A stranger, in the dark.'s page

In this altered timeline Dave...

The group of recently-rescued pour into the abandoned store. Chatter echoes through the spartan walls and the sounds of freedom so newly won ring about in hushed tones and the occasional muttering of a future plan.

Only one among them is not letting relief wash over him like a glacier-fed waterfall.

The who had called himself "Dave" stops in his tracks. He straightens, his hunched shoulders falling back and his body uncoils, like a seedling at last touched by the sun. The dour, homely expression that had weighed his face like a loadstone falls away and his face is young, fit, even handsome. He works his shoulders like a trossed man only just now untied.

"At last humanity will have it's revenge," he mumbles, but it's in a voice that none had heard. "At last a new Age of Man will grow from under this alien yoke."

All chattering stops and the group looks at him, mouths agape.

He turns as if only just now seeing these people. He brings a hand up to one eye. In a perfect Londoner york he gives the group a "Be Seeing You" and turns left...out of existence.

I notice the troll frowning at my foot. I look down. Yep, I trampled on some yellow and purple flower.

I look back up. And then, because I can't help myself, my unseen grin grows slightly as I dig my heavy heel in to the fertile dirt and drag it back, making a palbable, if utterly meaningless, furrow in the ground.

I'll never understand druids. They do know plants have evolved to grow out of control don't they? Even civilizations people call successful and advanced have entire crews dedicated to keeping the greenery from taking over.

I'll have a hard time not twerking his nose. I have to remind myself he's an ally, and, technically, I need his help. And he needs mine. Symbiotic.

I turn to the gnome. Warlock. Not the weird kind. Somehow the phrase "messing with powers beyond his comprehension" comes to mind. Can you ever master something you can neither conceive nor understand?

It's time get this party started.

And started parties are my favorite kind.

I walk toward the gnome, and he'll be assaulted by the smell of lilacs and strawberries.
Like, it's a hammer to the nose that something reallllly is smelling like lilacs and strawberries.

A lot.

A girlish giggle emits from the towering suit of metal...

...and it cracks open down the middle.

I take in the scene.

The dryad is...lovely. And graceful. And talkative.
Is she not a dryad?
I've never known a dryad to smoke, but she does so with such grace that she makes me wonder why all women don't smoke.
But that trick she does with the flower. Perhaps she is a nature elemental? That would be interesting....

Finnigan talks a lot. It's good for him. Hides his fear. How would he have done against the hydra? Ran back to Rosemary, I'd wager.

Vrindel. Ibrox. Trevor. They're not talking to me yet. Odd how this armor almost makes me invisible. Perhaps it does? I should think on that. Am I invisible now? Perhaps I did it without knowing.

The towering suit of armor, gleaming and perfect and wide and thick, with a great and heavy shield bolted to its off arm at last moves. The shield arm swings up and the head turns to look down at...something. The right hand ducks to the left forearm and does...something.

No, I'm not invisible now. Had to check.

I'll wait for them to talk.

Is this rude? I'm not sure. But it is intriguing. And isn't that what's important?

We come across a massive patch of giant, purple flowers.

There are no bees around. Not now. Of course not now.

Fin knows these. He says they make a potent brew. Figures he would know about them.

I smile. I encourage him to talk. He talks on matters of import so little, it's important to let him impress when he thinks he can.

The new armor still had some kinks.

I make no effort to hide my presence, so my heavy footfalls leave large rents in the ground.

Even Fin notices. Which says something, because he doesn't notice anything.

Still, it was good to find him, in the village.

I still don't really have my bearings after...well, just recently.

We come across the carcass. A huge hydra, on the surf.

I smile. Quite a battle.

We must be getting close.

'Ooooo. The FireMan!' I think, having already given him a nickname, as is my habit.

'Well, I didn't get to where I am by being shy,' I think as I march up to him. Again, cute. But I thought he'd be taller.

As I walk up to the Fireman, I pull my scarf down, revealing my face, and he sees...a girl.

I chuckle as I recognize the con they're running. Normally, if I wasn't on biznez, I'd round up a few sammysams, just whisper in their ear that I got a feelin' about a curbbeat and I'd do the heavy lifting myself. But karma's a me, an' time's a tide, so no need.

Drek, I can't really slam them anyway, I might-a done the same meself, had I thought. Frag, this time with RockOn and D-...

I shake myself, coming to the now. That's...that's all done now. Gotta be zen. Dumb place must have bad air, wipe my eyes, scarf is double useful.

Frag this L4meZ0rz scratch. T3h Net is tossing up fresh reads. I hit the HUD and my steps again hit the ferrocrete---no, they don't got that here, fragging barbarians.

New pix, high rez. Yup, thems mah peeps. Probably. Cute. But I thought they'd be taller.

Grafter ho!

The town was kinda dull after I delivered my missive--seems a waste of my wizness, but ain't that how it is? It's not like back home, but now, few things are, good or bad.
I was thinking about talking a long walk when the 'Net started flowing. Finally. Some excitement. My first peg was for my people, and of course I was right. No Fed dandies could make 'splodies that pretty for the trid. I should stop calling it a trid.

As the news comes fresh, I strap on the Huntsman, toss on the fabulous scarf, and mount the twin 227s. First stop is Blitz Street. The flotsam an' jetsam at the only decent stop in this two star town, the Sweet Doomed Angel, they might know. Was I them an' this famous, that's where I'da head.

Before I step, I jaz th' chips an' check. 'Hey Vikky, how's baby an' bottle?'

-I and the containment unit are under satisfactory conditions.-

Chill.

*snaps fingers*
Ignore this.
*snaps fingers some more*
Ignore this.
*keeps snapping fingers*
Ignore me doing this.

...no matter how arcane or esoteric. ^_^

Quietly at first, like the drone of a thousand mayflies, gradually growing in volume and confidence. "Name. What is a...name? We've never needed any name. Not when we were created. Not when we were brought aboard this vessel by your ...Captain. Not when we escaped our capsule in the air vents. Not when we multiplied and infected this ship and its life forms. Not when we learned your speech and took on your form."

Now more clearly facing Sapphire "What is our name?"

**************

A shadowed hand takes the offered briefcase, it's contents brimming with high-denomination credit bills--an archaic practice still in vogue amongst the seedier elements.

"You shall have what you need, Lord Borak. I have dealt with a certain...entity, before."

"They need to die horribly. Fail me not."

"I am called...,"

...

Fair nuff. =)

The Stranger nods at the questions from Moves With Grace. "A fair cop. Suffice that for the now my goals are your goals. You seek to make right unto a thing that can not continue and make it not continue. I have caught wind of such and I am a ally in this quest.

Thusly we put to rest the What and and the why of it. As to who I am? Let us make introductions all around."

The Stranger shakes the hand of all who offer their name. Then he replies. "Welcome, welcome. You are all well come.

I am called,"

The Stranger amicably follows along, for all the world just out for a stroll with new friends. The girl follows along, a respectful distance behind. Any other sounds which might resemble a giant spider are of course very silly are will be fully ignored.

"Yes, I meant to compliment you for that. I've seen many, many spells cast in my time, but a full church pew? That -is- something new. And showing -me- something new is a _high_ compliment indeed! You are honored." He finishes with a respectful bow of his head.

Ah! A whole week? Oh. Um. Ah, okay. I...I didn't know that.

Bump?

1d8 ⇒ 6half is 3, minus 1 = 2

"Gah!" The Stranger calls out as the arrow finds his flesh. After Moves so gallantly deflected it, he waved at it randomly with his dagger, and, fortunately and by shear luck the thing glanced off it. Darnedest totally random thing.

"OH confound you, youth!" the Stranger answers Moves as he clutches to his bleeding side. "Here I am, an old man in strange lands, you have the gall! The unmitigated audacity to speak as though we sit down to tea and I am but dancing around a subject for my own pleasure. EXCUSE ME if mine own blood, pouring forth onto the flowing pave is of a slightly higher priority than seeing that I bow and curtsy for _your_ pleasure Your bad manners are exceeded only by your bad manners.

Ach. Imagine my sweet, go and get some cloths from thy mother."

The beautiful young girl wordlessly nods and turns. She reaches in to...nothing. If there is a thing there either it doesn't exist, or your mind refuses to believe in it. Some words from a kindly female are heard, they're the kind of voice that will tell you that you look too thin and you need to eat up the chicken pot pie and apple cobbler and 2-liter of red mountain dew that she has here just for you. "Oooo, did the poor deary hurt himself again? You must tell him to be more careful, won't you dear? Here, put some of these on him and see if that won't make him right as rain. He really should see to his health, the poor dear isn't as young as he used to be."

Imagine turns and suddenly has bandages in her hands. White and clean and smelling faintly of herbs, she wraps the Stranger's wound. The bleeding at least stops and he feels strong enough to stand.

"Now then, my young friend. How about we walk and find our friends, eh? They are apart from us and we should at least gather together. For if a man said something now, a man would just have to repeat himself later, eh?

Go on, I'll follow you," he says, as he leans heavily on the girl. "I believe if we walk that way we'll find them eventually."

As the Stranger walks he wonders, '_Do_ I know who that elf is?'
Spout Lore: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (4, 1) + 1 = 6

Pong?

What are we waiting on?

Oh, and Moves, Imma leave it to DM Loopy to field that one. Both of us have the playbook, but for some reasons its kinda Out of print. Go figure! =p

The stranger smiles and nods at Fizzwiddle as if they were neighbors walking on their way to church. "Greetings to you. Honor and admiration to you and thy Way. Many tossers of mana have I seen, and none have been so puissant (Dammit Spellchecker, that IS a word!) as to actually through a fully made pew. I hope to get to know you better when circumstances are less...hectic."

The Stranger looks up as the elf takes aim and Moves moves in between. The smile runs from his face and his expression deepens into a dark cloud. "I had thought to deal sweetlty with you!" he calls across the distance at the elf and paladin. "Though you know that I am not famous for my patience, I still have played you fair! I had thought to get along on the right foot. But NAY! You take the road of the bandit! Of the common thug! Of the brigand! Of the low brute that knows only to 'skwahsh da talky man an' hims wot is not in da WAAAAAGH!'"

If one were to remark that this was a -dead on- impression of an orcish warboss, that person would not be called wrong.

"Fine.

In abundance!"

The Stranger makes a small motion with his hand, and near the paladin and elf two rocks glow silver*. Rising from the ground, they each grow spiked blades! The sharp weapons begin to twirl and drill and they charge toward the pair at rocket speed!

Spend one hold to do damage to all enemies within the area.: 1d6 ⇒ 5

*I'd link to a Youtube clip of "Phantasm", but I know how squeamish people can get about horror clips. So if you want to see some silver spheres killing people, just search for it on your own. It's not hard to find. ^_^

this is all Fizzwiddle's fault. ;) Also, technically where I said we were is still true. We're a ways from the pally and elf. And also everyone else. =)

The stranger smiles kindly and says, "no."

But the path is still there.

The stranger smiles in a kindly way. "Ah youth. I guarantee you that at some point in the future we will take our ease by one way, or another. Either we will be bereft of life and breath, and thus have no need for labels, or we will take bread and meat with good tea, and then the labels will mean things.

Perhaps in that direction you may find something worthwhile to strive against? One way...or another."

The small isle of solid ground they stand upon now seems well saturated with small stones. If one squints they look like a starburst pattern. Imagine nods, satisfied with her work, and replaces the bag on her leather traveling belt.

"There! That will be exciting. Now, my young friend Moves. I am but an old, feeble man, and it appears that machine-monstrosity is not going to listen to reason. What do you plan to do about it?"

In this place of swirling realities where even the very ground is not so much a "thing" as an "idea", the destination that the red stone leads to a spot of solid ground, roughly 30 feet away from the paladin and the elf--a distance good for either closing to quarters, or keeping one's distance. It's also at a right angle to the charge-path of the battlemech, making its pursuit maximally difficult.

Of course this is all probably coincidental.

The Stranger smiles at Moves With Grace. His face is kindly and the smile hints at sharing an inside joke only the two of them share. "Hush, good friend. We're not there yet. Let us be away from threat and danger before we practice the sacred art of greetings and salutations.

I admit you have a most interesting style. You must teach some of it to my assistant. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Imagine?"

The tension!!

The Stranger bends and twists, avoiding the collapse of the mass of humanity. Almost as if he knew it would happen.

All According To Plan: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 1) + 1 = 7

Staring down, he advised the the rest of the group hug in his deep, dulcet tones. "If you want, you can step on the red stone. It will see you to...another place."

Gain 2 hold. Spending 1 hold to Open a passage or escape route.

True to his word, the stranger steps one of the many rocks that had been dispensed by his assistant earlier. Followed by his beautiful young assistant, they both disappear and reappear a short distance away.

The stranger continues. He's oration grows, gradually increasing the area his voice encompasses. Though he initially addresses the paladin, it isn't clear if he's the target audience.

"Indeed, you remind me of young officer a I heard about. One day he was sent on hunt, he was told a man was guilty, and that he needed to bring the man in. The officer caught the man, but in the struggle, the man was killed. The officer came in, expecting a commendation, but instead was tried for unlawful murder. He went too far, and didn't think his actions through all the way."

It isn't clear what the stranger is talking about, but his words are so..._moving_. He -really- believes in what he's saying...

Oh hell here we go...Monologue!: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 3) + 2 = 10

For a moment all stand and stare, enthralled by the odd man's story. Even, perhaps, the mech charging the pirate might take pause, and stand enraptured, leaving off his deadly charge?

"So! What say you? I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Leave off, say you couldn't find us. And in return we can avoid any...unnecessary complications.
You know of which I speak."

Ninjaed! Oh let's just go with it and see what happens!

Parlay! With Monologue!: 2d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (6, 3) + 2 + 1 = 12

The young girl continues with her odd ritual. She saturated a large area by now. She must take her dogma very seriously.

The girl behind the man reaches into a sack on her belt and starts tossing out pebbles. She mumbles a little with each throw, sometimes tossing many, sometimes just one. She tosses them near and far. It must be a religious ceremony of some kind.

The stranger turns and sees the paladin, possibly for the first time. He chuckles, deeply and good-naturedly. "Me? You quite well know that _my_ reasons and designs are my own. If I told you then it would go hard with you, for it meant you were part of it.

The moral of the story is that you should find another bone to chase. You are not part of the plan, which makes you an obstacle. And you know what I do with obstacles...."

The stranger never stops smiling.

Atlas2112 is playing someone that is literally a stranger in the dark.

This can only go well. ;-)

You see an older man. Possibly oriental? It's hard to tell.

He's dressed smartly. Finely cut robe and finely cut hat sit atop recently cut hair. He wears strange, dark glasses, so dark that it's hard to tell how he can see out of them. He's...kind. And good-looking. Clearly not a threat. He reminds you of a favorite uncle, or some other older male with whom you had a kind connection.

At his side is a young and curvaceous female. She is as beautiful as he is handsome, but in a more aggressive way. As assertive is her blue-skinned body, she clearly has a deferential manner to the man. She must be either a butler or a bodyguard. But who would want to hurt him?

The space-time behind them is disturbed a third time and...nothing comes out. No one present sees a four-legged wagon, and, even if they did, their brain would not process it, so inconceivable is such an odd thing. So it's absence is not felt.

As if in ironic answer to the question of harm, the elderly winter-mage turns and spins, her weapon held in an expert grip, delivering a powerful attack, perfectly executed.

But the man is simply not there. He's stepped to the side. (Before she even moved?) Almost as if he knew she would attack before she did.

"Impressive, Shvibzik," he says in a deep, friendly voice with a kind grin and the easy familiarity of an old friend. "That's even faster than our last meeting. I had hoped to avoid that...but such is your way." He smiles at the Winter Herald. Right now his name doesn't immediately come to mind, though he does seem at least slightly familiar.

The stranger lifts his gaze, taking in the scene unfolding before him: The pirate, the golem, the arrow shooter...the questioning man before him.

"Apologies, but we've no time for pleasantries. Well now, what do we have here?" he asks of no one and everyone.

I walk up to where the cleric and the Governor are talking and put a hand to my breast in mock terror. "Oh my. One among us is not as they seem? Who could that be?"

I pantomime looking around in panic, trying to found some attacker.

"Let us pray something more sinister is not afoot! Truly, noble hero, thou wilt save a poor damsel in distress as myself from the terrors of the night!

I am..."

I look the cleric full in the face and pull back my hood.

Alright, it looks like we need a little gas on the fire. =)

Yes, it is absolutely suspicious that I know anything about any of you. Of course I might just be assuming based on what I know about -one- of you. Or things that I used to know but have now twisted beyond recognition as my memory was purged and brainwashed by forces beyond your ken. Or I'm just messing with you and don't actually know anything and I'm just trying to make conversation. You don't think that I'm Eziel, or anyone that was ever seen around him, but my face is hidden and a lot things are happening, so it's hard to be sure. Or none of these and it's something else entirely. ;-)

Sublimely surprised that wayward mercs will live another day, I turn away and follow the tail-end of the civilian train into the secret path. Hanging back, I walk along next to Grim the priest. "I'm honestly surprised," I say, my voice husky and rich, like an old brandy served in crystal. "From what I had been told, I didn't think this group knew how to talk their way out of anything. That is...surprising. And not entirely bad."

So now it seems like we, the party, should attack the patrol? Should you/we do so now, or wait until the patrol rushes us?

So...are they gonna attack us? Or do we get out scot-free?

I was assuming that a fight would somehow break out and I might assist then. But it sounds like everyone is moving passively to safety.

I keep my head down and my cloak up, as I play shepherd to the rear end of villagers, making sure that any stranglers do not overly linger.

Casting furtive glances at our saviors, I take in the lay of the land, planning out my moves once everyone else is safely away.

Sry. I didn't know if you meant that figuratively or literally.

Father Falconmoon calls out from the door. "We are ready, my children. Simply point out the path to safety and we shall follow. Blessings upon you for your good deeds this day."

Eadyan lifts the bar out of the way and opens the door.

I turn to Father Falconmoon and nod. "Alright, beseems this is as good as it's gonna get, all things considered. Go ahead and stay at the head of the procession. I'll go to the rear and make sure everyone follows along well enough."

I raise the hood of my cloak and go to where the lines are ending, making sure that everyone is queued properly and gets to getting when the getting is good.

"YOU JUST SAID THINGS DON'T GO AS PLANNED! HOW ABOUT YOU KILL THEM -BEFORE- WE ALL LEAVE INSTEAD OF AFTER THEY'VE HAD A CHANCE TO CHARGE IN AMONG US!!"

I nod and turn to the priest. "Unlock the door now, to save time. After we hear the clash of arms end, we'll quickly throw open the bolt and we all can rush out, through their tunnel."

A muffled voice answers Hutch's call.

"Yes, by all means just go and leave more innocents to die.

That is what you're best at, isn't it?"

I stalk close to the priest and whisper in his ear. "Mmmph. The neutral Lord of the Dead is not exactly the best news we could get. Either way, they'll need to clear the perimeter if we're to get this many people out, don't ya think?"

I dart forward and start stamping out the torch, glaring daggers at the woman for not doing so herself.

Then I back off, my head on a swivel, watching for other such attack. If any more pyromantic attempts are more productive, I may not be able to wait for the drama with the battering ram to play out.

I'm going to do something I've never done before--I'm going to write in first person. And I'll use this alias until...the Big Reveal! dun Dun DUN! =)

I fold my arms and continue to stare outside. A wry smile cracks my face. 'Well well well...this is interesting. Hmmmm, still the same, after all these years.'

I take a side-long glance, examining the door that has held for this long.

How is the door secured from this side?