[OPEN] Zen
OOC: Sign-ups are still open, since the RP hasn't really kicked off quite yet. Hurry up and send in your forms if you plan on joining.
Chief leaned against the wall. Through the amber tint of his aviator's sunglasses, he could see an empty street. Some tall streetlights shed their ruddy light onto the black pavement, creating spots of colour and life in the night. Rain was hitting the road and pouring into the drains loudly, and no one was out and about. Not that anyone should be. It was well past curfew, and the people knew well that old Chief would get 'em good if they stepped out of line.

He was an honourable man. He kept the law. In fact, he'd given his right eye and his left middle finger in the name of justice-- some of his favourite things, to be sure. It was all worth it in the end, though. Chief wouldn't get his eye and finger back if he could. It was part of the job. You picked up after the scum and didn't complain, copper's honour.

That's why he was really here. The thin, gnarled nose above his bushy black moustache had smelled a crime brewing here a long time ago. Something big. Something that would get his hands dirty. The first real crime in years, probably. Chief had dedicated his life to fighting the evil and protecting the good, as had all his ancestors. His given name was Chief, damn it. He lived for this job, but he rarely got to leap into action. Things were quiet around here, real quiet. But he had a feeling that would all change soon.

Real soon.

"Here you still stand, after all these years?" whispered a cold voice into Chief's good ear. Only one man would know which ear was his good one. It was him, after all. The hair's on the back of Chief's neck stood on edge.

"Figured you'd show your face around here, eventually," Chief said without turning around. His voice echoed down the alley. "Well, your body, anyway. You don't seem to be very fond of showing your face at all, what with that damned mask and all."

There was a fumbling of cloth, and the hairs on Chief's neck laid back down. Ballyhoo rematerialised in front of Chief, wrapped up tight in his black cloak. It was no worse for wear than it had been a millenium ago. The man always had taken good care of his belongings.

"It certainly has been a long time," the man said, thin lips hardly parting. His teeth were still bright white. They should have been rotting out of his head at this point. Another thing he'd have to ask him about, someday.

"And I'm wearing a blue hat," Chief snarled. "Listen, if we're just going to sit around stating obvious things... well, I've got places to be, all right?"

Ballyhoo squinted his eyes. "Yes, well..." He trailed off. He always did that. It was one of Chief's least favourite things about him. "I don't believe you do. You were here long before I appeared and intended to stay long after, had I not come along today. You've been waiting, haven't you?"

Chief ground his teeth. How did he always know what he was thinking? "Yeah, I have," he replied. "You're pretty predictable, always have been. You won't stay out of jail forever. I'll get you soon."

"Why not now, then?"

"Because..." Chief paused. Why not now?

"Because you're weak," Ballyhoo said with a grin, loosening his cloak. "You aren't going to catch me. Not this time. I have a special weapon, the likes of which this city has never seen. You'll be my slave soon enough."

Chief's finger itched. His gun seemed to burn at his hip. One shot, and this bastard would be dead forever. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though. His arm untensed, and he felt weaker than he had in a long time.

Ballyhoo's cloak unfolded violently, as though pushed back by wind, and its wearer flew back like a flat leaf in the breeze. Ah, so it still does that, Chief thought. Good to know. I'll have to remember that. The cloak had taken the shape of a large pair of wings, and Ballyhoo now rode the wind back to...

Back somewhere. Chief straightened the wrinkles out of his outfit and got in his car. With a turn of the key it began to hum, and he cruised back to his station, head practically blistering with thought.

And the rain continued to fall.
OOC: Your following posts can be used to introduce your characters, set some conflict, whatever. Just don't get too into the details yet.
? // ?[url=http://weeb.space][/url]
This was not the first time Ozihcs attempted to escape the asylum. With his black umbrella, he could jump out his window and disappear from this boring life for ever, taking an electric torch with him to light up his way, which was usually filled with uncanny visions and other strange phenomena. He had not expected, however, that a strong gust of wind would catch him in mid-air, and swing him even higher up into the cloudy skies. Following him was that monster from his dreams, the flying dog-monkey with the long tail. Ozihcs tried to wave the monster away with his umbrella, but Ozi - which was the monster's name - had been caught by the wind also, and drifted up with him.

When Ozihcs thought he was heading down again, he fell into a black spiral on the sky and was suddenly turned upside-down. Ozi, of course, followed him all the way.

It was in a quiet city during an eternal night that Ozichs finally touched ground. His umbrella softened his fall as well as protected him from the heavy rain that was constantly smashing down. Although the city was quiet as a grave - not counting the rainfall - Ozihcs felt a hundred eyes watching him from the houses and the alleys. He stared around, but saw no one; even Ozi had disappeared out of sight. Well, nice to be rid of that dream-monster for a while, he thought and started to walk slowly down the street. Let's look for a train station, so that we can travel home to our own galaxy, he said to himself, still feeling uncomfortable in the dark city. Nasty people, live here, he thought. They come at night with their strange fiddles, watches, electronic matches, evil eyes, plans in their pockets . . .

He bumped into a body then, his umbrella having blocked part of his sight. Ozihcs was short, so he probably had to look up at the person to study the face, whoever it was . . .
Three days earlier

The only time Kathira truly missed her wings was in the middle of a downpour like this one. Wings could be used as makeshift umbrellas, if they were flexible enough, and you could stand to be consciously drenching your feathers. Never mind that feathers tended to be such a pain to dry off. As was, this downpour was making the cyborg very very glad her cybernetics were waterproof. Couldn't actually swim, though.

The rain seemingly never stopped, as the overcast clouds attested, nor would it seem that the sun was going to rise any time soon. The high buildings made the street she was in feel oppressive, especially since they seemed to poke up above the clouds. And the grime and the dark of this city, or at least the apparent underside she'd found herself in, gave every impression that maybe here was the better place to be. Well, 'better'...more where a Seraph would be needed.

But maybe learning where exactly 'here' was would be a good start. She'd just made a jump from about 350 universes away, from a lovely place where everyone apparently spoke french and little squid like CAVIRD had just taken the shape of could be raised on land. Although the less said about the maniac who threw a piranha at a car, the better. She knew roughly where the universe was in relation to any other universe but spatial teleportation wasn't something she was good at and knowing what universe you were in wasn't helpful when dealing with things in it.

Thankfully, there seemed to be a local nearby who she decided to ask the crucial questions to. 'Hi, I've just got here, could you answer a few crucial questions for me?'
The local's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Depends what you want from me.'
'This is going to sound weird but bear with me. What city is this, what street is this, what time is it, what year is it, what region is this, and who's in charge of everything?'
The local blinked. 'Uh, you really don't know? Everyone here knows this stuff, it's not like...' he mumbled, then tried to piece together an actual answer. 'We're in the city of Vronox, which...uh, takes care of itself, really. We're on Sixth Avenue, by the way.' He checked his watch. 'It's twenty past four in the afternoon, and it's 1937. Where exactly are you from? I've never seen anything like you before.'
'I'm from elsewhere. Best not to question that, I need to find a bit of footing before I can start explaining things to people,' Kathira said with a sheepish smile. 'Sorry, hate to be cryptic. Thanks, I'll get outta your hair now.' She ran off and took as many junctions as she could to try to get a rough idea of the city's layout.

It looked to be decidedly one of those 'noir' universes she'd usually tried to steer clear of whenever possible. Of course, there were always variations--this looked to have genuinely perpetual rain--and it was always possible that something more bizarre than was usual for the setting would show up. There was one universe she'd been to where folks still building mudhuts had apparently started building energy weapons, and that was the only thing higher tech than, well...mudhuts. With no explanation. Some universe really were odd. This looked practically normal, though, a far cry from the pocket monster dominated society she'd just left. And, judging from the cars nearby, she was likely the most technologically advanced thing around.

CAVIRD sent a message of what looked to be an abandoned basement accessible down a flight of steps at the end of a closed off alleyway. It was locked, but Kathira had always been good at breaking doors. Squatting wasn't exactly dignified, but it took time to get a proper place in whatever society you ended up in and comfort hadn't been an issue since the cybernetics. It'd do. Besides, her right leg servo was out of whack from before the jump and rather needed to be fixed, not to mention the mana use needed for such a jump had kinda drained about half her power cells. Kathira lay down flat on her front and entered sleep mode to CAVIRD''s whirrs of entering repair mode.


Curfew had proven to be ignored by the cyborg angel, which wasn't a surprise since her rests could take place at any time, ultimately. So long as it wasn't more than 24 hours between rests, anyway. Kathira was taking the time now to jog through alleys to further familiarise herself with the city. It obviously needed work, but that needed extensive knowledge of how the city worked. One step at a time was the way to do things, or else everything would just blow up her face. Hopefully not literally.

It was time to get to a better vantage point. She hopped up in place, jets kicking in with a soft 'beep' to actually provide some height, then set her jets into a more powerful but short-lived burst to get twice as high before grabbing onto a railing attached to a window. She clambered up until her feet were on the rail, then repeated the procedure until she reached the top of the six-storey block of flats, where she hauled herself onto the roof. A warning flashed up in her HUD, noting left arm servo stress, which Kathira cheerfully ignored because it wasn't actually anything to worry about yet. There, from the top of the building, she could see a bit further than on ground level. Here, she might notice something she'd missed much earlier.
This often catches me out, too, but Xander the Crocoal is female.
Avi by DevArt user DragonA7X, taken from here. Free to use.
'...No matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful.'--SCP-1342
'One voice is small, but the difference between zero and one is as great as one and infinity.'--SCP-1281
[Image: 76561198157421562.png]
OOC: This is a rule for me or anybody else if they want to use it. Thoughts in italics, speak in quotation marks, and regular narrative normal. Also, I'll mainly be writing in a first person perspective and will put in bold when that changes. Lastly, I'll be mainly writing on a Kindle so sorry for any typos. I'll probably go through my post after posting and edit any mistakes

I was waiting on a roof, staring at the large building ahead of me. One of the high ranking officials of the government, Bill D. Jones, was scheduled to finish his conference at 1:22 AM and enter his limousine at 1:23. It was currently 1:20. The government conducts all important business at night to maximize safety and decrease the amount of people in the area. I looked down at my weapon, a Blaser R93 Tactical. It was a sniper rifle that I used strictly for long range assassinations, I hate the thing anyways. I heard a beeping on my shoulder.

"Thanks Beat, almost didn't notice." The small robot squeaked in reply and I patted him on the head. I looked down and saw Bill leave the conference hall.

Right on time.

I pulled the sniper scope back in front of my eye and aimed the sight. I turned on the infrared, considering I can't see in pitch black. I proceeded to pull the trigger, and Bill fell down, motionless, dead. The area became in a state of panic. I turned around and began running, sending mites to my legs as fast as possible. I took out my two knives, fighting type, in case of somebody who noticed and is attempting to pursue me. I jumped off the building, my personal training and the mites in my legs nullifying the damage. I ran for a few minutes and saw no one pursuing me. I was lucky it was common to see people with weapons ok in this area so the sniper of my back and the knife holsters weren't at all suspicious. I ran in front of my small shack, went inside, booted the computer, and prepared for outrage all over the media.

A rather productive day. Night I guess.

OOC: Considering who we are and how you accepted our applications, I assumed that although the settings is 1930s we had technology ahead of our real life standing in time.
Moderator Hawkman32
Smash Player, Lazy Mod, Horrible Person
Steam FC - 2466 2802 2212 PSN - KingHawk3210

[Image: e5b0d748a4d2d748e9a64d8c3e20799ea0ddadfe...1u1838.png]
OOC: That's the setting we're in, but I was sure we were currently past curfew. As in, everyone's inside and it's effectively night. ?
This often catches me out, too, but Xander the Crocoal is female.
Avi by DevArt user DragonA7X, taken from here. Free to use.
'...No matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful.'--SCP-1342
'One voice is small, but the difference between zero and one is as great as one and infinity.'--SCP-1281
[Image: 76561198157421562.png]
OOC: I bet the government people take this chance to do their business when no one else is around. So, Bill and his bodyguards are up and awake when everyone else is sleeping.
OOC: Time's still off, though, but that's a quick fix.
This often catches me out, too, but Xander the Crocoal is female.
Avi by DevArt user DragonA7X, taken from here. Free to use.
'...No matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful.'--SCP-1342
'One voice is small, but the difference between zero and one is as great as one and infinity.'--SCP-1281
[Image: 76561198157421562.png]
OOC: Time to edit! Bwoop bweep bwoop
Moderator Hawkman32
Smash Player, Lazy Mod, Horrible Person
Steam FC - 2466 2802 2212 PSN - KingHawk3210

[Image: e5b0d748a4d2d748e9a64d8c3e20799ea0ddadfe...1u1838.png]
OOC: Edited to make it seem like night.
Moderator Hawkman32
Smash Player, Lazy Mod, Horrible Person
Steam FC - 2466 2802 2212 PSN - KingHawk3210

[Image: e5b0d748a4d2d748e9a64d8c3e20799ea0ddadfe...1u1838.png]
Booker let the sunlight filter through the canopy and mark his bare shoulders in speckles. It was warm today, though the branches overhead blocked out most of the sun, leaving him cool except for where the light touched him. He absorbed what sunlight he could and let it condense into a small bud in his bosom, which promptly blossomed. Without thinking, he stoked it, and instantly the world around him changed.

A set of colours unseeable by the average eye worked their way into Booker's vision. He could feel each blade of grass on his legs through his pants, and each individual hair on Carnage's back upon which he leant. Even the flapping of a bird's wings half a mile above were audible to his sensitive ears, though he was not overwhelmed. Booker concluded long ago that stoking Lustre adjusted his brain in addition to his senses, so he could take it all in without being overloaded by the new sensory information.

He sat awhile in silent reflection, Carnage's chest heaving slowly as he breathed quietly (but still audibly, to Booker's enhanced hearing). It was easy to understand how amazing the world was through such a rose-tinted lens. Indeed, existence was a wonderful place through the eye of a daymuse.

It was even better through the eye of a waker.

At length Carnage woke, lifting his head and yawning. His tongue rolled back into his throat and his ears laid down on his head as they did when he yawned, and he stood up slowly, stretching his muscular limbs.

My bones ache.

Booker sighed. "Don't they always?" Booker rarely felt such small annoyances anymore; by stoking his precious Shade, he was capable of dulling pain. However, conferring onto someone else didn't weaken their pain, but weakened their body, which would be counter-productive in this case. So Carnage suffered.

I am in need of a good hunt, Carnage said after a period of silence, licking his chops. He stood at his full height now, a little larger than a fully-grown bear. Booker had encountered an ûru-baer in the past once— a sight to behold, indeed! He wasn't certain anything could fell such a large and terrible beast.

"Well, you may go now if it's your wish," Booker replied. "I was thinking of visiting the men's world again today, anyway."

Carnage sat back on his haunches carefully, so as not to enflame his already-sore limbs. Indeed? he asked with curiosity, licking his deep red fur clean. Truthfully, it has been quite some time. Perhaps another visit is overdue. Still, do you think I cannot come along?

"Certainly not," Booker said quickly. He didn't mean to snap or come off as rude, but withheld an apology. "Especially not now, what with your soreness. I think it would be far better to make this a solitary mission."

Carnage whined audibly. Despite being such a large beast, his cry was certainly shrill. But master... We cannot hear one another when you worldwalk. You know that.

Booker paused, unsure what to say next. Sometimes, the ingrained loyalty of ûru-spawn was sometimes a great fault. Indeed, Carnage could hardly stand to part with Booker for even a day. But how a large, red wolf covered in bone plates and horns would stick out in a human city! The ûru-gene did strange things to those it held. Booker had researched it for the better part of his life, and considered an ûru-wahlf his closest friend, and was more clueless about it than anyone.

"Yes, I know," he said carefully. "But it is necessary that I take this trip at least periodically. Perhaps someday I can bring you, but that can't happen until I'm familiar with the area, which can't happen until I go a few more times. Patience is a virtue, Carnage."

Wise words, from a tenderpaw, Carnage said snidely. Very well. You may go. But hurry back.

"I will, I guess," Booker replied, sliding on his ragged shirt. He would probably look plain at best to the other humans, if the reactions he accrued during his last visit were to judge by, but perhaps that was for the better. He wouldn't want anyone to think he was better off, anyway.

He walked from Carnage without an official goodbye, feeling slightly guilty. It didn't help that his attunement to Lustre gave him a deeper understanding of emotion, human or not— even as he walked toward the Worldstone, he could feel Carnage's sad eyes burning into the back of his skull. He could imagine how the poor beast probably looked, huge head slumped down, puppy eyes large and twinkiling for Booker to come back.

Booker pushed the thought from his mind and continued walking. The dense forest became increasingly sparse until it broke into a perfectly circular clearing, at the exact centre of which stood an erect divnitystone the height of three men and half as wide. It was a strange, marbled stone, a mixture between pearl, obsidian, and moonstone. The rune for Haze, a pentagram, the rune for Lustre, a triangle within a circle, and the rune for Shade, a circle within a circle were etched into the top.

In addition, it was a portal. Booker paced towards it. With each step, he could feel more of its immense power radiating outward. What a powerful person he would be if he could reserve so much power in any one of his divinities...

But divinitystone was undrainable, unfortunately. He could only add his power to it. Clearly this was an oft-used Worldstone, as its power far exceeded any other Booker had encountered. Lots of people had used it, and consequently pushed their own power into it. The first time he'd seen the monolith, he'd been so overwhelmed he'd convinced Carnage to set up camp a mile or so away. They hadn't left since.

Booker laid a hand on its smooth, flawless surface and concentrated. Even as he might confer effervescence into another person, he conferred it into the Worldstone. Their powers lashed together and became one briefly; their understandings merged, and not a moment later, Booker was exactly where he wanted to be.

The city. Now the boy who had dedicated his life to studying nature's secrets was ready to begin cracking one of its most complex— human life.

He'd been here on a few occasions in the past, of course. The buildings had boggled him at first; he'd thought them stone trees, and he'd assumed that the road beneath his feet was a foreign sand. Over his handful of visits, he'd picked up some information about the human way of life, but it was still foggy. What kind of person might he have become, had his parents kept him as a youth?

No one seemed to notice his sudden appearance, probably because there was no one around to see it. All the better.

The night was black, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. If it weren't for his enhanced vision, he wouldn't have been able to see his hand in front of his face. Booker quickly absorbed the darkness. Shade was hard to come by, as it always had been, so he took that which he could.

Rain fell from the sky in sheets, so thickly Booker could almost swim. A sleek, metallic entity rolled toward Booker as he stood on the street, directly in its path, cloaked in the bright lights its eyes emitted. He had seen these before, but was still unsure as to what purpose they served. Honestly, they were slightly unsettled.

Unlike the others, this one rolled to a stop in front of Booker, and then shuddered slightly as part of its side began to sink down. It revealed a man inside. He had a thick, black moustache, albeit well-trimmed, and shaggy black hair under a blue cap. His eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses, the likes of which Booker had seen before, and it was somewhat obvious that his right eye was no more.

"I haven't seen you here before," he said, frowning. His teeth were large.

"I..." Booker found himself at a loss for words. How did one speak?

"Maybe you'd better come with me." Booker stood frozen in fear. Come... with him? How would he ever get back? The nearest divinitystone was where he'd buried it nearby, and it was just large enough for another trip. The size of his hand, perhaps. If someone happened upon it, or Booker was taken far away and couldn't find his way back... Well, it was sufficient to say that divinitystone was not a common resource, at all.

A loud cracking sound. Booker's enhanced hearing amplified the sound a hundred times, and his ears felt ready to bleed. The man inside the metallic entity's head jerked upward, suddenly alert. "Or not," he said quickly. "Stay out of trouble." With that, he skidded off, his mount spraying water behind it.

What the hell just happened?

Curious, Booker conferred his Lustre and reached out with some psychic tendrils. People nearby, perhaps? Waking people? If eramancy existed in this world, surely there were some shadowslogs out and about. And yet, as a worldwalker, one could never be too sure whether eramancy existed in a plane or not. Time would tell.

Booker felt one. To his surprise, it was perched on top of a building. The emotions he felt were strange and foreign; he had never seen the likes of it before. It was no animal, no human... something else. Booker clutched the pearl in his pocket, a Lustre rune etched into its side— a triangle within a circle. He lashed to it, combining his power with its, and suddenly the pouring rain felt like an extension of his own body. He forced it to merge together and lift him up like an aqueous platform, onto the building.

There stood... well, something incredible. A tall girl, with a green eye and a muscular build. This was hardly her most distinguishable feature, however— close to half of her body was made of metal, it appeared. Booker was so startled he nearly let his hold of the water go and plumetted to his death. Power almost drained from the pearl, he dropped himself on the roof of the tall building and stared at the girl in fear.

"What... What are you?"
? // ?[url=http://weeb.space][/url]
OOC: Note that "flit" and "Step" are Shado's words for her Shadow Step ability, that is, that's what she calls it in her head. She generally uses "flit" in more casual circumstances, and "Step" in serious/combat situations. "Walk" is her word for her Shadow Walk ability. Also, denizens of the Shadow Plane call themselves "Shadows" and those of Physical Planes "Physicals." Since Shado grew up in the Shadow Plane, she uses this terminology.

Also, damn this is long. Sorry, I did not mean to do that (again).

The man lay on the ground, curled in the fetal position, one hand raised in vain defense. He was shaking, and crying, and spilling out pleads for mercy so desperately that they bled together and so were unintelligible.

Shado stood over this man, raw power such as she had only experienced a few times in life coursing through her. Innumerable tendrils, thicker than her arms and so dark as to appear solid in truth, radiated off her, and no fewer than four of these tendrils were aimed at the helpless man, each ending in a truly solid and wickedly sharp point. To this man Shado spoke.


"I don't know," the man sobbed, "I told you, I haven't seen him in years! He moved, I don't know where!"

Two of the tendrils shot towards the man, and he screamed as they lifted him clear off the ground and slammed him against a wall.

"Please, I don't know anything! I'm not involved anything like he was! I have a family," the man broke down into incomprehensible weeping.

Shado regarded him impassively. He was either a very good actor, or he truly did not know anything. Shado thought the latter was more likely.

With her shadow tendrils, Shado lowered the man so that she could look him in the eye, and so that he could gaze fully upon her mechanical-looking mask. His feet just barely scraped the ground, and he scrambled in vain to gain his footing. Luckily he was fairly short as well.

"If you don't know the location of the man I seek, then who does?" she asked him quietly.

"I have some old contacts! I could ask around if anyone's seen him!" the man replied desperately.

Shado was silent for a moment. Then she asked, "Your family, do you have a picture of them? In your wallet, perhaps?"

The man's eyes seemed to double in size, but he nodded shakily. Trembling, his hand reached into his jeans pocket, and brought out a leather wallet. He opened it, and pulled out a small photograph, holding it up for Shado to see. Shado took the picture without looking at it, and held it up for him. "You have 24 hours."

She released him, and turned away as he collapsed on the ground. As she walked away, he called out to her.

"Where should I meet you?"

Shado halted, and half turned. "Oh, I'll find you," she said. And then she was gone.


Shado Stepped into the small enclosed area behind the building in which she had just interrogated an innocent man. There waited Dylan. Dylan did not speak, or really do anything in the way of communication, but Shado could feel the waves of disapproval emanating off of him. She avoided looking at him.

"I wasn't going to hurt him," she said. "I wasn't. I just need the information. So you can stop being all judgmental."

Dylan's mood didn't change. The Shade simply hovered beside her, silent but not passive.

"Whatever, it's done now," Shado said, Stepping past the chain link fence and walking through a series of narrow alleyways and back streets. As soon as she was certain she was alone, she let her Shadow Suit dissipate, leaving her plain, civilian clothing. Dylan melted into the ground and merged with her own shadow, and suddenly Shado was simply another Physical walking to her car. Through a sketchy back alley. To a car illicitly gained. Shado was not proud of what she had had to do to assimilate into this Physical Plane.

Starting the car, Shado left that ugly place behind, quickly turning onto busier roads. She still had one more person to find.

But first, lunch. Tacos. No, wait. Something fried. Shado loved fast food.


"I'm sorry, Miss, but it doesn't seem as though I will be able to help you."

"Oh, but pleeeeaase? It's very important that I find Elise Taylor."

"I don't know that I can pull the old files that you're asking for. What did you say you're relation to this woman was?"

"She's... she's my mother."

"Oh. Well... let me talk to my supervisor."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

And with that, Shado nearly leapt over the counter to hug a very surprised clerk.

*****24 Hours Later*****

Shado held two scraps of paper in her hands, looking between them with steadily increasing anxiety. Two addresses. One of her.

Which one?

Either could be what she so desperately sought, or neither could be. More likely neither, but she knew she had to try, that she would try, both.

But which first?

Shado began to rock on the balls of her feet, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she whispered.

She needed vengeance before she could heal.

It was far. Too far to drive, and she had no money, and more importantly, no travel documents to allow her to fly. She had only one method of getting to her destination, but she had never attempted a distance that far. She didn't know that she could do it.

But, of course, she would try.

She spent days preparing, pouring over maps, calculating distances and times, looking up pictures of destination spots on the internet. At the end of her preparation, she had everything planned out, every detail prepared, every possibility accounted for. She was as ready as she could ever be.

Shado found an abandoned building - there seemed to be quite a lot of them - and in it a room with no windows and no lights. In this area of pure darkness, Shado Walked into the Shadow Plane, for the first time since she had left. She stayed at the edge between the two dimensions, where the rules of reality blurred and were forgotten. In this pseudo-space she moved, traveling along the edge of realities among formless, quasi-real shapes of neither Shadow nor Physics. To her it seemed that on one side, the Physical Plane sped by so fast as to obscure all details, and yet she knew, somehow, what is was that she was passing. On the other lay the endless, motionless expanse of the Shadow Plane, at this outer edge nothing more than a bottomless nothing in which vague, shadowy things dwelt, half-obscured. At first, this travel was effortless, almost natural to Shado, but she soon found that it did not stay so. The longer she stayed in this pseudo-existence, the more laborious going on became. When she was not even half way to her destination, the journey began to be a serious strain for Shado, and she realized she could not get to her destination in one jump. Still, she pushed on, both for impatience to get to her destination, and for curiosity to see how far she could push herself. The toil of the journey increased until Shado felt like she was moving against the current of a raging river, one which sought to drag her under to her death. Finally, it became too much, and Shado feared she would make some fatal misstep, and so prepared to reenter the Physical Plane. But then, even as she readied herself to depart this pseudo-existence, her fear became reality. Shado faltered, recovered herself, then failed completely. She fell, so much as one can fall in this reality, and the world spun around her, different planes of reality blending together until she had no idea what she was seeing. Terrified, and desperate to regain control of herself, Shado braced herself against her spinning and pushed off in a random direction, hoping against hope that she might happen to pick the right direction, to find herself...

Shado hit something hard, flat, and large. It took her a good while to reorient herself and realize that she was lying on the ground. In fact it was black pavement. Her entire body, that which wasn't against the pavement, was being lightly pounded, but Shado hadn't the presence of mind to figure out by what. She tried to rise, but her head spun, and her limbs gave way. She barely even felt herself being lifted gently from the pavement. Dylan. Her final thought before she slipped into blackness.


Shado woke to find herself in an empty room, lit by a single, bare bulb. Groaning, she lifted herself to her feet, her head swimming slightly and her muscles protesting. Beside her floated Dylan, concern radiating off of him in waves.

"Thank you," she said to him, "You saved me once again, my friend."

He gave no reaction, but Shado knew he understood. Limping slightly, and summoning a walking stick of shadow essence, Shado made her way to the only door in the room. She opened it, and found herself looking through sheets of pouring rain at a dimly lit, night time street, with tall, dark buildings on the other side stretching as far as she could see in both directions. Sighing, Shado leaned on her stick. "Well, what do you think, Dylan?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "Where the hell are we?"

OOC: I like what Dazel just did above me, and I was actually planning on doing something similar. Plus, Shado needs a reason to stay in this universe beyond her recuperation period. So, who wants to meet Shado?

P.S. If no one volunteers I will probably just pick someone at random, hehehe...

I just realized that Te-em had the same idea as me, so Shado will be bumping into Ozihcs, if no one beats me to it. I'm super behind on HW now, so I may not be able to post until Friday.
कालो ऽस्मि लोकक्षयकृत् प्रवृद्धो लोकान्समाहर्तुमिह प्रवृत्त
“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
-Bhagavad Gita (XI, 32), as quoted by J. Robert Oppenheimer

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, Caspar David Friedrich. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/co...of_fog.jpg

'What are you?' That had to be the most common question asked of Kathira, if you didn't count the 'Hey! What are you doing here?!' that preceded her being shot at. She turned completely to look at who addressed her, seeing a slim, long-haired man roughly a foot shorter than her. She smiled good-naturedly at him.
'Oh, hello! I didn't notice you get up here, I guess it's actually easier than I thought.' She slipped a hand into a jacket pocket and brought out her halo, placing it above her head at flicking it with a finger to ramp up the glow a bit, making it easier for her to see the newcomer's face. And probably for him to see hers, since the slight glow of her robo-eye wasn't usually good enough for seeing by. 'I, young man, am an angel. Of sorts. Specifically, I'm Seraph Kathira Narae. Call me Kath.' She broadened her smile a bit. 'I'm guessing that you are a human. What's your name?'
This often catches me out, too, but Xander the Crocoal is female.
Avi by DevArt user DragonA7X, taken from here. Free to use.
'...No matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful.'--SCP-1342
'One voice is small, but the difference between zero and one is as great as one and infinity.'--SCP-1281
[Image: 76561198157421562.png]
"A-angel?" Booker repeated the word a few times silently, made uncomfortable by the rough way it rolled of his tongue. He'd never heard the word, of course, though he could assume what it meant. He made a mental note to himself: that angels were the union of man and metal. Perhaps there were similar beings back at home, waiting to be discovered? Well, that was an investigation for another day.

The girl's smile was beginning to fade. How long had Booker been standing there, staring at her in stupor, repeating that word soundlessly? "Oh, Booker," he said quickly. "Booker... Thorpe." No matter how he tried to shake it, he was still slightly offset by the woman's appearance. It seemed unnatural and wrong. He didn't relish the vibe that she seemed to exude, though perhaps that was due in part to his unfamiliarity with the subject. With luck, this too would pass in time.

"I, uh..." He was at a loss for words. Suddenly, he felt very silly, climbing up to the top of that building without a plan. What had he intended to do? Kill her? Interrogate her?

"I'm not from around here, if you couldn't tell. If I'm not supposed to be up here, I can, uh..."
? // ?[url=http://weeb.space][/url]
The smile had faded into an expression of bemusement. Most places that had something approximating the concept of angels as she understood them--divinely powerful and good protectors and guides of weaker peoples--and the term 'angel' was just as widespread in describing them. If it didn't, that was thanks to a language barrier that could easily have some translator get around. She had heard of universes where not even the concept existed, and others where the word didn't apply. Judging by Booker's reaction, he was from one of those universes. Probably.
'Heh. You don't actually know what an angel is, do you. Beyond me, I mean.' She chuckled and shook her head. 'If you really don't know, I can explain. But not on this building, not now. It's past curfew. In this city, no-one except law enforcement is supposed to be outside at this time. I just tend to break certain rules if it'll help me get my bearings in a new place.' She chuckled again. 'I'm not from around here either. Just landed three days ago. If you want, I can take you to where I've been sleeping the past coupla nights. And yes, that does include getting you off this building safely.' She smirked in good humour.
This often catches me out, too, but Xander the Crocoal is female.
Avi by DevArt user DragonA7X, taken from here. Free to use.
'...No matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful.'--SCP-1342
'One voice is small, but the difference between zero and one is as great as one and infinity.'--SCP-1281
[Image: 76561198157421562.png]
When Ozihcs lifted his umbrella, he came to see a masked warrior in front of him. At least he thought it was a warrior, with that scary mask on. The suit he did not recognise, however, yet it reminded him of a nightmare he once had. He looked for any signs of black thorns, but all he could see where tendrils of shadow that looked soft for the moment. He could not see any spikes on the suit either, so this warrior-looking person could not be the monster from his dream. Ozihcs folded his umbrella and let out a sigh, which he hoped would not get stuck in his throat due to more surprises.

"I see you are not one of those evil Integrals come to get me," he said, though he meant it as a question, for one could never be sure. "Nor are you the evil Thoraz seeking to bring me back to my own world."

He could not expect that the masked warrior would understand what he said. It was seldom anyone did so. Without thinking, he had just confessed he came from another world. That was a stupid thing to do, he reminded himself. That should be rule number one when he entered another world; do not tell any one where you come from or that you come from any place else at all. Else, Thoraz will send his forces and arrest him.

It's not my fault, he would tell them. I fell into a black hole. It was an accident.

That was true; he and Ozi had been caught by a storm wind and thrown into a black spiral on the sky. That spiral was always making trouble. But of course, Ozihcs would get the blame . . . as usual.
"I, uh..." He was still taken aback by the woman's appearance. He tried to convince himself to ignore it, to pretend like she was just another person. But even if she were entirely average, it would be strange— he wasn't used to communicating with other people at all, let alone "angels."

Kathira didn't show it, but Booker was sure her patience was wearing thin. His would be, if he asked someone a question and they took several minutes to answer each time. Repeating words to themselves frequently, generally making a painfully awkward show out of his every sentence— he wasn't making himself seem very attractive.

Attractive? He meant likeable. Why would he care if he was attractive?

"Yeah, could you help me down? Uh, I think I..." He shoved his hands in his pockets and felt around. No pearls. "Yeah, I used all my water runes. How many have you got? It'll take a few to pull both of us all the way down, or maybe one of good size and lustre."
? // ?[url=http://weeb.space][/url]
OOC: Uhhh... Dazel, that masked warrior would be me. Er, Shado. "Tendrils of shadow"...?
कालो ऽस्मि लोकक्षयकृत् प्रवृद्धो लोकान्समाहर्तुमिह प्रवृत्त
“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
-Bhagavad Gita (XI, 32), as quoted by J. Robert Oppenheimer

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, Caspar David Friedrich. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/co...of_fog.jpg

OOC: Whoops. The villain in the first post was masked as well! My bad.
? // ?[url=http://weeb.space][/url]
OOC: Heh heh, no problem Dazel. No harm done.

Shado spent the rest of the night resting and recuperating in the room that Dylan had brought her to. She dozed on and off while Dylan stood the silent, tireless guard over her weakened body. When the first pale rays of light began to shine through the windows, Shado roused herself enough to look out onto the street in front of the building, and was met with a puzzling sight. Only a few people were up and about, but those who were were dressed in distinctly outdated styles. Outdated by almost a century. And then a pre-WWII automobile rattled past, and Shado gaped. When she realized what it had to mean, she spent the next hour banging her head - literally, physically banging her head, for a full hour - against a wall.

She was in a whole new Physical Plane.

"Stupid-" Bang. "Frickin'-" Bang. "Dumbass-" Bang. "Moron-"

For a whole hour.

And then, of course, she was woozy all over again, so she was forced - by Dylan, who was apparently just fine with her physically assaulting her own noggin, as long as she rested it afterwards - to spend the whole day resting. Just as well, Shado supposed, as she doubted she could blend in with the people of this world. And, of course, she had to gather her strength before she even thought about attempting to return to her Physical Plane. Which she wasn't sure she could do even at full strength. Plane jumping was far more difficult than traveling a few hundred miles within a single plane, and she hadn't even been able to do that. Shado supposed she could travel directly to the Shadow Plane, and from there reorient herself and jump to her Physical Plane, but that strategy was accompanied by a whole 'nother set of problems. Such as the fact that Shado had no idea where in the Shadow Plane she would end up. Being a reflection of an infinite number of Physical Planes, the Shadow Plane was partitioned into an infinite number of sections, or Provinces, most of which at least partially overlapped with any number of other Provinces. Each Province was the reflection of a single Physical Plane, and from any given Physical Plane it was generally only possible to travel to the corresponding Province in the Shadow Plane, and vice versa. Since Shado had no idea where this plane's Province lay in the Shadow Plane, she had no idea if she would be able to get to her own Province once in the Shadow Plane, so as to be able to travel back to her Physical Plane. She had no power in the Shadow Plane, after all. Shado hypothesized that for her it was possible to travel to any part of the Shadow Plane from any Physical Plane, but so far that was only a theory, one that she hadn't the slightest idea how to test.

So, in summation, she was stuck in this plane of existence, at least for the moment. Fortunately, most Physical Planes were not linked temporally, meaning that Shado could spend years in this plane and still return to her Physical Plane at the very moment that she left it. Probably. She could also return to her Physical Plane to find herself in the heart of the Jurassic Period, or in the far future. Plane jumping tended to screw around with various laws of reality.

Shado may have resumed - briefly! - her head banging, and maybe even a bit of smacking, once or twice throughout the day. Three times, max.

Finally, after a long and painful and stupendously boring day, night fell once again, and the streets cleared quite abruptly. Feeling much refreshed, although she now had a not insignificant headache, Shado cautiously opened the door. It was still raining, and in fact Shado had not noticed a single moment throughout the day in which the rain even hinted at letting up. It seemed that perpetual rain was a trope of this reality. Wonderful. Shado slunk out of the building, clad fully in her Shadow Suit - which Shado deemed a necessary precaution, as she had no idea what she might encounter in this city. For all she knew, this was a reality infested with the undead, who only came out at night to prey on those unlucky living souls foolish enough to be out after dark. The suit was also waterproof.

Shado encountered neither the walking dead nor any living souls, however, as she crept around corners and skulked through shadows. The city seemed to be an endless maze of empty streets and lifeless buildings. Finally, Shado realized that sketchily wandering the streets was getting her nowhere, and so she decided to get an aerial view. She had no idea what it was she was looking for, but she figured that if she was to be spending in this plane, she might as well figure out what she could about it. Spying a fire escape nearby, Shado headed over to it. Now, she could have just climbed up it like a normal person, but that seemed like no fun to Shado. So instead, Shado sprinted the last few paces to the wall under the fire escape, then leapt up and off a dumpster that stood there against the side of the building, flitting up the wall to grab the bottom edge of the fire escape, about 15 feet off the ground. Using her momentum, Shado smoothly swung herself up over the railing, ending crouched on the slippery rail, shadow tendrils wrapped around the top bar in order to stabilize herself. From there, Shado jumped straight up, grabbing the bottom of the next level of the fire escape, swinging her body first out then back in towards the stairs, letting go at the end of her arc and flitting in mid-air to the top of the railing of the next level. Even as her shadow tendrils wrapped around that bar, she pushed off of it, away from the fire escape, once again flitting in mid-air to a window about five feet from her. There she clung to face of the wall, her shadow tendrils digging into the brick of the building for the split-second she stayed in that position. Looking up, Shado Doc-Oct-ed her way up to the next window with her shadow tendrils, there jumping and flitting back onto the fire escape, running up the next flight of stairs to jump and grab onto the edge of the next level. With that momentum, she swung her body out over the street, letting go at the last moment and allowing herself to fly out from the fire escape, not aiming herself towards the side of the building at all, waiting until the apex of her arch to flit upwards and grab the edge of the roof, shadow essence extending out of her fingers like claws and digging into the stone, securing her grip. With one arm and her momentum, Shado swung herself straight up and over the edge of the building, flitting once again at the height of her arch onto the roof, rolling as she hit the surface and ending in a crouched position, one hand on the ground, facing the edge she had just come over as she slid the last few feet.


Shado stood, raising her arms and letting out a triumphant, "Woohoo!", all pretense of subtlety momentarily forgotten. Immediately she cringed at her foolishness. If there was anyone or anything around that might have less than friendly inclinations towards her, she had just given them a gigantic, flashing sign pointing at her location. It probably read, 'IDIOT HERE! IDIOT HERE!' Shado decided that it was prudent to be away from her current location, currently. She surveyed the nearby rooftops, and found them all unlit. And because of the heavy downpour, neither the moon nor the stars were visible, which meant the only light sources that Shado could see were the dim streetlamps far below, and few softly glowing windows. So the rooftops were more than suitably dark for her to Walk between. Incidentally, she probably could have just Walked onto this roof to begin with. But that was simply no fun. Now, however, was not about fun. Picking a random direction, Shado Walked onto a nearby roof, disappearing into darkness and appearing in her chosen location. She repeated this several more times, until she was satisfied no one could find her from investigating her previous location. Only here, did Shado take a moment to survey her surroundings.

Buildings spread in every direction, organized into neat blocks that extended as far as Shado could see. The streets that Shado could see were absolutely motionless, still as Death except for the small boy with the umbrella who...


Shado's head whipped around as the first person she had seen this night walked nonchalantly from another street, a boy in dark clothing with a black umbrella, who carried what looked like an electric torch with him, lighting up a small radius of space around him. Shado crouched at the edge of the roof she was on, observing the boy as he made his way down the street. Deciding that she had nothing better to do, Shado Walked to a dark patch on the ground across the street from her. She Walked from shadow to shadow, following the boy for some time, always behind him and always out of sight. He continued on, seemingly oblivious, but Shado took no chances. She could have followed him until he reached his destination, but that was unlikely to be of interest to Shado, and besides, she decided that she required more direct answers. So she Walked to a shadowed area ahead of the boy, then Stepped out into the middle of the street, directly into the boy's path. But it seemed he really had been oblivious, as he continued to walk straight at Shado, and collided with her before she could speak out.

Shado recoiled back slightly, but the boy merely lifted his umbrella, and looked up at Shado with an unsurprised expression. He folded his umbrella, apparently not giving two shits about the rain beating down on his head, and let out a small sigh.

"I see you are not one of those evil Integrals come to get me," he said. "Nor are you the evil Thoraz seeking to bring me back to my own world."

The cheerful "Hi!" that Shado had prepared died in her throat. Under the mask, she opened and shut her mouth several times before she could manage to say anything. Apparently, this boy was also not from this plane either. It would also seem he was utterly insane.

"No, I'm not, but you should watch out for those dastardly Derivatives," she said, her voice surprisingly even for the confusion she felt. "They're a real bitch." Should she swear in front of a pre-teen? Shado decided she did not care.

And with that, Shado waited to here this kid's response.

It was generally best not to encourage psychosis, but it would seem that Shado was not being very wise tonight.

OOC: So... I promise that all my posts won't be this ridiculously long. Some of them will be reasonably lengthed. I'm sure they will be.
कालो ऽस्मि लोकक्षयकृत् प्रवृद्धो लोकान्समाहर्तुमिह प्रवृत्त
“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
-Bhagavad Gita (XI, 32), as quoted by J. Robert Oppenheimer

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, Caspar David Friedrich. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/co...of_fog.jpg

Ozihcs did not want to encounter any Derivatives. Any kinds of mathematical daemons frightened him. The Integrals would come riding on sine waves across the field and whisk up one terror after another. Ozihcs did not wish to know the frequency of those waves, nor their angle, nor that they moved up and down and around in a more steep fashion the higher the frequency went. He was not interested, yet it happened to be on his mind for a short second.

The rain was still pouring down, water dripping from the visor of his black cap. He realised he had to make a move, rather than being in his own thoughts. He was after all in a conversation.

"Aah . . . thanks for the advice," he said, in lack of better words. "And . . . please don't tell Thoraz you saw me here." Having never seen this masked warrior before, Ozihcs was not sure if it was a person to trust or not. Safest for him would be, if he was on his way. He had to find that black spiral, so that he could return home. He put up his umbrella again and said, "Nice weather, isn't it?" to sound polite to the stranger, and then he started walking again, following the same street as he had before.

It was then he realised how dreary this town was. The weather was after all not that nice, and all the people were hiding in their homes or possibly sneaking round in the alleys. Such a suspect place! What if the secret police was already looking after him? He must be wanted by now, so far away from home.

Forum Jump: