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trollthumper

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  1. Nick had heard a good deal about Sea Devil. She was... trying to do good? A part of him wanted to look at the situation through the lens of his own situation. He dealt in powers few understood, powers that would easily be dubbed malefic or terrible from an outside perspective. He consorted with deities associated with records of atrocity and a rapacious desire for destruction - mostly unfairly. And yet. He'd seen what lurked in those shadowed reaches. He'd seen what had happened to divine figures who poked the outer darkness with sticks, only to have it crawl up their arms like some infection of the veins. Sea Devil may have been doing right by her gods... but as Nick well knew, beseeching some gods was very much a matter of tit-for-tat. And there was a good chance that it would be more than Sea Devil paying for the "favor" bestowed upon them. "Sea Devil's beckoning is an example that speaks for itself," he said. He didn't want to cut the conversation off, in case Ms. Thursday wanted to know more, but there were pertinent details to get here. "Speaking of 'grow,' just what exactly might we be expecting on the grounds? Has the ambient magic affected plant life, fauna, etc? I mean, I saw Annihilation; I know what happens when stuff like Shub-Niggurath gets into the water table."
  2. Temperance did a careful scan of the bookstore. Going by Lynn's words, there was a possibility the wards had been smashed, and maybe some spirits had shown up to take a look around when the smashing happened. "Apparently, Hawthorne is something of a regular presence on the convention circuit," she said. "I never saw practitioners as having 'conventions.' 'Esbats,' maybe..." She shook her head. "Bedlam as well? I have business that takes me there... trying to take the measure of the city and its patron spirit." She realized too late that saying such a thing likely opened her up to any number of comments from people who knew more about Bedlam, but she might as well plunge forward. "So. It appears that our business calls us all towards the Midwest's greatest sinkhole. I feel like fate is playing dominoes..."
  3. Dunwich Prep. Nick hadn't been there for that hullabaloo, but he knew the stories about it from Kimber. And, of course, he'd seen the news story about one of its students turning into the Blob right in the middle of a parade. The headmistress - a former superhero herself - had turned out to be a blood descendant of Shub-Niggurath, one of the more boundless things that some people considered a "god." Nick didn't want to think on how one could be descended from it, but from what he understood, the cultists of Shub-Niggurath weren't ones to let things like logic and decency stop them from interacting with their patron's fleshy architecture. Only problem was, the headmistress had been sharing the wealth, spreading the milk of Shub-Niggurath among the student body to unlock their powers and fuel a multitude of transformations. By Kimber's account, there had been evil trees and strange rituals, all in an attempt to call the Black Goat with a Thousand Young down live and in person. Apparently, they'd managed to crack the walls a little bit before being taken down. "Outsiders aren't exactly my bailiwick," he said, "but it wouldn't be my first time dealing with these things." He turned to Ms. Thursday. "I might get yelled at for this, but... how would you like to punch something right between its thousand eyes?"
  4. It was certainly a very interesting Thanksgiving. The Parkhurst had often served as a waystation for Claremont students attuned to the mystic arts, but it wasn't exactly something that happened every year, or with every class. But when it did happen, the mansion rose to the occasion. The ghosts were always happy to get a chance to put food on the table, and full-on feasts were a special chance to cut loose. Nick Cimitiere had helped, of course - mainly with the pastries and the coffee, but help nonetheless. He had been talking with Ms. Thursday on matters of the divine - as well as the interdimensional nuances of gods, something that he knew was there but didn't necessarily like to poke with a stick - when Gatekeeper had shown up. "Gatekeeper," he said warmly. Kyle, he thought to himself. Queer magician superheroes didn't exactly come a dozen to a bundle, so there had been some collaboration - and some drinks - and the possibility of something more over the years. For now, though, their relationship was pretty much 100% professional, if more due to professional obligation than anything else. "We've still got some pie left, if you wanna join - but the way you say 'a situation,' I think you'll probably want it to go."
  5. "Right, yeah, the glowing chick," said the guard, with the tone of somebody trying very hard to pretend that they had not been quite close to voiding themselves within the past hour. He looked to his colleague, who looked like he was trying to have as little to do with this as possible despite standing right there in front of it. The first guard finally just yielded. "What the hell," he said. "They say the world's ending anyway." --- Dr. Blackmore paced her room, having lit a cigarette. She was taking drags off of it as if she were deep underwater and it was her scuba hose. "I don't know," she said. "Why here. Why me. Why this. I don't know why any of this. I just know I've been finding... fragments. For years upon years upon years. I tried to get out of Bedlam years ago, tried to take my practice elsewhere, but I found myself back here. At first, I thought it was the product of a dying mother and vengeful colleagues. But now I think Bedlam doesn't want to let me go. And I don't know if I'm here as witness, sacrifice, or..." She let the thought trail off with the cigarette smoke. As JETTE entered the room, Dr. Blackmore barely paid her any notice, except to nod. "A colleague, I take it," she said, addressing Lady Horus. "Good. It should feel more inevitable, when it happens, like there's no chance of escape. "Because I think you may need to kill me."
  6. I feel like I am obligated to bring either Nick or Temperance along for this thrill ride.
  7. Temperance felt like she should do something in response to Set's greeting. A glare wouldn't be professional, and there was no singular part of her that wanted to give a polite bow, as if answering to applause. Instead, she just gave a friendly, firm nod. "It is good to see you again, Set," she said - and she meant it. She and Set had a good relationship, and it had been some time since she'd seem him - though the fact that he sometimes came on as strong as this was a good reminder of why she hadn't exactly sought him out at times. She turned to Lynn. "I should have come in here a while ago." She extended a hand. "I'm attuned to the realms animistic, and can communicate with the entities that work off of the motions of the world. And, as Set has suggested, I can also freeze things quite well." She took a look around the shop. "I assume the bookshop is warded against spirits? I was hoping to possibly get witness accounts from the invisible denizens within, but if that's not possible, I can go outside to see what those on the street saw. First, though, I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit more about the text..."
  8. Eliza decided to go subtle in showing up to the shop. No costume, no mask, no refined English. She could pass as another girl with a taste for the strange and unusual. Keep it low key. Which is why, of course, Set and Sekhmet were there. Eliza did as subtle a turnaround as she could manage when she saw Set's familiar features through the broken window, not wanting to hang around for long enough for connections to be drawn. There's really only so long I can keep this going if I try to play keep away with my secret identity. Sekhmet's got the nose to smell something familiar, and Set has always been good at knowing me. And I always did hate that Three's Company bull****... So. Best to face this head on. She ducked into a side alley and crouched behind a dumpster, making sure the little corner was unoccupied. The water from her bottle hit her face hard, froze, and slowly shifted to elegance. She never felt the cold. Add the peacoat stuck in her bag, and it was close enough to costume to work. And so, Temperance walked into the bookstore, November chill behind her. "I heard there was something of a disturbance..."
  9. Ah, the juggling of flaming chainsaws. Eliza was familiar with Silberman's. When one was attuned to the secret currents of the world, realizing their various node points across the city was simple. She didn't visit it as often as she wanted to, but she knew about the power within the pages. So the fact that somebody had broken it to steal an ancient tome that dated back to ancient days probably meant that this was not some empty pursuit. And yet... Bedlam. Eliza had heard many stories of Bedlam as well. Cursed. Corrupted. Decayed. If there was any place where the city patron needed to be taken out and shot like a horse with a broken leg, Bedlam would likely be at the top of the lest. It was a cold way to think about it, but then again, spirit hierarchies were often cold things of patronage and conflicting desire - places where the rot could easily spread from the head down. And now she was going to the city to look at a half-formed tower that desperately fought to keep itself upright. I should focus my energies. Lest I end up being off my game when I run into Candyman, or whoever the city blames its problems on. But... local matters do have some obligation... And so, she left her bags open, telling herself she could pack once she was done checking in at Silberman's.
  10. Arcane Lore: 22 Current Events: 15 INT 1 (History): 17 INT 2 (Theology & Philosophy): 7 Gather Info via Well-Informed: 17 and 21
  11. The Anointer looked to Paradigm, his features still dim behind the halo. "Those who wish for freedom and safety will be allowed to march in my camp," the figure said. "To show the people of Kolast that there is another way, that Olaya's fury shatters chains and tempers souls left flickering by the harsh winds of cruelty. Those who wish to stay in Derendis may do so. I will not drag them in my path. But I shall leave my watch behind, to make sure that the chains I've broken are not reforged." Cavalier had caught up with Paradigm by this point, floating in the Anointer's orbit. "You sound like you have a plan. How're you planning on keeping order, exactly? You going to give the captains of the guards a chance to bend the knee, or you just cutting right to the --" His question was interrupted by the proximity sensors on his armor going off. He pulled out of the way just as a ballista bolt almost as big as he was soared past his head. "Frag!" He turned his attention back to the city. The ballistas atop the city walls were centering on their position, and beneath them, an army of men with armor and spears was streaming out of the gates. It's almost not fair. "So, if you had a plan for --" Cavalier felt the gust of heat behind him and saw four beams of light stream past him. They hit the city walls with pinpoint accuracy, causing the ballistas to go up in flames. There were no explosions; the ballistas just burst into flames, sending guards running but not catching them in the backblast. All right. Definitely unfair. But man, I've kinda been wanting to kick some bastards in the teeth...
  12. Cannonade didn't just want to punch the drone before him. He wanted to do so much more. He wished that his blow would break it in half. He wished that it would cause every organ to rupture, causing the enslaved mockery of a soldier to bleed for all its most precious orifices. He wished to make it cry to whatever darkness it held as master and commander, feeling some sort of regret as it asked for meaning for oblivion. He wished he could hurt it half as much as its armies had hurt him. The slow glanced off of its armor, however, catching off of whatever hell-forged plate it was wearing. However, Cannonade was able to travel with the deflection, taking advantage of the gap to wrap his arms around the Omegadrone and draw it close. "Well, whaddaya know..."
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