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Thread: Soul Jumpers IC

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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    OrcBarbarianGuy

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    GRMM

    The stars shine unseen over the city that never sleeps, the bright lights of New York competing with the celestial bodies in their eternal burning. Even in the dark of the night, this city remains bright, a constant ward against the pressing shadows from all sides.

    Home to over eight million souls, it is a constant hub of activity, as trade and commerce arrives from all over the world, people coming and going as they see fit. Strangers from distant places, searching for a place to belong.

    A young woman stares up at the stars, barely visible, as the lightest of breezes rustle the leaves of Central Park, the din of the city falling unheard on her ears. Tears slide down her cheeks, faintly catching the mixed starlight and city light, reflecting them, refracting them, reducing them to their most base elements.

    The tree branch she sits upon barely sways with the breeze, creaking ever so lowly under her weight. It is a silent, elderly guardian; giving her support no one else will give, providing company on another sleepless night.

    It is the city that never sleeps, for who knows what it would dream of if it did?



    ---

    August 31st - 12:27 AM

    A man walks into the impromptu headquarters of the hidden band, his hair dark and cut short, with a dash of grey at the temples. He is thin and tall, not powerfully built, but the glint in his eyes belies his keen mind.

    Around him float three balls of multi-colored mist, pulsating with blues, greens, and purples as they casually drift here and there, but matching his pace, whispering words that only they can understand. They care not whether he can comprehend their words, for their thoughts are alien and unfathomable.

    Maxwell Valencia’s eyebrows flicker into the lightest of frowns, perturbed by how agitated the Wisps were to follow him around. Obviously, the mark was in trouble.

    ---

    August 30th - 5:23 PM

    Sitting on a pylon in the waterfront by Brooklyn Heights, Waldemar Frost calmly watches ships sail by on the East River, bearing loads of tourists or commuters. He blinks owlishly in the orange light of the late afternoon, the sun already beginning to set. A slow smile begins to spread across his face as he hops down from the pylon, hands pushing into his pockets, his right hand gripping the trinket he carried with him everywhere. A reminder of past mistakes.

    Half past twelve, that’s what the man who found him had said. Half past twelve, at the Goldstein Building on 1st Avenue by 95th Street. It wasn’t a long walk, Waldemar capable of easily making it with hours to spare. He put one hand over his stomach. He was hungry. He peered at the orange sun for a brief instant before deciding he could grab something to eat before going to the meeting point.

    After all, he had time.

    ---

    August 30th – 11:59 PM

    There are some people who are born lucky, who fortune seems to smile down upon and shower with blessing. Seth Credeo once was one of those people. Not anymore.

    Frustration and resignation plodded through his mind as he stood off with the three hoodlums. He had been living in a shelter in Queens for a while, and he had thought it was a safe neighborhood. Apparently he had been incorrect. One of the thugs smiled innocently, a feint to cover his darting attack with a knife. Seth ducked back, hurdled over his attacker, and ran flat-out to escape. Sure, he could destroy them in the soul world… But Maxwell had said when they first met that… “Soul Jumpers” like them shouldn’t abuse their powers. Perhaps he was right. But, sometimes, drastic measures were needed to survive in this world.

    It wasn’t long before Seth reached the odd grey-bricked apartment building, the door left hanging open for anyone to get in. Seth chuckled a little, a private little joke about how ironically like the normal soulscape this apartment was. Open and unprotected.

    ---

    August 30 – 6:44 AM

    Already awoken by the bustle of early morning traffic, Trevor Magnusson quietly wandered the streets of New York, having no mission and no purpose beyond his own whims.

    People in suits and nice clothes passed him by, barely paying him any sort of notice, considering him just another homeless bum, another irremovable fixture of the city that had to be tolerated, if not accepted. He was invisible in their eyes. They held money and influence and power in the physical world… But in their hearts, they were all weak and frail compared to him.

    He paused. But… Today… He had a purpose. Maxwell had given him one. Help people. Be a hero. Use the odd and mysterious powers he had possessed since childhood for good, for the betterment of the people who paid him no heed. It was… An odd thought.

    But… Perhaps it was a good thought.

    ---

    August 31st – 12:33 AM

    GRMM





    Maxwell strode into the bare and empty apartment he rented, overlooking the lights from Queens reflecting on the East River. It wasn’t much of a base, but he was certain that, over time, it would become a workable headquarters.

    Three young men waited for him inside, three of the five Souljumpers he discovered with the help of the Wisps. They were obviously haunted and broken, but he hoped deep down that they could be forged into the weapon that would protect the people of New York from the demons that preyed upon them, be they the shades of their soul or the malevolent spirits that prowled the city unseen. These three young men were the hope the city needed in increasingly dark times. The three wisps departed from their orbit around him, each flying to one of the young men and hovering above their heads.

    “… Welcome.” He said simply, slinging his satchel down and retrieving his portfolio. His gaze flicked over the three quietly. The oldest, Trevor, was a tall and gangly kid, quiet and looking between his two new comrades. His hair was black and long, unkempt from the many months spent homeless on the streets. The wisp bobbed up and down next to his right ear, glowing a dark shade of blue.

    To his right, standing in the middle and illuminated by the soft purple light of the wisp, was Waldemar, the 15-year-old German boy who had mysteriously turned up in New York. He too had dark hair, but it was neatly looked after, his whole appearance carefully groomed and cultivated.

    And finally, the youngest, Seth, who was watching the dark green wisp above his head curiously. The boy was athletic and fit, his body healthy and well-kept. His clothes too were nicer than one would expect, and Maxwell quietly mused to himself that perhaps he came from money.

    “Welcome.” He repeated, pulling a stack of papers out of his portfolio and handing them to Trevor to pass out to his younger comrades. “To the White Room.” It was a simple name, one he liked. It was not pretentious, but it did convey a bit of mystery.

    The paperwork was a dossier on Angela Thornwood, a pretty young Brunette who had been living in the city for seven years. “She is our first mark, and I daresay tonight is the night we must act. Angela… Has been greatly depressed for the last few years, according to her medical history, with one attempted suicide attempt in the past. She’s prescribed to various pharmaceuticals to control her situation… But we all know that won’t last long under any circumstances.”

    He paced through the room. “I don’t know why the Wisps brought me to her, or why they consider her important, but we’re going to do as they direct. Right now she is in Central Park, and I believe her life is in grave danger.” He stopped behind Waldemar, forcing the boy to turn and stare over his shoulder. “We’re going to jump in and see what we can do. I haven’t set foot in her soulscape yet, so I haven’t a clue what we might be facing.”

    He circles around and stops in front of them. “Any questions? I apologize for the lack of notice on our first meeting, but I do not think we have any more time to waste.”
    Last edited by Julian84; 2013-06-03 at 06:33 PM.

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    Trevor

    Trevor shifts uneasily in the company of the other two boys. His own ragged t-shirt, faded hoodie, tattered cargo shorts, and barely-held-together sneakers compared unfavorably to the well-kept appearance of the others...and he had put on his best clothes for this occasion. It wasn't everyday one got an offer to be, well, a hero. He self-consciously tries to brush the unkempt black hair from his face. He always tried to tell himself that what went on in this world hardly mattered, that it was in some ways less real than the soul world, but that wasn't always true.

    Trevor accepts the papers and passes copies to the other two, then scans the dossier. "I'd say your right. I've been inside people like her before...it wasn't pretty. Clawing, grasping things reaching out of the darkness, only to be banished by unbearable light with whatever cocktail of drugs they stick into her. Then anger and self-loathing come into the picture, despising ones own weakness." He then summons up his courage and introduces himself to the others. Hi, I'm Trevor Magnusson. I, ah, don't like to be called that when we're inside. There, I'm Atlas.

    He turns to acknowledge the blue wisp hanging by his head. It was their world he was going to be going to. He whispers to it "Thank you for coming with me. I'm Atlas. I'm going to be helping."

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    Seth

    "These are an interesting bunch" Seth thought, sitting at the meeting. Maxwell would come in just a moment, with his promise to teach controlling the powers Seth had. Until then, there wasn't much to do. Seth plugged in his earphones and listened to some music while looking at his 'partners'.
    The large guy seemed in a poor hygene state, and very closed, though reliable. The german boy was a lot more difficult to measure. It seemed like he came from a decent home, but was more on the wild-side than his heritage suggested. Seth didn't try to make any contact, as he would soon learn who they were anyways.

    Finally Maxwell came in. And with him came three sprites, one of them now hovering above Seth's head. The dark green creature "Spirit?" was intriguing to watch, but also gave a little bit the sense of safety. Seth decided to acknowledge it by just giving a nod towards it.
    Maxwell explained 'the mission' and told the group 'the target', and even a little before he could finish his explanation, Seth was already standing "Let's go, then". He had read the file and knew his target. The sounds he hadn't heard because of the earphones in his ears, but it seemed to him it didn't really matter anyways.

    Seth's inside-the-city-on-the-go Music

    Moving through the city just free-running or on bike could be really freeing sometimes. More even when you don't like to be around people, like Seth.
    Last edited by gunnar11; 2013-01-28 at 06:28 PM.

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    Waldemar

    Waldemar looks at the other two standing with him as he quietly mused to himself about what it would be like inside their soulscapes. He read through the papers silently as Maxwell explained the situation to them. He had been a good boy lately, keeping out of others' souls and not meddling in their lives, but nevertheless he was excited to explore the tortured mind of their target. He was starving.

    After whom he had perceived was the eldest spoke, Waldemar decided to introduce himself. “Sie scheinen viel zu wissen, wenn es um die Seelen der anderen kommt. Glaubst du nicht?” Maxwell expressed confusion. “Damn Americanz,” he said quietly to himself. He looked at the purple mist above his head and said “Zumindest kann man mich verstehen.” He then looked back at the other two and said, “Vhat I zaid vas you zeem to know much vhen it comes to the soulz ov otherz. Do you not?” Before the boy could respond he added, “My name iz Waldemar, pronounced Val-day-mar. Nice to meet you.”
    Last edited by Reverend1124; 2013-01-30 at 09:18 PM.

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    OrcBarbarianGuy

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    All:

    GRMM

    Maxwell holds up a hand to still the group. “There will be plenty of time for questions later.” He pauses, and looks at Seth. “I take it you’ve never attempted a long-range jump then? It’s alright, I’ll show you how to do it.”

    He walks over to a closet and opens it up, pulling out four white folding chairs and setting them up so the each member of the group is sitting facing each other.

    He settles into his seat. “A soul-jumper is limited in their ability to jump only by psychological barriers they place on themselves. Sometimes one gets the feeling of vertigo or a lack of air when performing a jump that’s too far away, but if you practice you’ll be able to do it with relative ease.”

    He closes his eyes. “You need to fix the target’s face and name in your mind… And concentrate. Block out all distractions, or you may end up misjumping into someone else’s soul. Just breath… Concentrate… Visualize the person in your mind… And…”

    Everyone roll a concentration check, DC 15
    Last edited by Julian84; 2013-01-30 at 05:12 PM.

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    Waldemar

    Waldemar chuckled as he sat down in the chair. To think that his first assignment was something this simple. He closed his eyes and his head immediately drooped.

    Rolled a 15.
    Last edited by Reverend1124; 2013-01-30 at 09:18 PM.
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Seth

    This was new for Seth. He had, up until then, always felt the need to be in contact with the person he wanted to jump into. It just felt so natural. He didn't know it was possible to do from a distance.

    Seth started to focus on his target. This woman, depression, aspects, ideals, way of life. Everything started to come together in his head, and he tried to localize her soul.

    Spoiler
    Show

    Concentration: (1d20)[11]


    But he didn't have a clear enough picture, not enough focus or something, to find it. Or, well, he could see it, but not reach out to it. Seth really felt powerless.
    Last edited by gunnar11; 2013-01-30 at 05:28 PM.

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    Trevor

    Jumping into a soulscape intentionally wasn't something Trevor did often. Most of the time, he was dragged in.

    He takes a seat on the hard white plastic chair. It was the same sort of style the had at the institution: sterile, no character, and unexciting. The only difference was that these weren't bolted to the floor.

    He holds the picture of Angela in his mind, trying to use the same techniques that a Buddhist meditation teacher had tried to teach in the Institute. Those had never really stuck with Trevor, but it seemed they might come in handy now.

    (1d20+2)[22]

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    OrcBarbarianGuy

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    Reverend, Cgrela:

    Waldemar and Trevor find themselves in a dank room, the walls and ceiling made from carved stone blocks, a torch of green firelight flickering in the corner, emphasizing the mold and mildew seeping from the moist walls. The air is humid and clammy, thick and almost difficult to breathe. The only way out is a thick wooden door with a metal handle.

    A note flutters down in front of them, which Trevor snatches out of the air.

    Seth misjumped, going to go find him
    -Max


    Gunnar11:

    Suddenly, Seth is standing atop a thick stalk of bamboo, mist rising in the air around him as he surveys a massive forest of thick deciduous trees and bamboo groves. Off in the distance, tall forested mountains roll through the landscape.

    Sitting in front of him, however, is a pudgy, bald Asian man balancing on a bamboo stalk with one foot, meditating quietly.

    He is only wearing a loincloth. One eye peeks open. “Eh? What?” He looks around suddenly. “What is this place?!”

    Maxwell suddenly appears beside him. “You misjumped. I’ll guide you to her soul.” He grabs Seth’s shoulder and he feels a sharp tugging, the soulscape disappearing in a flash of bright light.

    All:

    Maxwell and Seth appear in the dungeon a minute after Waldemar and Trevor, surprising the two. Maxwell rises, surveying the room.

    “Hm. Her soulscape has been corrupted.” He looks around. “Or she is a lot more messed up in the head than I thought.”

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    Atlas

    The hulking red-skinned being is hunched over. "At least this one hasn't tried to kill us yet. I'm grateful for that. Want to take the lead, boss?"
    Atlas liked having a boss. Someone to give him a purpose for the first time ever.

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    Waldemar

    Waldemar looked over to Maxwell, “Zo, vhat are ve to do? The amount ov shadez inzide thiz girl is unzettling, to zay the leazt.” He refused to acknowledge the younger one who had misjumped, and was marginally terrified of the beast standing next to him. Though he had seen worse.
    Last edited by Reverend1124; 2013-01-30 at 09:18 PM.
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    OrcBarbarianGuy

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    All:

    GRMM

    Maxwell walks over and opens the door slowly, walking out into an empty hallway, more green torches lining the walls in either direction, the corridors stretching impossibly long lengths. There’s an odd howling noise, wind blowing in the distance.

    He looks left and right. “… Hn. Probably an illusion to unnerve us.” He sighs, and turns left. “They’ll come for us in due time.”

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    Waldemar

    “Wunderbar.” He was so hungry. It always became worse when he was inside a soulscape. Not wanting to show weakness, he suppressed it, and turned to follow Maxwell.
    Last edited by Reverend1124; 2013-01-30 at 09:17 PM.
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Atlas

    Atlas follows after Maxwell. "The dark things always come out when they're least expected. I don't like being constrained like this. They want us to feel fear, come at us from all sides...and devour us."

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    Waldemar

    “The dark thingz you speak ov do not inztill vear into me. It zuprisez me that zomething az large az yourzelv iz avraid ov them.” Waldemar looked around Maxwell to see that the hallway stretched on for an unknown length. He longed for whatever shades were hiding in wait for them to pass by to reveal themselves. He turned to look at Atlas and tapped his side to get his attention.

    To Atlas:
    Spoiler
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    Waldemar whispered to the giant, “I need your help vith something. I am poverless right now. I can explain later, but I need you to immobilize vone ov the shadez. I need to abzorb spirit energy, but since I hafe not in a vhile I cannot hope to take a shade on. Iv you can do thiz vor me, ve can safe the girl vaster than any ov you could imagine. Trust me.”
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Atlas

    "...I wasn't always like this. It took a long time for me to be able to protect myself. Even now, I'm not always sure I can.

    To Waldemar
    Spoiler
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    "As soon as I see one, I'll try and grab one for you. Be quick about it though; I've got a habit of crushing them to nothingness pretty fast.

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    BlackDragon

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    To Atlas
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    “Sehr gut. Az long az it ist veakened, all I need to ist touch it.”
    Last edited by Reverend1124; 2013-01-30 at 10:10 PM.
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Seth

    Seth jumped, and came into an oriental-looking world. In it, only mist and a man were to be seen. It was a strange soulscape, considering that New York wasn't that full of oriental people. Or did Seth just jump cross-continentally? That would be weird...

    In a second Maxwell appeared, saying "You misjumped". And before Seth could ask how Max was able to follow his jump, they both vanished in an explosion of bright light. Now, arriving at the destined soulscape, Seth couldn't help but to ask: "Tell me, Max, what soulscape was that? And how are you able to follow my jump?"

    Seth listened to the answer and then turned to the mission at hand. He had once again received the faint blue-ish glow he normally had in soulscapes, and felt the energy flow around him, like some sort of waterflow. He could perceive that of his comrades too, although much more faint than his own.

    The boys were talking about something, and so Seth decided to just ask: "Say, fella's, what're you talking about? I think that as a team we ought to share, don't we?"

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    Waldemar

    Waldemar looked up at Seth, noting the blue glow around him. The amount of energy surrounding him was amazing, but it only made it more difficult to suppress his hunger. He definitely should have grabbed that bite to eat before he came. He said curtly to Seth, “Wenn das Kind seine Kräfte zu kontrollieren lernt, dann werde ich halte ihn für meinen Teamkollegen.” Then he laughed and looked to Atlas. “So vhen you sait that you hafe seen soulz like thiz vone before, vhat dit you mean? Hafe you mate many jumpz in the past?”
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Atlas

    "...I wouldn't exactly call them jumps. That makes it sound intentional. More like I was dragged into some broken, deranged, or malicious individual's soul many times over the years.

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    Waldemar

    "Intereztink. I myself hafe only hat vone infoluntary jump many yearz ago. But now I hafe been jumpink for so lonk that it ist secont nature to me."
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    All:

    Maxwell pauses, weighing his response. "I don't know whose soulscape that was, or if we'll ever see him again. You made a random jump into someone else's soul, there was no real reason why you went into his."

    The group arrives at the end of the corridor, finding a spiral staircase that ascends to points unknown.

    (Notice check, y'all)

    "As for how I followed you, the wisps put a... highlight, of sorts, on each of you. For some reason, I can feel where you're at, and follow the signal." He remains silent at Seth's questioning of his teammates.

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    Atlas

    Atlas gazes upward. "Huh, endless corridors and everlasting staircases."

    Notice: (1d20+2)[9]

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    Waldemar

    “Wunderbar. First ve valk down a seemingly endless halvay, and now ve hafe a staircase that goes up for who knows how lonk.” Waldemar said, staring up into the void.

    Notice: (1d20+3)[17]
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Seth

    "So this little guy helped me out, huh?" Seth mentions, looking for the tiny wisp above his head. "Thanks little dude!"

    He walks along with the group, until he arrives at the 'endless' stairway.
    "That's a lot of steps, I've got to say"

    Spoiler
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    notice: (1d20+21)[33]

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    Maxwell sighs. “That is a lot of stairs.”

    Reverend and Gunnar
    Spoiler
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    Waldemar and Seth notice out of the corner of their vision that the green torches behind them are slowly turning red.


    “I suppose we go up. It's either that or turning around.” He murmurs, taking the first few steps.

    OOC: Sorry for confusion Gunnar, trying to figure out the skills issue.
    Last edited by Julian84; 2013-01-31 at 06:52 PM.

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    Waldemar

    Waldemar turned and looked at the once green lights. “Vhy are the lightz not grün? They turnet to rot.”
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Atlas

    Atlas turns and stares at the lights Waldemar mentioned. "I'm not sure, but it can't be good. We might want to get a move on up the stairs. I'll let the rest of you go first. I tend to block views if I'm in front."

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    Waldemar

    Waldemar turned away from the empty hallway behind them and looked back at the daunting staircase. It wasn't so much the amount of stairs that it was what might lie at the top. Maxwell had said the girl was broken, but they hadn't encountered any kind of defense, any shades...nothing that would point to there being a problem. And the lights changing color worried him a little more than he let on.

    "Vell, let us be goink then." he said as he started up the stairs.
    "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the same as the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." ~ Mark Twain

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    Space Lawyer's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2012
    Location
    The Future

    Default Re: Soul Jumpers IC

    Atlas

    Atlas follows up the stairs after Waldemar, his enormous frame moving far easier than it should. From green to red could mean a lot of things, but with the girl's cultural paradigm being what it was, it was unlikely to be anything good. As the red light draws closer, Atlas' shade turns to a deeper crimson as the torches shine off his skin.

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