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"You've got a good pitch, mate! How's about a helpin' hand?"
That was Oz's complication kicking in. Now that he is getting more comfortable with taking on this form, its impulses are becoming more apparent.
Please, I encourage any action against him! He's naive to the idea that using the powers of the nightmare realm would have it's consequences, and he's not as particularly strong-willed as his father.
Oswald comes prepared with his signature rugby shorts, his father's old slouch hat, and a large insulated bag slung over his shoulder. "So I got us some snacks in case we get hungry. I figured if we're going to 'Stralia, I'd grab us some vegemite sandwiches and a couple'a Fosters for the trip." Once everyone is ready to depart, Oswald cracks open a cold one. The blurred umbral form of the nightmare demon overtakes him as he takes a long cold chug of the Fosters. "Tsssss Ahhhhhh. Ain't nothin' like a cold Fosters."
ahhh as someone who uses heroforge often, I did not think to make Oz using it. I did a very spooky monstrous version of Oz that requires a specific angle to get the proper effect, and I have a mid-transformation Oswald. Oz, the Walking Nightmare
@Black Dow, you did! I imagine his look to be very unnerving, and you captured that. My take just cranks things up to an obnoxious level.
The Shade skitters around the floor in amazement. He'd seen many things in the shadowed halls of the Nightmare realm but that? "THAT WAS HILARIOUS! AHHHHAHAHAHA... THE TENSION, THE SUSPENSE, THE IMMINENT DANGER, THE PUDDLE OF VISCERAL GUTS AND GORE. TELL ME, ELDRITCH, WERE YOU SCARED? BE HONEST, KNIGHT-- DID FEAR LICK AT THE HAIRS ON THE BACK OF YOUR NECK? PRIESTESS, DID YOU BEGIN TO FALTER? DID THE THOUGHT OF BREAKING YOUR VOWS CROSSED YOUR MIND? MAGUS, YOUR CORE WAS SHAKEN WAS IT NOT?"
"I don't feel well. That-- that wasn't me I am so sorry."
I have no opinion one way or another, as Oswald is practically a man-child with no knowledge of what's come before him. I am looking forward to having Eoten and the good Professor back on the team though! As for PP, I'm still undecided. Right now, I'm not sure what role Oz plays on the team. I may restructure to better suit an actual role if that's ok.
They take their marching orders from a giant moon computer that already spat out one handful of gods from one of its simulations and they still think keeping the damn thing on is a good idea.Excuse me, but that's top secret information. lmao I pretend I did not see it
Recognizing Briareus's debilitating grasp from their years of working together, The Hypnotist unleashes a Stare from the core of nightmares in hopes to rattle Una further.
Mac takes in the sights. It's not hard to see chaos is coming. He tucks away in an alley, retrieves his phones from his pocket and makes a call to his wife and son. Unsurprisingly neither respond. He'd made it a bad habit to disappear for work without communicating with them. Surely his wife thought he'd run off with another woman. He always said he'd get better at it, and for awhile, he did, but he could never tell the truth. "My love, I'm sorry for the disappearance. This has been a tough wedge in our marriage, and I am ashamed that I've never been able to come out and say it. I know it's stupid of me, but I.... I'm sorry this is best left to a conversation in person. Just know that what you're seeing in Freedom City now... I won't allow it to go on much longer. I'll explain everything once this is over, just the three of us. I couldn't love another as much as I love you and Ozzie, Gillian. Know that to you, I've always been true, but I've not done right by you. I just--- he chokes at the thought of admitting his truth, that he's a costumed hero. The secret nearly claws it's way further down his throat, creating a lump.
"Ozzie, I've not been a good father to you, I will admit that. I've got a lot of explaining to do. Just know that you and your mother have always been at the heart of what I do. 'For a better tomorrow' and allat. M'boy, after this, you'll know everything, the bloodline, the dreamtime-- everything. I'm sorry I've not been present, but I promise everything changes after today. I love you, Oz. I'll see you when this is all over." Mac stifles back tears, and rejoins the others.
The Hypnotist maintains his seated position, waiting for the final hero to enter. Once he's left in the Adytum alone, he opens his eyes and looks into the portal. It'd been awhile since he's worked with others, let alone brought newcomers into the Dreamtime. A few days earlier, most of them were strangers" he thinks to himself, "funny how peril can bring strangers close together. Uncrossing his legs and rising to his feet, he shudders as he approaches the portal. The shudder grows into full body shakes as each step brings him closer to the dreamtime. Anxiety begins to chomp at him, a cacophonous clarion ringing in his ears. Gracie turns to him and says something, but he can't quite make it out. Her face, young, confused, innocent to the ways of the universe and the world of magic just like... His stomach begins to whirl as he steps into the portal. The fabric of the Adytum unravels and disolves behind him. Her face haunts him. "I-I-I'm.." The ringing gets louder the longer he looks at Gracie, yet he cannot draw his eyes away. "...I'm so sorry..." First sweat, then tears begin to fall. "...it was an accident..." The horrific sounds of serpent tongues chanting, arcane energies, thunder, and in the distance-- a deep, gutteral almost moaning growl--no longer only in The Hypnotist's head. He falls to his knees and crawls towards Gracie, wallowing. "..I didn't mean to..." The Realm of Dreams beneath him shifts and skews itself to... Lantern Hill Cemetary, 1984. A massive feral beast-man in the distance obliterates the cemetary gates. Despite his distance once can clearly see that his eyes burn bright blue with animalistic rage. As the serpantine Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign continue their encantations, the beast-man tramples closer.
"Take a look 'round, Good Knight. These two look more at home than we do. Throw a cloak on us lot and we'd be a regular bunch-a bogans muckin about"
The Hypnotist turns sharply and faces his would-be assailant without an ounce of fear in his body. ”You brutes! Intimidation is your only language! Then, let me speak to you in a tongue most familiar to your ilk.”
Ah, Freedom Hall. No amount of familiarity could ever tarnish that magic for Mac. Summer of 1987. Siren brought him in as an expert in Psychiatry and Hypnotherapy. From there, his rolodex of patients grew. If it wasn't for that chance call... He shook the thought out of his head. There are pressing matters, no need to take a stroll. The Hypnotist surveys the room.
The others... much younger. Most definitely of a newer generation. A familiar face materializes as Mac takes count of the others around the room. "Briareus--Dunnie!Dear friend, how the hells are you?! It's been quite a while! You've got to stop by the house sometime, I know the family would love to see you! How about we take care of this problem now and first round is on me afterwards, ye?"
The Night Watch Issue #7: THE NIGHT OF UNDOING The Sorcerer of Slumber, The Hypnotist The Titan of Antiquity, Dunwich Horror The Shapeshifting Sculptress of Shadows, Vesperina The Card-Slingin' Mystic, Johnny Gambler The Hot-Blooded, Hard-Boiled Detective, Crimsyn Dread The Night Watch. Brought together to solve the mysteries of the night. Their first case: the disappearance of a young woman, Marianne Crane, who may have involved herself with dark powers. The mystery was ever-winding, each turn adding another layer, another question without an answer. Their investigation lead them through the cobblestone colonial streets of Lantern Hill to the mystically-charged Lantern Hill Cemetary. It was on consecrated grounds that The Night Watch learn of the heinous plot at hand... Marianne Crane, the detective Crimsyn Dread-- one and the same. Working as an agent of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, Crimsyn lead The Night Watch on a chase to gather relics tied to the ghastly protector of Lantern Hill, Lantern Jack, to banish him once and for all. By forming the team and getting close to each member, she ruled herself out of the mystery, yet she was pulling the strings the whole time. Ever manipulative, Crane sowed distrust among the Night Watchers. Luckily, they saw through Crane's, and the Brotherhood's, nefarious plot, but they were not without their casualties. Outnumbered and overpowered by the Brotherhood, the sorcerer of slumber--The Hypnotist-- channeled his most dangerous champion: The Yowie. Ravenous and feral, The Hypnotist ripped through the Brotherhood, letting no one stop his attack on Crane. As Marianne Crane's banishment ritual slowly reached completion, The Hypnotist devoured the woman-- or he would have, were it not for Vesperina. Vesperina, pure of heart, saw the bloodlust in The Hypnotists eyes and knew that regardless of her transgressions, Marianne Crane did not deserve to die. The beast channeling through The Hypnotist saw no difference. Vesperina laid mangled, dying on Old Lantern Hill. The ritual foiled. Lantern Hill's timeless defender, Lantern Jack, safe. The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign slithered back into their crypts, while Marianne Crane, AKA Crimsyn Dread, was turned over to authorities. The Hypnotist was besides himself with pain and guilt. The Shapeshifting Sculptress of Shadows dead, and it was all his fault. It would take him years to return to the life of a super. The Night Watch quietly disbanded.
For the love of gods, add "I'd buy THAT for a dollar!" to that list
Gavin leads the group to his family's home. A mouthwatering aroma, rich in herbs, wafts down the mighty vallenwood, along with a jovial sea shanty on the pan flute.
The home belonged to Gavin's maternal grandfather. With his grandfather's passing, and his father's injury at sea, his grandmother decided that it would be best if Saria and Kallos took the home to give Gavin a "proper" upbringing. In keeping with Grandmother's wishes, the Carroways improved what grandfather in old age couldn't. The stairs leading up, the doors and window frames all appeared to be relatively new. Though modest, their home had a very elegant look, as most artisan's homes typically do. Knocking was unnecessary. The Carroways had an open door policy during meals, and often planned on a neighbor or two stopping by. The warm glow of home made Gavin the happiest he'd been in years. The only thing he loved more than being with friends was being with family, and he missed his family very much. Gav pops into the open doorway as his mother, Saria, puts the finishing touches on her pot roast, and his father, Kallos plays another song on his pan flute. Grandmother Tora is the only one to see the group approach the door, as she assists Saria. She cracks a wide grin, but contains her excitement. As Kallos plays his song, Gavin joins in. "Weeelllll! I left me lady alone at home, oh save 'er save 'er for me!
Teary-eyed, both Kallos and Saria jump to hug Gavin.
At the sound of Thistletorp, Kallos eyeballs all of the smaller knick knacks in the house. "Now Thistle, if any of my belongings go missing, I'd hope they find their way right back to where the belong." Saria and Kallos jump at the sight of Jakun. Wow. Who would've thought that he'd find his way to Solace! They embrace him as they embraced Gavin. They both regarded Jakun as family and they were just as ecstatic to see him as they were to see Gavin. though it had been years since they've needed to, they both fell into a half-Kothian speak, switching back and forth between their languages. "Jakun! Child, you've grown! What a... Wow! Things aren't as exciting here, but it is what Kallos needs after he nearly got his back broken in two. What brings you to Solace? Is everything all right at home? And a WIZARD! Kallos, would you look at that! Mischievous little Jakun, a wizard! Please, sit. We'll have to catch up." As they question Jakun, Gavin closes the front door.
Even with a character death, you still had me interested. Great job, and a great group. I've never had a death that I was happy with, and I felt like it added to the drama. Again, it was awesome.
Ripples of light flash in his eyes as the darkness takes him. He falls to the growing lake below him, lifeless but for the faint arcane glimmer oozing it's way out of his wounds. He hears them, as a small hum,the thinnest of whispers, calling out to him. Swirls of color twisting slowly out of the darkness, growing, burning bright as day. Three silhouettes, long, slender, tower over the Keeper. A cold four-fingered hand brushes the ichor off of his brow before cradling his head. "You've done well, Nanuq." speaks the first. The second takes hold of his hands, easily engulfing them in their own. "We thank you, Good Nanuq." The third silhouette places their hands on Aught's wounded chest, applying pressure.
The alabaster warrior sinks deeper into the ever-growing water.
Lost in thought,he stumbles and knocks into another part of the study.
Once the two are seated, Aught returns to his kneeling position. He places his cold stone-like hands on his cold stone-like lap and watches as the three enjoy their food. Taking a look across the common room, he notices the range of emotions in the interactions. Joy, dread, shock and amazement, life forms laughing while they fill their mouths with food. In all his time, he has never consumed a single bite of the stuff. Perhaps a stray insect or two who mistook him for a statue, but that was an accident and he'd probably never fess up to it. Eating was just not a thing that Keepers did, whether Winter or Summer Guard. These cultural norms did not carry well with the Keepers, yet it seemed to be such an important one to everyone else. Maybe he can try? His alabaster eyes return to the table. He watches as the three eat their sausages, sweet rolls and huffaberries.
He juts his heavy arm out, crashing into the bowl of huffaberries. He grabs a handful and closes his fist a little too tight, sending huffaberry juice squirting out towards his new companions. He lifts his arm up sharply to his open mouth and sends the handful of squished berries flying, some making his mouth, some finding their way elsewhere. Aught chomps down on the berries with his best imitation and gives Suchak, Horn and Podrick a great big, accomplished smile, marble-white muzzle stained with berry juice. "Eating...is so much fun!"
Aught stands from his kneeling position,being sure to hold eye contact with the serpant-kin. After all, proper eye contact is culturally appropriate, and the last thing he wanted was to be rude.
Here's some rough fluff. I don't know much about the setting so I'm gonna try to be as vague as possible. If something doesn't mesh well, by all means, feel free to change it to your liking.
Possibilities
The Keepers (12rp)
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