Gotham Ghosts (M&M2e) [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

Spartan Altego

2013-07-17, 09:34 PM

This is Hilary Jasmine standing in for Jack Kingsley on Dateline Gotham, and welcome to the show! Early this morning, the startling development in the Cletus Kassidy case resulted in an ultimate verdict of not-guilty by reason of mental illness has resulted in a public outcry. Many have spoken out to both the public and this very news-station as wishing to have the jury reconsider it's decision-by force if necessary. Gotham PD Commissioner has issued a response to these threats, declaring that the public's opinion on legal matters has no bearing on the validity of the court's verdict, and that any action taken against those responsible for it would be met with a strong police response. In other news, Senator Robert Kelly has proposed his Metahuman Registration Act in the wake of the vigilante known as Superman's recent-"

Farhad Najafi

The boat creaks uneasily as he hauls himself inside, closing the heavy iron door behind him and spinning the wheel controlling the three deadbolts on the entrance until it locked. Farhad drops the heavy black duffle-bag hanging from his shoulder to the wood floor carelessly. His mattress gives a squeak as his sits down on it, his right shoulder and face screeching in dull agony. The Gotham chill seeps in through the taped shut windows of his home, goosebumps still raised from his recent ventures outside.

George Highlicht's body had been recovered from the fires of his boat, according to Wilson, Nadine's until recently pimp had informed him as he was paid, the fruits of his labor now lying in a morgue in some dump and in the bag lying conspicuously on the floor. Cash-only, with a total of $1,800 in payment, as agreed. His shoulder pulses with pain even as he looks at it. The man had been grateful for his solution to the problem, even if Nadine had not survived.

All that was left for him now, it seemed, was time. It was late, and he had some wounds to attend to.

The Vigil

Gotham's winter chill bites into his skin through the thin material of his suit, but does not reach his core. He isn't like the rest of humanity below him on this frozen winter night, keeping their coats tightly closed or their car's climate control blasting heat as best they can to stay warm. He is...better, he supposed. More adaptable.

He's floating among the clouds, watching from above as the tiny lives and lights of Gotham move about below him, streaks of Gotham's deep crimson sky peeking through the gigantic storm clouds that rained cold snow down on the city and all it's people. The light of Gotham's sky bathes him in a bloody aura, a misleading effect for those who saw the man called Vigil. An alien, a son, a man, and maybe someday soon, a hero. And in a place like Gotham, at least, they never stopped giving you chances to be one.

Lila Nagi

"Lilaaaaa!" Her mother's voice calls up from the bottom of the stairs, her voice carrying through the door of the young Muted child and into the girl's ears. "Come and eat! Dinner's ready!"

It had been only an hour since Lila's departure and return from the Narrows, yet already she could feel the smallest tugs of hunger nibbling at her mind as she heard the word of her adoptive mother. Both kinds of hunger. The emotionless man she had drained had only barely provided enough sustenance to sustain herself on for the next twenty-four hours, but however filling it may've been in truth, it may as well have been a box of bland, stale crackers in terms of psychological fill.

She was still hungry, and she doubted whatever assuredly delicious supper her mother had provided would be sufficient to cure her more diverse palette.

Briony Irving

The wind howls from outside her locked windows, the glass long since fogged from the warmth of the flames in the fire-place that was left situated in the living room of the three-room apartment. The fire, in this case, originating from a very different source than one might expect at first glance. If the onyx black coloring didn't give that aspect away, that is. The true source of the unusual heat lies in the hands of one petite, dark haired girl, who tosses the flames between her open palms with an air of deceptive laziness. Beside her stands another sight of a much different sort. Clad in the black armor of the Archdevils of Baalor, it towers over the girl at a startling seven feet in height, watching cautiously as the girl flicks the black heat into the wood-free fireplace.

"Your hellfire manipulation is coming along well enough," The black armored Devil notes, a touch of pleased wistfulness in his voice. "Though we need to work on the strength of your fire more. It's far too weak to be of any real use against anything actually dangerous. Still, you've progressed well enough that I think you should find victory secured against any normal human of this dimension. So it's a start."

babel_matrix

2013-07-18, 11:34 AM

The Vigil's skin, morphed into tiny, black scales in the emulation of tights, was utterly black against the sky above, save for the silvery "V" that reached from the bottom of his abs to the tops of his shoulders.

The "tights" covered his entire body, with his hands and feet terminating in angular, silver gloves and boots. The rim of the metallic outfit was cut short just as the crest of his shoulders reached his neck, upon which sat the face and hair that was a composition of three middle-aged men he saw on his way home that day.

The lights of Gotham were beautiful from his point of view, but they only made the darkness more impressive. The black of the roofs, of neighborhoods temporarily turned dark due to rolling black-outs, of streets too poorly lit by street lamps older than the residents who depended on them, all whispered of the heart of the darkness at the city's core, from which obsidian blood poured out to drown the innocent. The Vigil was fortunate to have grown up in a decent neighorhood, only ever witnessing a crime three times in his life before he moved to Metropolis for college. But from here, he could see how much of the city he never knew, never experienced.

Those fortunate, safe days ended today.

He changed his skin and appearance once he was safely in between two buildings in the Narrows, ignoring the stench he found there. Once he was satisfied that no one occupied the space, he took a few moments and focused on shifting into his "bait" form: a well-to-do businessman, wearing a closed trench coat, (to hide his spandex underwear,) some glasses, and a thinner, meek-looking equivalent of the one he constructed just minutes ago. A golden Rolex grew on the skin of his wrist, and his bare toes took on the polished leather of up-town footwear.

It was time to get lost in the part of town his parents always warned him about.

Steel Mirror

2013-07-18, 12:26 PM

Farhad winces as he checks his cheek gingerly with his finger. It is covered in caked, dried blood, some of it actually frozen from the bitter cold outside. He is sure that he looks terrible, though he has no way to quickly check for himself. He has long since removed any reflective surface he could from his boat-no mirrors, no glass that he hasn't smudged with a patina of obscuring engine grease. There is plenty of lore about creatures using reflections as gateways into the mortal realm, and though Farhad has never encountered one, personally, he isn't about to let his first experience with one be when it explodes out of his bathroom mirror and rips him apart while he's taking a piss.

He idly checks his security displays as he shuffles toward the aft starboard quarter of the boat's bedroom, which is his makeshift medical ward. That is to say, it's where he keeps his pair of oversize medical kits and some everclear, and he tends to keep it less dirty than the rest of his boat.

His not-quite-so-stringent sanitary procedures have been compromised, however, by one of the ship's other denizens. "Geroff," he mutters to the cat sleeping on his medical kit, and gives it a gentle shove. It flops over with a desultory growl, but can't be bothered to make a more decisive display of its displeasure. It promptly falls asleep again, lying on its back with its feet in the air like fuzzy, grumpy roadkill.

Farhad sighs, and gathers up the supplies he is going to need. "If it weren't for the fact that you've been defending the boat while I was gone, I would be wondering why I bother to feed your flea-bitten carcass." The cat snores at him.

The cats are another security measure. Like with the mirrors, he has never seen the faerie creatures that the cats are meant to defend his abode from, nor any sign that they exist, but he sees that as a good sign. The cats must be doing their job.

He plops in front of one of his computer displays, and orients the camera nearby on his face. When the screen blinks to life, showing his cut up face, he grimaces. This sure isn't going to help him with his job interview later on. People don't usually demand that their janitors are pretty, but they might ask questions about a wound that looked like it was made by a surgical instrument, and he really needs some supplementary income to keep his side projects going.

Farhad sets about the unpleasant business of cleaning his nasty face wound, trying to ignore the twinging in his shoulder from where it was treated less-than-gently. He gets his face wrapped up, but it doesn't look pretty. He pops a few pills for the pain (muttering a prayer in apology- technically Allah has no problem with mind-altering drugs used for legitimate medical purposes, but he still feels guilty for using them, and takes about 75% of the proper dose just in case).

His work with the last case isn't over yet, either. George may have been possessed by a demon, but that doesn't account for his unexpectedly expensive digs. Could be that he just stole it, or that some other victim provided a windfall. Or it could be that there is more to this case than meets the eye.

And call him paranoid (not a stretch), but Farhad isn't 100% confident in the medical examiner's ability to pronounce death for a possessing spirit. He is going to want to get a good look at that corpse just in case, and maybe he'll get lucky and find some more clues about this case.

How did George Highlicht become a cannibal killer? Where did his money come from, and his equipment? And where could Farhad get another cup of coffee?

With the painkillers taking hold, and his wounds at least temporarily dressed, he rises, and gathers a new coat, a pack of cigarettes, and a few extraneous articles of clothing for use later on. He checks the cats' water and food, then prepares to head back into the chill night and chase down the truth.
Medicine:[roll0]

Tell me if I should make any more rolls.

Space Lawyer

2013-07-18, 01:40 PM

Lila

Lila comes bouncing out of her bedroom, where she had been sitting in the bay window looking out over the tiny yard. It was such a different sight than the dreary Narrows, rows of immaculately manicured flowers bisected by the red-brick walkway, hemmed in by the wrought iron fence. When these townhouses had first been built some ninety years ago, they had all looked the same, but the near-century of inhabitation had brought individual character to each.

The sharp smell of spices floats through the house. Mama was making kebabs tonight. Lila's tiny stomach growled, but she kept to the more usual form of movement despite her haste. Mama didn't like Lila teleporting in the house, given the short distance involved. Lila quickly skids and skips down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Basma had already set out the meal. The girl swings into the chair, her feet only just scraping the floor.

Astro_sol

2013-07-18, 05:18 PM

Briony looked up at her towering companion, her expression confused. These flames were exceedingly dangerous, capable of burning flesh down to the bone. Heck, it would probably burn the bones to a crisp, too. The thought of using it against a human gave her the shivers, but all she had to do was remember the night everything had changed...

"Well, it's not my favorite spell," she allowed, letting a small smile touch her features. "I wanted to learn something a little less lethal, but..." She remembered that her only real "non-lethal" spell worked by inducing ungodly amounts of pain. She'd never felt it, herself, as that kind of magic didn't work on the practitioner, but then, she'd never used it on a living being before. The fire, she supposed, already had a kill count of several hundred insects.

She shook her head, bringing herself out of her reverie. "I really liked flight, though. Can I test that again? Or maybe that veil spell we practiced before." She would much rather help people escape from their predicaments than torch everything, but she knew that that might not be an option if it came right down to it.

Spartan Altego

2013-07-18, 10:26 PM

Farhad Najafi

The black, 1969 Mustang pulls into the parking lot smoothly and without incident, taking a spot near the front entrance of the hospital: Gotham Angel of Mercy. It's an older hospital, less pretigious and clean than Gotham General. Farhad climbs out of the old muscle car gingerly, attempting to avoid straining his already sore shoulder as he locks up his car and makes his way hurriedly to the revolving entrance doors. The snow fall has lightened up a bit, but the wind still howls and blows in his ears, and he's suddenly rather resentful of being forced to ditch his more layered clothes during his escape from Highlicht's yacht. It may've made him less of a target for the police to spot, but damn if he wasn't that much colder now.

He's in the lobby after a moment, and he breathes quick sigh of relief at the mild increase in temperature, loosening his scarf a little. There's a woman up at the front desk, as usual, and as he looks around he can see that there are, in fact, no visible cameras in the area. She greets him neutrally as he approaches. The tag on her plain blue dress reading as: "Cindy Millar."

"How may I help you, Mr...?" She trails off, obviously expecting a name.

The Vigil

The thing about the Narrows was that, in the end, looking for trouble was an absolutely pointless gesture. Why look? Trouble always found you, whether you were looking to meet it or not. The smells of waste, litter, and misery permeates the air, and the man who was pretending to be a man found it clogging his under-acclimated nostrils, choking him with it's noxiousness.

He can feel eyes watching him from the dark corners of the streets. The alleyways. He feels the ground rumble beneath him as something scampers nuder the pavement, in the sewers. Splashing noises. Nobody approaches him, perhaps more afraid of the sight of a business man calmly strolling through the Narrows than a poverty stricken man sprinting through. He sees a few poor souls laid out in the middle of the street, bodies rigid and frost-coated. Their faces are locked into twin expressions of terror, and on the left cheek of both victims, a single, thin cut has been drawn.

There's a small playing card left on either victim. It's a joker.

Lila Nagi

Basma smiles as Lila comes bouncing down the stairs, setting her own plate down on the polished table and taking a seat alongside her daughter. It's spaghetti, tonight, thick tomato sauce layered over large, seasoned meatballs and cooked noodles. Lila recognizes it as her mother's favorite dish, which must therefore mean she was in a particularly good mood tonight. "Good news!" Basma says brightly, stopping to chew thoughtfully on a meatball before swallowing, and continuing. "I've been promoted to Head Researcher at the department as of two hours ago! Besides a bigger paycheck, this actually means that I get to do most of my work from home now. Which means I get to see more of you!"

She swirls her fork around in the pile of noodles for a moment, taking a sip from her nearby glass of apple juice. "So how was school today?" She takes a bite from her noodles, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "Anything big coming up for the student council this year? I've heard the Academy is supposed to be planning some big Christmas celebration before break. Any inside-info?" She cajoles lightly. "Promise I won't tell."

Briony Irving

The devil known as Zarathros gives a single rumbling laugh. he flexes his clawed hands casually, head tilted in amused puzzlement. "You humans and your fascination with flight. It's hardly an uncommon ability for a demon to possess, so perhaps I'm lacking the perspective of a grounded ape. Fine. We'll practice your flight technique...outside, this time. Layer yourself as best you can, the air will be far colder as you ascend than it already is."

The demon's back crackles slightly, and suddenly twin leathery black wings sprout from either shoulder, stretching from end to end of her living room, the tips passing through the walls unnoticed. Zarathros flaps them once, then gestures to the window. "When you're ready. It's not like we're in a rush or anything. Remember, layers." There's a hint of eagerness in his voice that Briony can recognize. Zarathros had always enjoyed their test flights, try as he may to disguise it. She had a feeling it reminded him of being free again, something he had pretended to give up on.

babel_matrix

2013-07-19, 08:22 AM

The Vigil

The Vigil kneeled next to the second of the bodies found this way and daintily touched their necks to check for pulses, hoping that their bizzare visages of death could somehow be wrong. They were not. His hands appeared protected in brown leather gloves, but like most of his outfit it was merely his naked skin, transformed. As such, they provided no barrier from the horror of touching a truly dead body. He had not yet grown used to these. God, I can only pray I never do.

The Vigil returned to the first body and collected the Joker card, eager to try and make sense of the cut on the corpse's cheek and why they were killed. Did they still have their valuables? All the while, the Vigil kept a look-out for any police, determined to not have them blow his cover. Granted, the chances of seeing an officer out here...

[roll0] for Notice to keep a lookout.
[roll1] for Search to search the body.
[roll2] to try and find an obvious cause of death with Medicine. Add +9 if Knowledge (life sciences) can be used instead, since it's more analytic than practical.
[roll3] for Investigate to analyze the clue(s) found, including the joker card.

Steel Mirror

2013-07-19, 11:36 AM

Farhad

"It's Mr Joy, and I have two things you could help me with, young lady. First, have you gotten the stiff from the harbor fire yet? I need to make an identification for insurance purposes. We don't need to pay out if the policy holder is extra crispy, after all." Farhad hands over a wad of official-looking papers, which he picked up at the DMV the other day, and within them is a slim stack of 20 dollar bills. Hopefully that will be enough to convince her to look the other way. It usually is, in this part of town.

"Second, does the hospital still make that terrible, extra-strong coffee? The stuff that you can stick your spoon into and it stays pointing straight up, and will wake up a man straight out of a 20 year coma? I could use a little pick-me-up."
Bluff:
[roll0]
In terms of money, Farad isn't actually poor, thanks to the wealth feat and profession ranks. I figure he needs a job less because he is short on cash, and more because he is constantly going through it with his science projects. In any case, with a Wealth of 10, he should easily be able to afford a few bribes like this.

Space Lawyer

2013-07-19, 02:55 PM

Lila

Lila grins, a wide and innocent expression. "Yay! I knew you would get it, Mama!" This wasn't just an expression of confidence, coming from Lila. She actually had known that Basma would get the job. "Now you can tell Dr. Jurgen not to take anymore sick days just to go see the games. He is going to try again tomorrow."

The little girl spears a meatball. "Do you want to hear what I'm supposed to know, or what I do know?" She pops the savory treat in, chewing while her mother responds.

Basma laughs. "Oh, mahhbub, you know you never have to hide yourself from me."

"Well then, President LaMonde wants it to be "the grandest Yule Ball in the school in the schools history!"," emulating the student council president's booming voice as best she can. "He is trying to get everyone to forget that haunted house fiasco. They are having a real tree brought in, as soon as they can find one that doesn't look puny in the Grand Hall. It turns out that trees that big aren't easy to find, and the ones there are have to be reserved well in advance. They are also selling secret Santa candygrams. He has even roped those madmen from the host club into helping with the deliveries.

All the houses are going to shortly be informed that they have to help out. The thing that will make a lot of them upset though is that LaMonde wants to include one of those subtle threats he likes so much by saying "a lack of attendance will be noted with displeasure." He really wants everyone to bring a date too. Renee wants to go with him, but she really wants him to ask.

Oh, and Reggie Sults is planning to spike the punch."

Astro_sol

2013-07-19, 09:00 PM

Briony

"Oh, right!" Briony slapped a fist into an open palm. "Cold! Gotcha, Big Z." And with that, she stripped off her top, revealing a plain cream bra that wasn't hiding all that much. She waltzed over to her clothing drawers, pulling out a white undershirt to cover herself with. After that, she moved to her small closet, pulling out a black hoody. She didn't bother taking off her slacks, but she pulled out another pair to pull over them.

"Of course people like flying," she explained as she changed. "Everyone has something that they can't do. I'm sure you do, too." Like being free from her. "So I'll take any chance I'll get to try it out." She pushed the hoody down over her other two shirts, having put her old one back on over her undershirt. She blinked at Zarathros' outstretched wings. "Aw, man, that's so cool!" she cried out with undisguised enthusiasm. "Those will never get old!" She ran over and brushed a hand over them. "I mean, I know you're used to them, but I think they're wonderful."

She quickly backed off and ran into her closet before he could respond, coming out with a broomstick. Technically, the spell didn't need anything of the sort, but she figured she might as well look the part. Wearing actual witch clothes would push it, but she would at least have her broomstick. She rushed over to the window, endlessly repeating "flying, flying, flying, flying, flying!" She pulled open the window with undisguised enthusiasm, already mentally preparing the spell. By the time it was ready, she was already hanging out the window.

"C'mon, Z!" she shouted, cradling the broomstick between her thighs as she leaped off, shooting straight upward.

Spartan Altego

2013-07-21, 03:30 PM

Farhad Najafi

The nurse, Cindy, takes the stack of papers with a level gaze, flipping through them casually. She doesn't so much as bat an eye upon spotting Farhad's additions to the random sheets, simply giving a confirming nod and meeting his gaze with her own. "Ah, yes, I believe I recall the body you are referring to. Mr. George Highlicht, right? Ukrainian, extra crispy? We have him interned in the basement. There's a set of elevators just down the hallway there," She points to her left. "that will take you down. Just press the B1 button, Mr. Joy."

She frowns a bit at his second request, however. "I'm married." Is all she says, her left hand still pointed in the direction of the elevators. A ring glints on one of the curled fingers. She lowers her hand, taking the stack of pseudo-official papers and surreptitiously sliding them under her desk. "Will that be all, sir?"

The Vigil

The Vigil quickly busies himself with the corpses, gloved hands patting down the jackets, shirts, and jeans of the victims for anything that could be of use, alertly looking over his shoulders every few moments to remain aware of any potential threats. He searches for signs of identity, possible evidence or cause for murder. The first body, the Joker-marked one, yields fruit: a wallet, hidden inside the shoe of the dead man. Flipping it open reveals the body to be one Timothy Martin Drake, age twenty-three. There's a few twenties lying within the wallet as well, untouched, which instantly sets off an alarm in the man's investigative track. This was the Narrows; the poverty-stricken shell of Gotham. Why kill someone and not take their valuables here, of all places? And why was this body not already looted by any passersby? The second body yields no further evidence, wallet or otherwise, further confounding the disguised crusader.

There's no obvious signs of death that he can perceive. The cuts drawn across the victims' cheeks were thin, and incredibly shallow. The kind of injury that ranked only slightly higher than a paper-cut in terms of actual damage. The second, nameless corpse had a cut that ran an inch deeper and wider than the Drake corpse, but it still lacked any killing potential. For all he knew, the two had simply died of mutual fright. Of what, however, remained the question. He scrutinizes the calling card, but is unable to make out anything remarkable about it beyond what any run of the mill playing card might possess.

Lila Nagi

Basma gives a stern eye at the last comment, brow furrowing. "I do hope you are equally planning to stop Mr. Sults from taking such an action. An innocent gesture or not, I hardly have enough faith in either him nor any other student at Prometheus not to take advantage of such an opportunity for less than admirable motivations."

She takes another bite of her dish, leaning forward a bit. Even before her mother speaks, Lila can already sense the sly inquiry and motherly gaze coming upon her before they happen, and she is only slightly surprised to see her premonitions come true when she asks, "So, who will you be taking as a date, then, sweetie? I mean, if LaMonde is so adamant on everyone having one, then it seems only natural that the student council would be all but required to participate. Setting a good example and all..." She trails off, wistfully looking in another direction to hide her the small twitching of her lips. "Just curious."

Briony Irving

Zarathros gives an annoyed growl at Briony's invasion of his personal space, wings twitching from resistance of the urge to retract from further touching. "Yes, my wings are quite amazing and far beyond the quality or grace of anything you could ever hope to have in your small existence. Now stop touching them." He flaps them once as Briony exits her closet, tilting his head at her somewhat amusing choice of flight equipment. She knew, of course, that real witches had not ever used broomsticks to fly, because he had told her so when the girl had forced him to watch that annoying 1930s film, but it apparently didn't stop her from choosing to act as if it were so.

The two are out of the apartment and zooming through the frigid air in seconds, Zarathros gliding alongside the excited witch easily as they passed through the thick barrier of clouds...and into the open red sky. Briony shivers involuntarily at the utter cold that contrasted so glaringly with the starless ocean of crimson that lingers above her. She can already feel her lips numbing, even with the layers upon layers of clothing around her. Zarathros circles around her lazily. "Well, looks like you're still more frail in regards to climate than I'd expected." The demon sighs, straightening himself before her, wings splayed wide. "Create yourself a hellfire sun, then. It's essential for you to become familiar with running multiple spells and magics at once."

The demon raises a clawed fist, spreading it into an open palm. "Watch," He commands. A small speck of crackling black, barley larger than her fist, materializes above his gauntleted hand. Even knowing the projection is harmless and incorporeal, she can sense the sheer warmth the small ball of flames would otherwise be giving off. Zarathros closes his fist, extinguishing the ball. "Create one of your own, then maintain it as we fly. The chill will be as nothing to you."

Make a DC 10 Concentration check. On success, Briony manages to create and maintain her own black sun.

Steel Mirror

2013-07-21, 04:21 PM

Her last comment earns her a blank stare from Farhad. He must have overpaid her for the information and the blind eye, if that is where her thoughts went. Or maybe he needs that cup of coffee more than he realizes.

"Oh . . . uh . . . yeah, that's all." He heads back towards the elevator, trying to reassemble his train of thought. He looks back. "Really though, any chance of a cup of coffee? Really, like, a literal cup of coffee?" She gives him the same slight frown, and doesn't answer. "No? Not in the cards? Right then. I'll just . . . go look at that body."

He gets into the elevator and tries not to think about how long it's been since he's had social interaction of any meaningful kind with someone other than his cats. It's possible his conversation skills are somewhat atrophied.

Oh well. Time to look at the dead guy.

Astro_sol

2013-07-21, 04:40 PM

Briony somehow paid close attention to what Zarathros said as they breezed through the thinner air, nodding after he finished. She put on a serious face.

"Right!" she shouted through the wind. "One sun ball, coming up!" She tapped into the usually unused part of her mind, which was, to her knowledge, located somewhere in the back of her head. Big Z said it was just about her whole thing, but that was just his way. She found the song, a feeling more than a sound, and it filled her being. This was magic. She'd been afraid, the first time she'd tapped it, afraid of the dark implications of hellfire, and of hell itself. But Zarathros had always described channeling magic as something creative, something satisfying, something fun. She thought of a song, a song of hellfire, tight and controlled. Hellfire was something that was hard to grasp, but she found that once you knew the flow of its song, it was easy enough. She brought up her hand, concentrating her will upon reality, singing that here, there was fire.

There was a puff of smoke.

She shivered a bit, and reality, faded and greyed for a moment in comparison to the song of magic, returned all at once, biting her skin with the wind, flaying her concentration away with flecks of moisture. "Oops," she muttered, looking sheepishly at her demonic companion. She quickly put her serious face back on, this time scrunching her eyes nearly closed. The song returned to her almost as if in fast motion; while hell magic was indeed chaotic, she'd returned to the song within enough time to know the way. She gathered her will again, this time feeding it with her frustration, and her drive to make Zarathros proud.

This time, a globe of flickering black appeared in the palm of her outstretched hand. She grinned at the armored demon. "I did it! Haha, I did it, I did it!" She twirled around, and then let out a grin. The spell kept off wind resistance a few feet in front of her, but not temperature. "Hey, Z, I'll race ya!"

And she pushed the spell to maximum, flying forward with a small jolt. Physics had to have at least something to say about instantly accelerating to a couple hundred miles per hour.

Space Lawyer

2013-07-21, 04:51 PM

Lila

It had not taken telepathy or premonition for Lila to sense that question coming. Instead, it was the finely honed sense of a child knowing that the probing question is coming that alerted her. What doting parent would not begin the prowl for more information on their child's love life the moment the subject of a school dance came up?

Lila contorts her face in what should surely be some horrible rictus of pain, and sticks her tongue out at her mother. "Meeeehhhh."

This sort of loving banter was exactly what Lila needed after her bland meal.

"Oh! I almost forgot to mention. I think there is someone sort of like me in the Narrows, or at least feeding there. They only like to eat emotions though, and the feelings don't come back for a really long time."

babel_matrix

2013-07-22, 12:01 AM

The Vigil

The Vigil analyzes the card, looking for signs of residue or blood along its edges. Given that such would benefit from an actual microscope or forensic search, he leaves one of the cards for the police to pick-up. After making the 911 call to get the investigation rolling, (and after leaving the phone hanging in its booth once they start asking for identification,) he continues his patrol, looking for more bodies, more signs of these penniless murders with no obvious damage source. Except poison, of course. Searching the card's edges was his first guess, but such investigation would require proper equipment, such as those the school lab provided.

[roll0] to Notice other clues or victims.

Spartan Altego

2013-07-23, 06:26 PM

Farhad Najafi

The morgue is cold (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZv-wnYK0Cs). That's not really all that surprising, of course. Cold preserved human bodies well, as most could tell you. Even still, the mild chill is nothing compared to the frozen desolation that was Gotham's midnight winter, just outside the walls of the hospital. In truth, it may've been better to intern the bodies outside, rather than in.

The coroner is suspiciously absent, though a warm mug of coffee lying on the man's desk suggests he was there moments ago. Likely vanished once he was notified of Farhad's coming. One of the morgue lockers is already open, though, and the charred black feet protruded from the sheet covered figure quickly tip him off as to the internee's identity. The toe-tag confirms it: George Highlicht. Poet, chef, cannibal serial murderer.

For some reason, Farhad feels as if he's heard of someone like that before. He shakes it off, pulling back the sheets to view the man's ice cold body. The corpse is effectively nothing but cooked meat, cracked and blackened flesh smelling faintly of smoke and rotten produce, which he supposes is a fair degree better than the usual scent of death. The face is melted, pockets of fat and marrow dribbled half down the jawline and eyes before being solidified by the cool Gotham winter, preserved by the cold of the morgue.

His rib cage is entirely burnt out, and Farhad can actually see the man's entire, blackened rib cage. George was as hollow on the inside as he'd expected.

The Vigil

There are no noticeable smudges or clues to be found on the card, though, of course, he doesn't have the ability to see fingerprints amongst his wide array of extra-human powers, so this may require a better tool set to truly be certain. As he resumes his stroll through the inner workings of the Narrows, he can find no more bodies...though as he passes between the walls of two dilapidated buildings that smelled faintly of dead fish...he hears something.

Screams.

They're coming from below him, loud and shrieking, through the vents of a nearby sewer grate. They're female, and the voices are many. At least three. The ground beneath his feet rumbles in response to the passing of...something beneath him, and the screams begin to fade into the distance. Whatever it was, it was moving rapidly through the absurdly spacious maze that made up Gotham's sewer system. He's have to get into there, fast, if he wanted to aid whatever poor soul had run afoul of the Narrows tonight.

There are two ways into the sewers from your position. The grate itself, heavy, but nothing for the likes of you. Or...punching directly downwards, the faster route.

If the latter, Strength Test: DC 10.

Lila Nagi

Basma's demeanor shifts rapidly, and her fond smile is suddenly replaced with a serious stare. She opens her mouth to question her daughter's sincerity, but thinks better of it, only saying, "I don't like it when you go out into that place. It's dangerous for young girls, even special ones," She pokes Lila lightly. "Like you. There are monsters there, and that's no exaggeration, as you've found out..."

She picks at her food a bit, looking less enthused about the half-eaten plate than a moment ago. Her smile tries to return, but the best she can manage now is a grimace. Lila knows that even if Basma didn't openly disapprove of her...feeding habits, it still discomforted her to think about at times. Like now, it appeared. Her mother speaks quietly. "The man's emotions were drained, though? How is that possible? What...what was he like? Was he lucid?"

Briony Irving

There's a crack of displaced air, and suddenly Briony is jetting through the cold Gotham sky at ludicrous speeds, the ball of hellfire she created floating steadily beside her. The heat of the fire keeps the wind from giving her more than a slight shiver, and steam trails behind her like a grey streak in the air. Zarathros flies easily beside her, somehow managing to keep up with her even as he flaps his wings at a steady, relaxed pace. She suspected it was a benefit of being bound to her; he could never fall too far away from her without begin pulled along. The demon's arms are spread, and she can hear noices coming from him, barely, over the roar of air. The demon suddenly stiffens, and his wings cease to flap. He looks at Briony, waving his arms wildly.

"!" He says. She can't make it out over the roar of the air, even as she slows down to better converse with him. The roaring in her ears continues to build, and she strains her ears to just barely make out his frenzied screams over the rumbling of the air.

...How was the air rumbling-

"Plane!" The devil screams, and Briony whirls to see the platinum nose of a Gotham airliner screaming directly into her face.

Make a Dodge Test with a DC of 05.
On failure, make a Toughness Test with a DC of 10.

Steel Mirror

2013-07-23, 08:13 PM

Farhad

Farhad approaches the medical slab a little uneasily. He did technically kill this man, after all, even if there were good reasons for it. And though he is absolutely certain that he did the right thing (the fresh memory of the woman the creature had killed and the pain from the cut along his cheek made sure of that), he isn't comfortable with the thought of being a killer.

But he is less comfortable with the thought that whatever thing was really possessing this body might not be dead. He dons a pair of gloves, takes a few pictures with his smart phone (they might be easy to track, but they are also remarkably handy), and begins his own examination of the body, with special care taken to compare what he sees with everything he knows about this creature.
Knowledge (Arcane Lore):
[roll0]
Knowledge (Life Sciences):
[roll1]
Investigate:
[roll2]
Search:
(Taking a 10 with Skill Master) [25]
Medicine:
[roll3]

Space Lawyer

2013-07-23, 08:46 PM

Lila

Lila thinks back, swinging feet scraping the ground, fork dangling loosely in her fingers. "Mmmm, he was...boring. Like eating a bunch of white bread with no crust. He was awake after a bit, but it was like he wasn't really there. He had really glassy eyes.

I don't know how it happened to him. I didn't take the time to look through his memories real close. It was just the usual flashes."

Lila looks at her plate, downcast, with her physical hunger likewise diminished.

"I'm sorry for going to the Narrows, Mama. It's just easier to do it there. I brought Seigyo with me!" She ends this on a cheery note, the plea of a child trying to mollify a reasonably cross parent.

babel_matrix

2013-07-25, 08:36 AM

The Vigil

As easily as he would've been able to punch his way through the ground, there was no telling where, or on who, the debris would land, to say nothing of ruining what precious infrastructure remained in the Narrows. The screams were fading, certainly, but they had to be fading in a direction; the Vigil listened carefully while changing his fascade, absorbing the trenchcoat until it wrapped about him tightly, shrugging off the folds of his shirt until they shrank into the iconic V.

The Vigil was transformed, now covered in the tights of his symbolic uniform... at least, once he started getting work done, here in Gotham. He prepared to fly fast and low to the ground, trying to run ahead of the conflict until he could get to the next sewer grate and cut them off through there.

Spartan Altego

2013-07-25, 10:00 AM

Farhad Najafi

The first spot of evidence he can find are the engravings in George's ribcage. Intricate, cut deep into the marrow, in fact. They hissing lightly blue as he touches them; the tell-tale signs of fading magic, exiting from the markings. He know what they are: sealing hexes, wards. Used to contain things of power, or importance. But he'd never seen these carved into a person's ribs before.

Was it possible that the gheist had not simply possessed Highlicht at some point...but been sealed in? Why? For what purpose? The answers aren't coming easily, and Farhad quickly resumes his studies of the rest of Highlicht's remains. Gheists were frequently attracted to downtrodden souls, coming to them to promise power, strength, the usual offerings of spirits like them. Highlicht appeared to be wealthy, or even rich on some level. Why he would've accepted the gheist's offer, especially since one of the conditions was to allow the gheist inside your spirit (at which point, the victims were possessed). Perhaps the possession had taken place long before Highlicht had ever arrived at Gotham?

The conditions of death for this corpse, of course, he already knew, Internal organs has been flash fried. Skull and bones cracked from the concussive force of-

The seals on the body's ribs had been broken. Their magic invalidated by George's death. That was why the seals were leaking vestiges of magic and energy: whatever had been trapped inside the man's body had been released and now there was nothing to imprison behind the seals again!

The Vigil

He's off like a shot; a blur of motion through the alleys and streets of the Narrows as he attempts to follow the source of whatever was causing the screams and noises below. He can make out faint growling, snarls. But his will, unbound by gravity, is greater, and he manages to zoom and weave through the residential areas without smashing through them, managing to find an adjacent sewer grating and tear it off with a slight grunt, tossing it aside. The weight was meaningless to him, but flexing his strength was always a little more intensive the first time he tried it.

He leaps down into the sewer tunnels unhesitatingly...and sees nothing. The sewer walls are wide, and expansive. He can already see four-directions he could take, each of them splintering off into their own sub-directions and intersecting at random intervals. It really was a maze. He tries not to think about the thick, rancid smell of the filth swirling around his ankles, reaching a small way up his legs. Or where the things that were beneath his feet came from. He needs to focus...but the smell is too much for him, and he can feel the urge to vomit come up inside him as he realizes that his pseudo-flesh clothes meant he was effectively standing naked in human waste.

Test Fortitude to not vomit.
Lila Nagi

Basma's stern facade cracks after a moment, and she relaxes, back to smiling a little. "It's fine, love. I don't like you going out there...but I suppose it's still safer than you doing it in the bigger parts of the city. You might get spotted by somebody, or get arrested, and that's not something I want to see happen to you."

She stands, plate cleared of her food, and begins making her way towards the kitchen. "When you're done, come clean your plate, and we can watch some television for a bit," She calls over the sound of water. "Okay?"

...Something tickles at the back of Lila's mind. A foreign signature of psychic energy was approaching. Nobody from school...nobody from Mother's district. It feels...unclean. Repugnant, even. It's alone, as far as she can tell, and coming towards the house slowly. She focuses harder on the signal; it was right across the lawn!

But as quickly as she realizes this...the signal vanishes.

Space Lawyer

2013-07-25, 11:12 AM

Lila

Lila stands and spins, peering out through the big bay window into the yard. "Mama, something was out there!" She runs to the window, peering out. "It left though..."

Her eyes dart to the doors and windows. A nazr hung on the wall, and a hamsa was engraved and painted on the interior of the door. Basma took a rational, scientific approach to studying the stranger things in this world, but that had simply reinforced her belief in the value of charms and such. Some of them worked, some didn't, but many superstitions had an element of truth in them, having developed from something that worked well in the past.

She notices her mother's concerned look. "Never mind. Whatever it was, it's gone now." Still, the abhorrent feeling of that energy was not something she wanted to feel again, and she certainly did not want to encounter whatever could produce it.

Lila washes off the dinner plates and puts the leftovers away. In the glow of the television, she snuggles up close to her mother, the cushions a welcome enveloping softness.

Astro_sol

2013-07-25, 12:54 PM

Briony gave a yelp and dived, catching a current rushing underneath the plane, spinning around wildly as she rather fortunately traveled in a straight line. After a few moments of mayhem, she brought herself under control with an act of will, focusing on being straight and forward. She pulled the broom to a stop, which was a meaningless gesture, as the will to "stop" was the sole necessary component. She turned back to Zarathros, her eyes wide.

"That..." she struggled to catch her breath. "That was awesome!" She let out a "whoop", throwing her hands into the air. She began to let herself drop in altitude. Hopefully, no one would notice the tiny speck in the sky. "Note to self! Dodge planes!" She kicked her legs under the broom. "Fast is fun! How fast do demons go?"

Steel Mirror

2013-07-25, 03:42 PM

Farhad

Farhad mutters a prayer under his breath upon discovering those monstrous engravings. <"I seek refuge with the Lord of the Dawn from the mischief of the evil He created.">

He traces his fingers lightly along the remaining fragments of the seal, committing its intricate swirls and designs to memory. He tries to determine how long ago they might have been made, and by what agency, but knows that it is probably a fool's errand. Where magic is concerned, medical wisdom must give way before the twisted power of the demons and jinns.

This is apparent confirmation that Highlicht was not in control when he killed those girls. Maybe he was an unwilling victim, imprisoned in his own body by some unknown power, for some unknown reason. Or maybe he was a willing conspirator, offering up himself to the powers of evil. Farhad has no way to know, and no authority to judge. It is in the hands of the Almighty, now. And may Farhad be forgiven for what he was forced to do.

But he does need to find out whatever he can about Highlicht. Where he came from, who he associated with. He needs to figure out who did this to him, and why, and what this demon was meant to do. And he needs to figure out where it has gone before it possesses another host.

He moves over to the morgue's computer, and tries to access the file on Highlicht. With any luck, the police report will include information on him that would take a lot of footwork on Farhad's part to dig up.
Medicine to try to determine how long ago the magical runes were carved into this crispy bastard: [roll0]
Knowlede (Arcane Lore) for same: [roll1]

Computer Use to check for info:[roll2]

Spartan Altego

2013-07-25, 05:11 PM

Farhad Najafi

There's little to be found on George Highlicht, which is admittedly not as surprising as one might think. The man had no criminal record to speak of, save for the single sexual harassment charge that had gotten him kicked out of high-class cooking in the first place. His source of funding appeared to have come from some sort of trust fund, set up by his long deceased parents. Which he supposed explained the yacht, though not the man's need for a job in the first place, then.

Perhaps he simply enjoyed it. Or the ghiest did.

Frustratingly enough, however, there's simply nothing else to be found on Highlicht. He was like a ghost, annoying as the comparison was.

Lila Nagi

The comfort of closeness with her mother is short lived. The presence comes back, this time closer to her house, just at the edge of the lawn. Before she can acknowledge it, the signal is gone. Her mother seems to take notice of her distress, as Basma looks down at Lila concernedly, asking, "What's wrong, love?"

The signal is back, malevolent and twisted, awful horrid screams vomit blood taste inside the house behind her mother run.

It's gone again. She can hear laughter inside her head, insane, poisonous. "Wanna hear a joke?" It asks. "A mother and her child sit down to watch television together. There's a ringing at the door, and the mother goes to open it. The mother sees something and screams." The next words are hissed out, oozing glee. "Can you guess the punch line...Lila?"

Ding-dong. The bell rings throughout the house. Basma looks up, her attention diverted. "Visitors, this late?" She sighs, getting up from the couch tiredly. "They'd better have one heck of a reason for this, or somebody's getting an earful. It's past midnight, for pity's sake."

Briony Irving

Zarathros can only grunt. "Awesome? You were nearly splatter across the windshield of an airplane and you think it's...awesome?" The exasperated demon flips himself upside down, wings still continuing to flap rhythmically. "We can fly as fast as me need to, given enough time. Teleporting is more efficient, though."

The demon flips himself upright. "We should get down for the time being," He says reluctantly. "That's a close call too many for tonight, and you have...school, tomorrow." He finishes distastefully. "I wonder if we'll find more humans lusting after you than we have the last few weeks. Surely there will be at least one, grovelling for a taste of your power. Among other things."

There's no shame, nor even acknowledgement of the personal nature of the comments he is making. He says them casually, without regard. "Let's go before another plane comes."

Space Lawyer

2013-07-25, 05:44 PM

Lila

"NO!" An invisible force jerks her mother backwards, setting the woman down on the stairs. "That thing I felt before, it's back!" It was out there, trying to get at her. "Stay away, it's evil, it wants to hurt us!"

As soon as Basma's feet touch the stairs, the force transforms into an invisible barrier protecting Lila. She sees into the immaterial, the aura of whatever is behind the door immediately apparent.

Taking 10 on Sense Motive (skill mastery) for 27 to see if the voice is telling the truth about actually being there.

-If it is evil, malevolent, demonic, psychically controlled to be hostile, etc:

Lila lashes out with her mind, the full weight of psychic energy behind the blow.

Two DC 18 will saves (hitting the same target twice).

-If it is friendly, and this is a trick to get Lila to seem crazy:

Lila holds off on crushing the possible enemy. "Who is it?"

babel_matrix

2013-07-26, 09:02 AM

The Vigil

Never doing that again...

The Vigil lifted up and out of the filth, doing his best to ignore the feeling of the filth dripping from his currently-fused toes. His stomach, like the rest of his body, was iron-cast and too tough to turn... but God help him if it didn't smell awful in these tunnels.

But these thoughts fell secondary to the scream that brought him down here. He began searching blindly through the tunnels, making a mental note to bring a flashlight with him on these patrols from now on. I bet Batman never had to deal with this sort of--!

Steel Mirror

2013-07-26, 11:47 PM

Farhad

Tracking down a ghost isn't easy. You can spend all day chasing down dead end leads, which sounds bad enough until you spend a year doing it every. Single. Day. That's what is it was like, sometimes, when you were looking for the truth. Behind the facade of normalcy that people insist on pretending is real, there are an awful lot of things that go bump. Farhad has a lot of experience with that. He's looked into pretty much anything and everything, from bigfoot to alien abductions to government mind control experiments. And it usually involves a lot of footwork for very little reward.

On the plus side, that means he has learned to be very resourceful. He double checks the runes, grabs a tissue sample in a sterile container, and wonders what to do next. He decides to check with the last job that Highlicht had held; could be the employer that filed the sexual harassment complaint has some insight into the man.

He recalls the contents of the police file in his memory: the employer was named Wilson Fisk, and it's a name that Farhad recognizes. Supposedly he has connections to the mob, though if that rumor is true, they are well hidden connections. He presents a respectable enough front, and isn't the kind of man you just walk in on for a friendly chat.

With at least a goal in mind (even if not a ready means to reach it), Farhad leaves the hospital, waving awkwardly to the nurse as he leaves. He thinks for a moment about asking for a partial refund, since he never got that "pick-me-up", but he has more important things to do right now than indulge his sense of humor.

He climbs into his car and heads towards the address of Wilson Fisk, trying to think of some way to get in to talk to him.
Gather Info using Well Informed to see what I know about Fisk:[roll0]

Spartan Altego

2013-07-27, 06:27 PM

Farhad Najafi

He's in his car (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVmPrmkBCb8) and driving off towards the upper residential areas of Gotham within minutes, the familiar chill of thr open air almost a relief compared to the warmer, yet somehow more lifeless air of the hospital. He's driven nearly eight miles uptown before it occurs to him that Fisk specifically lived in his own gated area of the higher class citizenry, and that any attempt at getting a personal meeting with the man would probably benefit from an approach that didn't require a late night visit.

At the very least, he was tired, and he knew Fisk wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. And now that he thought of it...he hadn't fed the cats recently, had he?

Lila Nagi

Lila's attempts to discern truth from the voice's words prove fruitless, any deception or mirdection simply buried beneath the sheer negative intent that the presence oozed at every turn. Her mind stretches out...and feels nothing. She senses...nothing, behind the door. Not even a trace of a psychic signature anywhere within the vicinity. The hostile presence in her mind does not fade, but now she can feel a sick, barbed amusement growing in the thing.

Basma speaks up, surprise and fear in her voice - and not a little of it directed towards Lila herself. "Lila..what's going on? Who are you talking about?"

The doorbell rings...again. Silence hangs in the air for a moment, before another ring comes. And another. And another. And yet another. And yet every time it does so, Lila can still feel nothing behind the door, nor anything other than herself or her mother in the area. The ringing grows in frequency, and even in sound, the noise building and building and building until...

Silence. The evil walking through her mind vanishes, and Lila feels a chill she didn't even know had fallen over her lift.

The Vigil

His thought never finishes as he hears a slashing noise to his right, then his left. Each time his head swivels to look, he sees nothing but further, endless darkness that his eyes can barely penetrate. Contrary to popular belief, sewer tunnels not only were normally not this large, but they also were never as well lit as people liked to think. There's a small growling, followed by the noise of something nard snapping into pieces.

Crunching noises. More splashing, from all around. Circling.

Hunting. And...singing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unV3EaTXltY)?

Astro_sol

2013-07-28, 02:52 AM

"Lusting?! Z!" She huffed and begins to putter away, back towards the city. "That's awful. They can't help it. If I just treat them like a friend, I'm sure they'll understand. And I can take care of myself if they don't, right?" She beamed at him. "Nothing to worry about!"

And then she shot off like a rocket.

Space Lawyer

2013-07-28, 09:21 AM

Lila

Lila runs to her mother, clinging at the woman. She is shivering, shaking, and shuddering. "There was something here, something evil. It was strong enough to get inside my mind. Nothing is supposed to be strong enough to do that, nothing is supposed to get in unless I let it!"

babel_matrix

2013-07-30, 06:19 AM

The Vigil

Everything was there to indicate that he was flanked on all sides... but the question remained of precisely what had found him. The Vigil looks for the nearest source of light, likely a sewer grate, and weighs his options... as well as the realization that whatever stalked him now, whatever bestial thing gathered all about him, had likely finished whoever it was that he had heard. He had guessed wrong as to what the woman was chased by, here in the penultimate center of Gotham's crime. "Come on then!" he bellowed,shooting at the nearest sewer grate at full speed, stopping short only if it seemed his hunters didn't pursue.

Spartan Altego

2013-07-30, 12:21 PM

Lila Nagi

Basma wraps her arms around the shaking girls, quietly rocking her back and forth. "We can go out to the department for the night, okay?" She whispers gently, looking almost too scared by her daughter's state of duress to be comforting. "It's the safest place in the world, you know that." Her daughter's light enough that she can pick her up easily, and she carries her tightly up the stairs. "We'll get our things and stay over there for a while until we can find out what was here."

"We'll be okay baby, I promise."

The Vigil

The Vigil manages to burst through the grate just in time to avoid a thin, clawed hand slashing at his ankles. The swipe just barely graze the sole of his foot, and he's free; flying above the grate, waiting for his pursuer to follow. He waits, watching the improvised exit warily. The ground rumbles slightly, but it seems to be coming from multiple areas this time, as if in unison-

The concrete explodes beneath him, asphalt and gravel spraying into his face, his eyes, and disguising the approach of a hideous, misshapen thing that might have once been called female. It's eyeless gaze is only enhanced by it's razored maw. It screeches, lunging at him nakedly from the depths of the underground.

Combat has begun.
The Vigil is: Surprised.
Attack Roll: 20
Damage: 12

Briony Ivring

"You have an utterly fantastical and overly optimistic view of your fellow meatbags." Zarathros drawls. He doesn't mention how pleased he would be if one of Briony's admirers did in fact attempt to accost her in some fashion. He wanted to see if his protege had what it took to roast the flesh off those who would dare to lay their hands upon her. Burn them until their bones melted and their brains were ashes. Unfortunately, he rather doubted she would revel in their pain, drink in the lordship that her power granted...yet. It was a goal that would need to be accomplished in the future.

This time Zarathros appears right in front of Briony as she is about to fly off, arms crossed sternly. "I believe I said-"

She passes directly through him. He stays there for a moment, suspended in space. After a moment, he snarls. "I hate being a f*cking ghost." This time the Arch-devil teleports in front of Briony, with a fair enough distance for her to notice his presence in time to slow. "Bedtime. Now." He growls. "Or I will not teach you how to find more dimensions to explore." His threat delivered, the demon waits patiently, wings splayed wide.

babel_matrix

2013-07-30, 03:03 PM

The Vigil

Stunned, the Vigil took the vicious bite to his ankle. Though his steely hide holds against the beast, he was hardly willing to see just how well it would against the creature. I can't fly away and leave this creature to the Narrows, though... He did his best on focusing on knocking the creature out before contemplating what he could even do with such a fiend... Certainly, this matter fell beyond the purview of the police.

The Vigil estimated that the monster would be tough enough to take a swift kick to the head, and did his best to aim a silver heel at its misshapen head.

Attack (Strike, Rank 6): [roll0]
Damage DC: 25

Astro_sol

2013-07-30, 05:37 PM

The broomstick screeched to a halt. Well, not literally, as the spell caused such a displacement of air that there was a loud crack at the sudden deceleration.

"B...bedtime already? But we only just got here!" The mention of more dimensional travel caused her to jut out her bottom lip and begin to putter off, much more slowly. "Fiiiiiiiiine. But the next place you take me had better be better than that place with all the shrimp. It was so boring! Can it be somewhere cooler this time? Maybe a place good for flying! How about it, huh, huh?!"

Space Lawyer

2013-07-30, 06:28 PM

Lila

"Ok." Lila gives a quick answer, ready to just get her things and leave. She dashes into her room, grabs clothes, and shoves them into a bag. She does the same with her things from the bathroom.

In less than a minute, she is pacing at the top of the stairs waiting for her mother. She wanted to be out of here, away from where that thing could easily get to her.

Basma was right. The department was the safest place to be when the paranormal threatened. Layers of wards, charms, and thick walls could keep anything out.

Steel Mirror

2013-07-30, 07:01 PM

Farhad

Farhad drives the old girl home, stopping along the way to pick up catfood and some surgical gloves (he is about to run out). He continues back all the way to the harbor, and parks his car in the closest thing to a covered spot that he can find in the harbor lot. The cold gets into her engine, makes it hard for her to get started in the mornings. He'd park indoors if he could spare the cash, but his side projects are expensive, and take precedence.

He double checks that the door is locked and secure before leaving his car alone, like he always does, and heads back to his boat.

Once inside, he turns up the thermostat and hunts down the thickest, warmest blanket he can find, and wraps it around him.

He scrapes off a plate that is sitting on the floor, and empties out two cans of cat food into a big pile. The three cats will sort it out among themselves, and he doesn't really feel energetic enough to track down a plate for each of them.

"Here, kitty kitties. Time to get paid. I better not find any pixies around or it's back to the dry kibble next week."

The three of them, alerted by the sound of the can opener moments before, show up expectantly. There is the big fat old one that was sleeping on his medical kit; he calls it Crone. There is the brown one who always acts as if she owns the place (even more than the others, that is); he calls her Matron. Then there is the kitten who is almost too old to be called that anymore, but still is the most playful and affectionate of the bunch. She's named Maiden.

"Come get it, you silly animals," Farhad says, and tries to take pleasure in the fact that he at least helped someone, today. Cats count.

Then he heads back to his stack of occult references, with the arcane sigils from Highlicht's chest still firmly in mind. It might be too late to pay a visit to Gotham's high society socialites, but that doesn't mean Farhad is going to let a lead go.
Knowledge (Arcane Lore) for the design: [roll0]

Spartan Altego

2013-07-30, 07:34 PM

The Vigil

The creature's head snaps back with enough force to break a human neck...and snaps back forward, an unearthly screech crawling forth from it's maw and shoving itself into his mind. He can feel an alien presence in there, clawing, slashing, doing everything it can to disorient him. It rampages through his thoughts, his memories, tainting them with it's very presence. He can feel it's rage, it's hunger, threatening to overtake him.

Will Save: DC 20
-On failure: Stunned for one round, all rolls halved for two rounds.

Briony Ivring

"I can provide such a place for that, yes..." Zarathros says slowly, insidiously. "On the condition that you don't take that ridiculous instrument with you." He points at the broom. "It makes you look far less fearsome than you should appear. The dimension's occupants might mistake you for prey and attempt to devour you. Unacceptable."

The duo return to their abode within minutes, Briony gently landing beside the closet from which she had retrieved the broom, Zarathros settling on her bed and retreating his wings back inside himself. The leathery extensions burble and ripple like water, furling up and then sinking beneath the obsidian armor the demon constantly chose to wear. he then unceremoniously lays across the bed, spreading his arms and legs wide. "I'm resting here tonight," He says matter-of-factly. "You will sleep on the floor."

It's a petty, and rather fruitless move, as both of them know. Zarathros could not really touch the bed; only float just barely above it, or otherwise sink through. And Zarathros did not need rest, nor sleep. Not that it would stop him from claiming otherwise, when it suited him.