as if it had been bitten by a snake.
"Our Lady commands it of us! She wants the mortals frightened! We...we were to pose in glamours, distribute them!"
"Rile the people up then, maybe get them thinking the fuckers the next neighborhood over are cursing them, eh? Bet you were thinking you could get some riots going if you got real clever with it." He stood again, nodding to the zombie that had been holding the Hob, and without a sound the corpse shakily rose to its feet, holding the little Fae upside with it as shambled over toward the edge of the dock. He didn't turn to watch it stumble off into the water.
"So, forgot my manners. Clayton Toombs." He offered a hand.
It took a moment for the woman to respond, watching after the shambling zombie. Finally she gave a slight shake of her head and turned back to him, almost on well bred instinct taking his hand to be polite.
"Grim," She replied to him, voice rumbling in modulator as she shook his hand. "This has the be the strangest deal I've ever broken up." The vigilante added on, almost musing aloud.
"Still, thank you for your assistance. I'm afraid I was caught rather flat footed."
"Won't be the last either, if this city's luck stays like it has. And everyone's caught off guard the first time they deal with Fae. Heh, just wait until you meet your first rogue Vampire. Those fellas are a bitch and a half." He chuckled, reaching into his jacket again and slipping a half-spent cigar between big, white teeth, looking the woman up and down. "Seems like we're getting more....fashion statements these days. Must come with the superpowers." He himself was in his favorite charcol suit, olive dress shirt and hatch tie, almost able to pass for one o the mobsters that called this dock a place of work in the daytime.
"So...how's it feel stepping into the paranormal for the first time?"
"I'll have you know I've been prowling the streets in a strange mask since some of these new bloods were still playing in sandboxes," Unseen behind said mask a slight grin tugged at Zoey's lips, though some of the light tone was lost to the voice modulator. She could appreciate someone her age combating the things that went bump in the night - so many teenagers have been popping up lately. She dipped her head at his question, hum rumbling in the mask as she glanced around. A zombie's innards splattered all over the dock, an ugly little creature with its head blown off, and the giant corpse of a thing she believed to be mythical up until that night, still with her blade in its neck and the smoke from one of her pellets lingering in the air.
"... Honestly, still not the strangest night I've ever had in Gotham."
"Suppose that is true. Still trying to piece together how the Knights keep losing to the White Sox. Even the Fae can't pull a curse like that." He sighed, obviously a sore spot for him. "But that's a mystery for another day. Now though...I think we might have some poking around to do. Don't bother with phone numbers, better we use...more subtle communication. Just be sure to keep your mind flexible, alright?"
A low chuckle escaped Grim, but she gave a slight nod. It was slightly disconcerting that this man was so confident in being able to find her, but a challenge was always good. As for keeping her mind flexible?
"After the events of the last few months? I don't think that will be a problem."
Now, just to retrieve her knives from the corpse of a troll. What a story to tell Blackstar when she got home.
Friday, March 9th, 2020
Burnley Docks, Gotham City
There five local bulls, three Fae in their assorted glamours and two undead of a sort that Clayton couldn't make out from around the corner he peaked his bulk over. Probably regular old zombies or half-assed flesh golems, if the way they stood almost motionless at the side of one of the toughs were any indication. Both were wrapped up in heavy coats and hoodies in a poor attempt to hide the smell and rotting features, but fooling a necromancer with that sort of trick was a poor gamble. The fact that these gangbangers had any sort of undead at all, though, was concerning for the big man, and he felt his lips press into a thin line as he eyed each and every one of them. They were arguing, or at least the Humans were. These idiots actually thought having a pair of undead would mean shit at all to Fae, figuring they could get a little last minute re-negotiation in over whatever haul had been brought in tonight.
Clayton didn't have any patience for idiots right now, and it looked like the Fae didn't either, one lumbering up to the apparent leader of the gangers as he blustered like a jackass. Almost the time to move in, he thought, eying those undead with a wicked grin. Those kids might not know how to put those monsters to use properly, but Clayton sure did. He started to gather his power, whispering the words as he focused on the pair of smelling figures...
A small object, one that could almost be mistaken for a pebble, was abruptly tossed into the rather noticeable group. The black sphere rolled forward before one edge burst open, a thick grey smoke immediately pouring out of it. As the area began to become filled with a surprising amount of the obscuring substance from such a small thing there was a sudden light that lit up one edge of the smoke, and like that one of the humans dropped like a sack of potatos.
At her side Grim's glove sparked with electricity for another moment as she stepped past the man to one of the bigger shadows in the smoke, the right lens of her goggle lit up with heat optics to find her targets. Another man went down in the confusion, Grim's right hand merely grabbing onto the back of his exposed neck and sending a current of electricity through him.
Oddly enough, she thought there was more before she threw the smoke pellet - but her heat sensor wasn't picking them up.
Clayton swore as he saw the group suddenly enveloped in smoke, his spell releasing in long, dark tendrils of ebony energy that bolted toward the undead as they stumbled with the sudden explosion of smoke. He could hear scuffling, grunts of pain and shouts of alarm as the men and Fae inside were all too happy to blame the other side for a betrayal. Still taken aback but the unexpected asistance, the necromancer pushed himself from the corner and started toward the cloud, keeping at the edge while he willed the undead to turn on the Fae. There was a roar, a sound no human could ever have made as one of the rotting figures sank broken teeth into flesh, and only moments later a body was flying, headless through the cloud as something massive loomed up through the smoke.
It was at least seven feet all, broad as two average men at the shoudlers and rippling with muscle as it threw what was left of the undead's head to follow the rest. Clayton didn't need more than the vague shape of the thing to to recognize a troll freed of it's glamour, it's long, tusked head shaking as it snarled and charged with surpsiring speed for something of it's size at the crowd of Humans that stood before it. It was on what looked like a female figure in an instant, swinging a massive, rubbery-skinned fist at her as it charged like a mad bull, heedless of the second undead chewing at the back of its neck. Clayton sighed, knowing he was going to have to go in himself. He drew his pistol.
To say this wasn't what Grim was expecting when breaking up a seemingly small time drug deal was quite the understatement. Still, her heat sensor did its job as the suddenly very large being appeared in the smoke, towering above the others there. It wasn't hard to see where the thing was going either, and in an instant her hookshot was flying from the wrist of her left glove, attaching to the top of a light located behind her. Just as the creature reached them the wire went taught and pulled her back, allowing Grim to set her feet down on the top of a shipping container.
Grim swore lightly, it rumbling around in her voice modulator. Whatever sparked the sudden increase in abnormalities was causing havoc all over the place, should she even be surprised at the appearance of the ugly beast? Probably not. As her hookshot detached and flew back to her glove Grim raised her other hand, sparks lighting up at her knuckles before two prongs shot out at a high speed to lodge themselves in the chest of the beast, sending a highly charged volt through the small metal pieces. Not content to believe her luck would be enough that that would be the end of it, if it even affected the damn thing at all, Grim quickly shot another set of prongs into the left shoulder, the third and final set loading but staying in her glove at the moment.
The troll barely seemed to notice the the voltage pulsing through those gauntlets, the thick, rubbery hide almost seeming to pop the barbs out as it snarled up at Grim, one hand shooting up to try seizing her by the throat while the other reached back to snatch up the zombie that was still gnawing at it's neck ineffectively. It didn't bother to look at the corpse as it threw it to the ground, nor when it slammed its foot down so far that it almost shattered through the dock itself, bursting the zombie so violently that it's neck exploded in a geyser of blood, like a smashed toothpaste tube. The gangbangers were long gone, fleeing screaming in terror from the monster before them. The troll and a pair of tiny, tan-skinned creatures barely three feet tall and garbed in surely hand-made zoot suits six decades out of style were all that was left of the two groups. One of the tan-skinned little creatures looked up at Grim with a viscious, sharp-toothed grin.
"Mortal, I don't know what you thought you were interupting, but you've picked a terrible enemy. I hope you don't have plans, because you'll suffer for longer than most of your kind. Our lady will extend your life just to make you suffer longer." It hissed the words, starting to reach for a cheap pistol that,for anyone else would have been a club gun, but for this vermin was practically a desert eagle. He didn't get the chance to use, it though, before there was a thunderous boom, and the troll let out a high, bellowing cry as it slumped down to one knee, blood pouring down it's right flank from a fresh gesyer of blood.
"Cold iron!" Clayton Toombs bellowed, turning his hefty .45 and turning on one of the Hobs. It's head burst with the necromancer's second shot, and before it's partner could flee one of the dead gangbangers, his head half-pulverized in the troll's rampage, locked a hand around the second Hob's legs. "You got a knife, anything metal, use it!"
The instant the troll's grip loosened even a fraction, though of course that would happen to anyone who just had a chunk of their side blown away, Grim yanked herself away from its grip and rolled back from the figures. Her chest heaved from the grip that was around her throat, having no doubt it would be bruised before the sun even rose. A line of static ran down the lens of her goggles for just a moment as she took in the scene, and with the two small ... creatures not a threat at the moment focused on the large one. The bellow of another person rang in her ears, and seeing as her defibrillator was ineffective what had she to lose by listening?
Grim's hand dropped to the right side of her belt, fingers deftly pulling out three of the blades. With the precision of two decades of experience the vigilante flicked her hand forward, one of the metal blades shooting forward and lodging deep into the right eye of the troll, slicing through like butter. When its head jerked back Grim slid the second blade into position, and the instant it lowered its head again the second one went sailing forward, just missing the other eye but lodging underneath the socket. It almost felt like overkill with it blinded, but the thing was a monster and needed to be put down, and as such Grim's hookshot once more zipped out to latch onto a shipping container above and behind the troll. The power of the device yanked Grim up, using the momentum to land just on its head. Not planning on staying there long after seeing the spaghetti it made out of one of those men Grim used the third blade, gripped tightly in her hand, and viciously slammed it into the back of the troll's neck so it lodged into the thick spine. Wasting no time to linger and admire her work the vigilante springboarded off the troll's back to land a few feet away, whirling around even as she backed up from the creature. Another blade found its way to her hand as she watched warily, ready for it to keep moving.
Thankfully, the troll was content to lay motionless, blood quickly begining to pool under it's massive frame as it let out a few final, gurgling gasps before it's beady black eyes semed to drift off, staring off into the void. The Hob was whimpering now as it looked between the troll and the nearly headless body of it's partner, struggling weakly against the iron grip of the zombie holding it, dead eyes fixed on the Fae as Clayton approached. He looked over at Grim, tucking his .45 back into his shoulder holster.
"Appreciate the help, looks like you got more than you bargained for out of this, though." He said, nodding to the woman approvingly. "Did way better than most your first time with a troll."
"A troll," Grim responded in turn, the flat tone of her voice audible even through the voice modulator of her mask. It was hard to call him crazy when her knife was currently sticking out the back of the thing's neck, though. Rather than argue the point needlessly the vigilante turned her gaze to the little creature that was threatening her earlier, beginning to idly twirl the blade in her fingers.
"What do you call this one?"
"A Hob." Clayton said as casually as one would discuss a rat, and with the same amount of contempt the average man had for such vermin. The big man glared down at the little Fae, which was biting its lip as it tried to look around for any sort of escape. He smirked. "Nowhere to go. Now what were you buying from those boys, hm?" As he spoke, he reached into the charcol suit jacket again, retrieving a tiny, gleeming needle pinched between two thick fingers. The Hob recoiled from the needle as if it were a cross before Count Dracula himself, trying to scramble back againt the iron-grip of the zombie to no avail. Clayton grinned at Grim.
"Cold iron. Burns through Fae like hellfire." He turned back to the Hob. "Well?"
"We came for banes. These mortal fools have many, but never know what they truely are." The little beast was happy to talk when surrounded by corpses and the threat of that cold iron before his beady little eyes. Clayton's eyes narrowed, and his bald head turned to Grim.
"That case those gangers brought. Check it."
Content to sit back and observe Grim watched the interaction between the 'hob' and mystery man, one of her lenses even swapping to night vision to examine the creature better. As such she glanced up when addressed, only to give a short nod in response. Despite the carnage in the area the case was obvious, Grim padding to it. Her lens swapped to heat optics for a brief moment as she scanned the area for any hidden threats, but finding none kneeled down to work the case open.
The case was easy enough to open, a simple metal briefcase as one often saw in more mundane deals, though the contents were distinctly not the usual stock. The collection of items inside the case was almost random, from mismatched pieces of jewelry to what looked like dead leaves. Clayton stood slowly, looking down into the case with a scowl.
"Well, looks like the Fae isn't lying for once. Good thing you got here before these little assholes got to working their magic on those." He gesture to the case with a boxing-gloved sized mit. "Banes. Objects with magic power in them, just need someone with a certain touch to get the juice flowing." He turned back to his charge.
"Now what were you planning on doing with those, I wonder? Thinking about spreading those around, cursing half the town for giggles?" He knelt down again, holding the needle close to the Hob's face, the tip just touching the creature's nose. It hissed as if it had been bitten by a snake.
"Our Lady commands it of us! She wants the mortals frightened! We...we were to pose in glamours, distribute them!"
"Rile the people up then, maybe get them thinking the fuckers the next neighborhood over are cursing them, eh? Bet you were thinking you could get some riots going if you got real clever with it." He stood again, nodding to the zombie that had been holding the Hob, and without a sound the corpse shakily rose to its feet, holding the little Fae upside with it as shambled over toward the edge of the dock. He didn't turn to watch it stumble off into the water.
"So, forgot my manners. Clayton Toombs." He offered a hand.
It took a moment for the woman to respond, watching after the shambling zombie. Finally she gave a slight shake of her head and turned back to him, almost on well bred instinct taking his hand to be polite.
"Grim," She replied to him, voice rumbling in modulator as she shook his hand. "This has the be the strangest deal I've ever broken up." The vigilante added on, almost musing aloud.
"Still, thank you for your assistance. I'm afraid I was caught rather flat footed."
"Won't be the last either, if this city's luck stays like it has. And everyone's caught off guard the first time they deal with Fae. Heh, just wait until you meet your first rogue Vampire. Those fellas are a bitch and a half." He chuckled, reaching into his jacket again and slipping a half-spent cigar between big, white teeth, looking the woman up and down. "Seems like we're getting more....fashion statements these days. Must come with the superpowers." He himself was in his favorite charcol suit, olive dress shirt and hatch tie, almost able to pass for one o the mobsters that called this dock a place of work in the daytime.
"So...how's it feel stepping into the paranormal for the first time?"
"I'll have you know I've been prowling the streets in a strange mask since some of these new bloods were still playing in sandboxes," Unseen behind said mask a slight grin tugged at Zoey's lips, though some of the light tone was lost to the voice modulator. She could appreciate someone her age combating the things that went bump in the night - so many teenagers have been popping up lately. She dipped her head at his question, hum rumbling in the mask as she glanced around. A zombie's innards splattered all over the dock, an ugly little creature with its head blown off, and the giant corpse of a thing she believed to be mythical up until that night, still with her blade in its neck and the smoke from one of her pellets lingering in the air.
"... Honestly, still not the strangest night I've ever had in Gotham."
"Suppose that is true. Still trying to piece together how the Knights keep losing to the White Sox. Even the Fae can't pull a curse like that." He sighed, obviously a sore spot for him. "But that's a mystery for another day. Now though...I think we might have some poking around to do. Don't bother with phone numbers, better we use...more subtle communication. Just be sure to keep your mind flexible, alright?"
A low chuckle escaped Grim, but she gave a slight nod. It was slightly disconcerting that this man was so confident in being able to find her, but a challenge was always good. As for keeping her mind flexible?
"After the events of the last few months? I don't think that will be a problem."
Now, just to retrieve her knives from the corpse of a troll. What a story to tell Blackstar when she got home.
9:56 AM, December 3rd
Unknown Location
For a long moment both men stared at the girl in a woman's body, brows raised as she listed off the facts about herself that to anyone else would have seemed trivial, almost childish the way it sounded close to a schoolgirl's introduction, which, really, it was. Then, with a sound that almost seemed alien for their surroundings, The Master laughed. It was a joyous sound, without the faintest hint of mockery or derision, just pure joy at an earnestness that the man hadn't seen in so long that he barely recognized it. He rose, striding toward Karen purposefully as he looked her squarely in the eye. His smile never faded.
"Not quite the answer that I expected, but better than I had hoped. It is an honor, Karen, I can see why you were thought worthy of this power." He clasped a hand down on Karen's shoulder, nodding to her slowly. He nodded toward Clayton, who immediately set to dumping more salt onto the ground around them, drawing a series of those intricate arcane symbols. The salt solidified into a mirror three feet across and six feet tall, standing in an instant and coming a stop before The Master and Karen. The old man turned to face that mirror, gesturing for Karen to do the same. There were at least two dozen faces in the mirror, focus switching between speakers in quick bursts before they all fell silent a moment later. Everyone knew to shut up when The Master spoke.
"My friends, students, I know you are all wondering at the reason for the explosions of power from the laylines. I have your answer here. I stand here with the next wielder of Shazam's power. Karen Hernandez, I recognize you as The Wizard's heir, and I welcome you."
There was a chorus of greetings, deferential, some indignant, a few with barely contained outrage, but all were kept civil when The Master recognized the person as a friend. Whether that would change if she met any of them in person was yet to be known, but Clayton at least seemed just as satisfied as his mentor.
"Be ready to guide her if and when you can, and the other champions when they become known to us. A new time of heroes is upon us, and the dangers to come will be fit to match them." He turned then to Karen, another short nod. "These will be trying times, but I trust you know will be able to meet them. For now though, rest. Clayton with take you back home."
With that the mirror's polished surface grew dull, and clattered to the floor as the magic left it. Clayton simply nodded and gestured for Karen and Samantha to follow him. He almost absently slipped his cigar between his teeth as he started up the stairs.
"Gonna be a real interesting change in times. Pretty soon we're not gonna be able to keep a lid of this sorta thing anymore. Hope you're ready for it all."
Unknown Location
For a long moment both men stared at the girl in a woman's body, brows raised as she listed off the facts about herself that to anyone else would have seemed trivial, almost childish the way it sounded close to a schoolgirl's introduction, which, really, it was. Then, with a sound that almost seemed alien for their surroundings, The Master laughed. It was a joyous sound, without the faintest hint of mockery or derision, just pure joy at an earnestness that the man hadn't seen in so long that he barely recognized it. He rose, striding toward Karen purposefully as he looked her squarely in the eye. His smile never faded.
"Not quite the answer that I expected, but better than I had hoped. It is an honor, Karen, I can see why you were thought worthy of this power." He clasped a hand down on Karen's shoulder, nodding to her slowly. He nodded toward Clayton, who immediately set to dumping more salt onto the ground around them, drawing a series of those intricate arcane symbols. The salt solidified into a mirror three feet across and six feet tall, standing in an instant and coming a stop before The Master and Karen. The old man turned to face that mirror, gesturing for Karen to do the same. There were at least two dozen faces in the mirror, focus switching between speakers in quick bursts before they all fell silent a moment later. Everyone knew to shut up when The Master spoke.
"My friends, students, I know you are all wondering at the reason for the explosions of power from the laylines. I have your answer here. I stand here with the next wielder of Shazam's power. Karen Hernandez, I recognize you as The Wizard's heir, and I welcome you."
There was a chorus of greetings, deferential, some indignant, a few with barely contained outrage, but all were kept civil when The Master recognized the person as a friend. Whether that would change if she met any of them in person was yet to be known, but Clayton at least seemed just as satisfied as his mentor.
"Be ready to guide her if and when you can, and the other champions when they become known to us. A new time of heroes is upon us, and the dangers to come will be fit to match them." He turned then to Karen, another short nod. "These will be trying times, but I trust you know will be able to meet them. For now though, rest. Clayton with take you back home."
With that the mirror's polished surface grew dull, and clattered to the floor as the magic left it. Clayton simply nodded and gestured for Karen and Samantha to follow him. He almost absently slipped his cigar between his teeth as he started up the stairs.
"Gonna be a real interesting change in times. Pretty soon we're not gonna be able to keep a lid of this sorta thing anymore. Hope you're ready for it all."
9:56 AM, December 3rd
Unknown Location
"A noble goal, one that I can respect, laud." The Master said with a slow nod, and perhaps a smile of approval as he leaned back again, the braziers flanking his throne changing from their purple flames to a light cyan blue. His tone was kind, understanding, but held a slight edge of concern. Clayton was looking at Karen with a smirk of his own, not mocking but with a slight edge to it that said that he'd heard the speech a few times before. The Master's smile was gone a moment later, though, his face taking on an impassive expression as he leaned forward in his seat. "But also one that can easily lead to great terrors. Even I and my forebears cannot recall all the tales of heroes who sought only to aid their fellow man, to protect their world, only to become dictators when those desires grew to their most extreme conclusion. You are not the first to possess the power of Gods and Champions, and others before you have abused that power in the name of law and justice."
"Seen a lotta people without magic skip down the road to hell with good intentions in hand." Clayton chimed, nodding at his mentor's assessment. He turned back to Karen then, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Course, from what I saw you do in Berlin, I'm inclined to believe you're the real deal right now. I'd ask you to knock some of those commie and anarchist thugs around too, but that'd be making The Master's point for him."
On cue the old sighed faintly, then chuckled at his student. Some things never did change, but those were what made a Human what they were.
"Some of my students never smooth out all their edges." The eyes were back on Karen. "I am not saying that I believe you are doomed to follow the path of others, but I cannot know you will not either. That is why I have asked for you to be here. I would know you, Karen, so that I might set a worried heart at ease. At my age, I don't need much more. Please, show me that you are speaking the truth. I would welcome a true hero in these times."
Unknown Location
"A noble goal, one that I can respect, laud." The Master said with a slow nod, and perhaps a smile of approval as he leaned back again, the braziers flanking his throne changing from their purple flames to a light cyan blue. His tone was kind, understanding, but held a slight edge of concern. Clayton was looking at Karen with a smirk of his own, not mocking but with a slight edge to it that said that he'd heard the speech a few times before. The Master's smile was gone a moment later, though, his face taking on an impassive expression as he leaned forward in his seat. "But also one that can easily lead to great terrors. Even I and my forebears cannot recall all the tales of heroes who sought only to aid their fellow man, to protect their world, only to become dictators when those desires grew to their most extreme conclusion. You are not the first to possess the power of Gods and Champions, and others before you have abused that power in the name of law and justice."
"Seen a lotta people without magic skip down the road to hell with good intentions in hand." Clayton chimed, nodding at his mentor's assessment. He turned back to Karen then, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Course, from what I saw you do in Berlin, I'm inclined to believe you're the real deal right now. I'd ask you to knock some of those commie and anarchist thugs around too, but that'd be making The Master's point for him."
On cue the old sighed faintly, then chuckled at his student. Some things never did change, but those were what made a Human what they were.
"Some of my students never smooth out all their edges." The eyes were back on Karen. "I am not saying that I believe you are doomed to follow the path of others, but I cannot know you will not either. That is why I have asked for you to be here. I would know you, Karen, so that I might set a worried heart at ease. At my age, I don't need much more. Please, show me that you are speaking the truth. I would welcome a true hero in these times."
9:54 AM, December 3rd
Unknown Location
@Blackstripe
"An obvious point, I'm aware, but one that must be made, especially considering the nature of your powers." The Master said, nodding to Karen as he continued to look over her face. For a long moment he merely stood there, examining the girl in the form of a grown woman, before he nodded slowly and turned from her, starting toward his throne. In an instant the bearded man was gone, replaced by a tall, slim elderly man, Black with a thin, steel gray mustache and hair pulled into a short ponytail so tightly that it seemed to tug at the corners of his eyes, which bored into Karen even from the twenty foot distance between them.
"I apologize for not apporaching you myself, but I needed to know your character. Sending my student, seeing how you reacted to him and his request, it gave me some slight insight, but now I require a fuller picture." He spoke with a tone surprisingly strong for a figure of his body's apparent age, leaning back into the throne and making a pyramid of his boney fingers. Clayton, meanwhile, was knelt before the man in reverence, head kept low. The Master merely smiled.
"Rise, Clayton, I thought we were past such formality." The big man rose then, seeming just a little sheepish at that. No matter how much his teacher might have discouraged it, he never could stop thinking of the man as a second father after all he had done for him, how he'd taught him and taken him in at his lowest point. The Master turned back then to face Karen. "I see from your face that you are unaware of the nature of your powers. I will not obfuscate it; You are blessed by gods and champions. Do you wonder why you must shout 'Shazam!' to take your form? It is because of the beings that have lent their power to you. Selene, Hermes, Alceus, Zeus, Atlas, Mnemosyne. You have been granted their might because someone deemed you worthy of carrying on their power. My question, though, is what you will do with it?"
Unknown Location
@Blackstripe
"An obvious point, I'm aware, but one that must be made, especially considering the nature of your powers." The Master said, nodding to Karen as he continued to look over her face. For a long moment he merely stood there, examining the girl in the form of a grown woman, before he nodded slowly and turned from her, starting toward his throne. In an instant the bearded man was gone, replaced by a tall, slim elderly man, Black with a thin, steel gray mustache and hair pulled into a short ponytail so tightly that it seemed to tug at the corners of his eyes, which bored into Karen even from the twenty foot distance between them.
"I apologize for not apporaching you myself, but I needed to know your character. Sending my student, seeing how you reacted to him and his request, it gave me some slight insight, but now I require a fuller picture." He spoke with a tone surprisingly strong for a figure of his body's apparent age, leaning back into the throne and making a pyramid of his boney fingers. Clayton, meanwhile, was knelt before the man in reverence, head kept low. The Master merely smiled.
"Rise, Clayton, I thought we were past such formality." The big man rose then, seeming just a little sheepish at that. No matter how much his teacher might have discouraged it, he never could stop thinking of the man as a second father after all he had done for him, how he'd taught him and taken him in at his lowest point. The Master turned back then to face Karen. "I see from your face that you are unaware of the nature of your powers. I will not obfuscate it; You are blessed by gods and champions. Do you wonder why you must shout 'Shazam!' to take your form? It is because of the beings that have lent their power to you. Selene, Hermes, Alceus, Zeus, Atlas, Mnemosyne. You have been granted their might because someone deemed you worthy of carrying on their power. My question, though, is what you will do with it?"
9:51 AM, December 3rd
Unknown Location
@Blackstripe
The staircase was long, winding, sometimes seeming to defy logic with their spiraling nature, the air around them deathly silent and cool. There was no question they weren't in the mortal plane any more, the trio surrounded by inky black skies and a thin, ghostly fog that seemed to caress each of them curiously before dissipating around them, almost as if it were a sentient being sizing up intruders into it's territory. Clayton didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it all, and in fact seemed to look almost nostalgic about his surroundings as he stepped heavily down the stairs.
"When you meet him, keep your eyes forward, look him in the face. He may or may not look like a Human when you see him, so don't be too surprised if you see a...I dunno, cerberus, or a friggin' cthuluoid space monster. He likes to make points." He said, not looking back at either Karen or Samantha, his eyes focused down the stairs, at the singular truly colorful spot in this plane. It was circular, covered in a wide, bright red rug that stretched out at least 100 feet, a golden throne adored with cushions of the same blood red as the rug. A pair of golden braziers flanked the throne, pink flames roaring in the bowls as the three approached the man in the throne.
The figure was a tall, stocky, White and sporting a truly massive brown beard, with clothes that clearly didn't belong in that century. His fingers were steepled as he looked over them all, his eyes fixing on Karen after he'd offered polite nods to Samantha and Clayton. When he spoke, it was almost as if his beard moved rather than his lips, it was so thick.
"I cannot accept your canon that we are to judge Pope and king unlike other men, with a favorable presumption that they can do no wrong. If there is any assumption, it is the other way, against the holders of power, increasing as the power increases. Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority, still more when you superadd the tendency or the certainty of corruption by authority. History shows the greatest names are coupled with the greatest crimes." He spoke the words like scripture, rising up from his throne and starting towards the trio, straight toward Karen with his eyes fixed on her face, as if he were trying to peer into her very soul. He stopped three feet in front of her.
"Do you understand why you are here?"
Unknown Location
@Blackstripe
The staircase was long, winding, sometimes seeming to defy logic with their spiraling nature, the air around them deathly silent and cool. There was no question they weren't in the mortal plane any more, the trio surrounded by inky black skies and a thin, ghostly fog that seemed to caress each of them curiously before dissipating around them, almost as if it were a sentient being sizing up intruders into it's territory. Clayton didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it all, and in fact seemed to look almost nostalgic about his surroundings as he stepped heavily down the stairs.
"When you meet him, keep your eyes forward, look him in the face. He may or may not look like a Human when you see him, so don't be too surprised if you see a...I dunno, cerberus, or a friggin' cthuluoid space monster. He likes to make points." He said, not looking back at either Karen or Samantha, his eyes focused down the stairs, at the singular truly colorful spot in this plane. It was circular, covered in a wide, bright red rug that stretched out at least 100 feet, a golden throne adored with cushions of the same blood red as the rug. A pair of golden braziers flanked the throne, pink flames roaring in the bowls as the three approached the man in the throne.
The figure was a tall, stocky, White and sporting a truly massive brown beard, with clothes that clearly didn't belong in that century. His fingers were steepled as he looked over them all, his eyes fixing on Karen after he'd offered polite nods to Samantha and Clayton. When he spoke, it was almost as if his beard moved rather than his lips, it was so thick.
"I cannot accept your canon that we are to judge Pope and king unlike other men, with a favorable presumption that they can do no wrong. If there is any assumption, it is the other way, against the holders of power, increasing as the power increases. Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority, still more when you superadd the tendency or the certainty of corruption by authority. History shows the greatest names are coupled with the greatest crimes." He spoke the words like scripture, rising up from his throne and starting towards the trio, straight toward Karen with his eyes fixed on her face, as if he were trying to peer into her very soul. He stopped three feet in front of her.
"Do you understand why you are here?"
9:43 AM, December 3rd
The Wedge; Hub City
@Blackstripe
Clayton nodded over to Samantha, reaching into his jacket pocket for a moment and removing the heavy bag of salt he'd brought along. The cat was clever, and if it knew The Master then this would probably go a lot easier than he had figured. He stood then, opening up the enormous zip-lock bag and starting toward the largest empty spot in the kitchen.
"Of course. Would be rude of me to show up uninvited and without the proper tools." He said before dumping the contents of the bag onto the floor. Without a further word he knelt down and began to draw with a thick finger in the pile of salt. It was delicate work, creating the spell for teleportation, but he was well practiced at it. A square, then a circle, a triangle, another square and another triangle later the intricate spell was complete. He smiled back at the two, pressing two fingers against the inner triangle. The salt suddenly solidified, forming a surface of what looked like gleaming, wet obsidian, and it began to collapse into a flight of stairs down into inky blackness, fog sifting up through the portal.
"Right this way, ladies." He said with a faint smirk, and then started down the stairs.
The Wedge; Hub City
@Blackstripe
Clayton nodded over to Samantha, reaching into his jacket pocket for a moment and removing the heavy bag of salt he'd brought along. The cat was clever, and if it knew The Master then this would probably go a lot easier than he had figured. He stood then, opening up the enormous zip-lock bag and starting toward the largest empty spot in the kitchen.
"Of course. Would be rude of me to show up uninvited and without the proper tools." He said before dumping the contents of the bag onto the floor. Without a further word he knelt down and began to draw with a thick finger in the pile of salt. It was delicate work, creating the spell for teleportation, but he was well practiced at it. A square, then a circle, a triangle, another square and another triangle later the intricate spell was complete. He smiled back at the two, pressing two fingers against the inner triangle. The salt suddenly solidified, forming a surface of what looked like gleaming, wet obsidian, and it began to collapse into a flight of stairs down into inky blackness, fog sifting up through the portal.
"Right this way, ladies." He said with a faint smirk, and then started down the stairs.
9:43 AM, December 3rd
The Wedge; Hub City
@Blackstripe
"Ma'am." Clayton said the cat, completely unphased by the animal talking to him. Familiars were one of the first things a mage got to learning about when one entered the world of magic, and while many liked to have them about, Clayton himself preferred a normal, non-sapient dog. Buck, his American Bulldog, was smart enough not to talk. The big man stepped politely into the kitchen as he looked around the apartment, though from the look of things it appeared to be nothing but a normal lower-class tenement. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs, which creaked under his weight.
"Creamer and two sugars, please." The necromancer leaned back and looked up at the pair, watching them wearily watching him while he tried to look as peaceful as possible. "Apologies for the unexpected visit. Now as you probably guessed I'm also a magical sort, specifically a student of The Master. Now to spare you the pretenses, I'm here because he's taken notice of you after your heroics out in Germany." He paused for a moment to take his coffee gratefully, smiling as warmly as he could and taking a sip.
"He's impressed with your ability and courage, but...I'm sure you know the saying about absolute power. He wants to know about you, learn your character, if that makes sense."
The Wedge; Hub City
@Blackstripe
"Ma'am." Clayton said the cat, completely unphased by the animal talking to him. Familiars were one of the first things a mage got to learning about when one entered the world of magic, and while many liked to have them about, Clayton himself preferred a normal, non-sapient dog. Buck, his American Bulldog, was smart enough not to talk. The big man stepped politely into the kitchen as he looked around the apartment, though from the look of things it appeared to be nothing but a normal lower-class tenement. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs, which creaked under his weight.
"Creamer and two sugars, please." The necromancer leaned back and looked up at the pair, watching them wearily watching him while he tried to look as peaceful as possible. "Apologies for the unexpected visit. Now as you probably guessed I'm also a magical sort, specifically a student of The Master. Now to spare you the pretenses, I'm here because he's taken notice of you after your heroics out in Germany." He paused for a moment to take his coffee gratefully, smiling as warmly as he could and taking a sip.
"He's impressed with your ability and courage, but...I'm sure you know the saying about absolute power. He wants to know about you, learn your character, if that makes sense."
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