trollthumper

"Pact's already been erected," said Nick. "First thing I did before we called all this down. Everyone here, sitting here in this manse, has been let into this world by somebody seeking their benediction. However." Nick pointed to the various walls of the house. "That benediction only applies to this manor. Not the grounds, not the airspace above it, not the tectonic plates beneath it. This house. Go out the doors, slide out the windows, decide to pull a Kool-Aid Man and bulldoze through the walls... the Pact kicks in. Any action outside of these bonds that applies to this plane of reality, and not the greater structures of the divine work, gets you booted back up to the great beyond." He took a seat at the table, pretending as if he was in control. "So. We have called entities of the spirit world, the greater powers that shape the multiverse, and the Deathlords who usher souls off into the beyond. You all know what's at stake if our world falls. You all know what happens to your domains if the Terminus grabs it. Because I've seen it, and it is not the good death. It is the great gnashing jaws of oblivion, the kind of thing that makes Ammut look like a yappy dog." "Do you really have to refer to her that way?" "Sorry, Osiris, trying to make a point here. What I am saying is... we have the power to move mountains, to turn back time, to stop death, in this very room tonight. We have all the powers of the divine of our behalf, when the mortals below you need them the most. "We are here to discuss terms for the continued survival of this world, and/or the souls that call it home."

The "Bedlam Ladies' Association" took a fair bit of aerial Googling, but soon, it became apparent. The Association was a historical society in a small, one-story cottage downtown, a relic kept safe from the devouring maw of gentrification and urban renewal by some horrific, eldritch tangle of zoning laws and old money. The Association had a mixed rep. It was one of the "respectable" faces of Bedlam City and a regular target for field traps, likely on the grounds of "Where the hell else are we going to take the brats with our money"? But the Association had a long history of conflict, dating back to an occupation by campus feminists back in the Seventies, devoted to "unearthing the imagery of womanhood" in Bedlam - one that had resulted in members of the group actually getting seats on the board as a result of targeted attention. And, judging by the current reasons for dispute from campus feminists, it had a very fixed, rather biological sense of the "imagery of womanhood." The Association appeared closed for the day - but then, with its drawn drapes, it usually appeared that way. There was no sign of a disturbance, even as sirens rang through the city below.

I'll allow it.

@EcalsneergOh yeah, this looks like a classical death geas. Not full of the potency that she is insta-dead if she moves towards breaking it, but you're not sure if that's part of the design. It could be a torturous death is part of the package, or just sloppy craftsmanship.

Temperance entered the conference room, a cold wind sweeping ahead of her. She had found the time to put on her face. She knew the odds were slim that anyone not affiliated with Eve and clued in to the nature of the superheroes dwelling in the DuTemps Building would be stomping around the conference room, but she still felt it helped to take precautions. Plus. It helped to reassure her against the sense that she was unmoored, on a world that was utterly alien to her. "She is here," she said. It was by deference to Kimber that Tarva was not hauled in to the conference room in a block of ice. She stayed close to the shadow witch, not taking a seat until she had. "Now. I believe we are all very interested in hearing your justification."

It looks like the woman in the suit has suffered a stroke, but she's not dead yet. If left alone, her death may be long and torturous, and you're not sure if there's something arcane keeping the stroke going... but she's not dead yet.

"Well, good for you," said the woman in the pantsuit - with something approaching scorn and shot through with a strange dash of admiration, but underlined with that fear reflex that seemed to cause so many things to come out of a terrified individual. She leaned back against the brick wall, trying quite hard to catch her breath. A grim determination seemed to settle over her features. "Very well, then. If someone like that is loose, we're all going to die. But perhaps my death can mean something..." She stepped forward. "I can't say too much. If I speak directly, I..." One eye began to droop, drifting downward as the other stared right ahead. "It's... starting. The bind, it's..." Her words choked for a second, as if her tongue turned to raw meat. "You musst know... find... Bedlam... Ladies'... Accckkk..." She slumped to the ground, one arm twitching. Her back fell against the wall, and she sat much like a marionette lying discarded on the stage, one hand still in convulsions.

Nick retreated to his corner of the Parkhurst, where he'd set aside the materials he needed for this ritual. This would be tricky. He remembered something he'd heard from an occultist who'd managed to pull off one of these multi-party deals - you never want to do them close enough together that the first party going runs into the second party coming. Of course, he'd been dealing with the infernal, and eventually, the only thing found left of him was a large intestine left hanging from a lamppost on Bourbon Street. These were not demons, though some of them did like to front as such. It began with the invocation to Legba, the opening of the crossroads. Four paths that would open through the halls of Parkhurst, leading the gods to the central room. Now began the offerings. Camphor and grave dirt, fine wine and cigars, rotted fruit and maggot-ridden meat - and finally, two coins, one of iron, one of gold. From the west came a black man in coat tails and top hat. Unlike his more prominent brother, he carried himself with a regal air, the cigar in his fingers held with a gentleman's grace. "I, Baron Cimitiere, speak for the lwa." From the east came a woman in a gown that was likely once white; now, it was caked through with pus and ruin millennia old. Her face was ragged and maggot-eaten, her nails long and terrible, and her eyes possessed of hunger. "I, Inazami-no-Mikoto, speak for the kami." From the north came a man with green skin and a long, stylized beard, smelling of kohl. The flail in his hand looked like it could tear down buildings, but the smile on his face was far too affable. "I, Osiris, speak for Heliopolis." And from the south came tongues of flames - flames Nick found entirely unnecessary, but knew they would be part of the display. An olive-skinned man emerged, clad in armor of crimson and gold - armor that soon faded away into a suit the color of obsidian that looked like it cost several souls. "I am Hades. And I speak for my world."

Cannonade Initiative: 17

The old woman had a glint of steel in her eyes the second Arrowhawk spun her around - but between the explosion and the carnage in the room upstairs, there was clear reason for her resolve to snap. She turned away, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. "There are things I cannot say," she said, "for my tongue is bound and my soul may be forfeit. We all swore to follow from the examples of our mothers, who were bled for this city and decided to make it bleed in turn. In time, however, they decided we were more important. But there are those who still believe that death must be grasped with both hands... and whatever they extended a hand towards, it is horrible beyond the telling." Lady Horus, meanwhile, was closing on the Omegadrone. It was still staggered from the assault it had taken, and while it seemed to be righting itself, its flight pack was no match for the Ankh of Horus. He was 1000 feet out... 500... 200... And then there was a grand swirling tide of black in the air, north-north-west from the Omegadrone's current course. The Omegadrone banked hard, driving into the portal and vanishing into its inky folds. Lady Horus was no expert in magic, but the thing seemed to be collapsing fairly rapidly. She might have a few seconds to get through... but what would be on the other side?

She's tough, but not that tough, so she's happy to talk.

APPROVED

APPROVED

Abilities Math checks out, but you may want to list the total under this subsection as 50 PP, not 20 PP. Skills Math comes out to 65 ranks, not 64. Powers Math comes out to 110 PP, not 109.

Welcome back. APPROVED

Nick smiled to Rene as he entered the lobby. "It's been too long," he said. "And while I wish we were getting under together under more pleasant circumstances, well... this is how it is. If it helps, I have coffee, pastries, and liquor set out in the kitchen. But we may need to save some of them for our guests." When Phantom arrived, he gave a polite nod. "I've got the offerings set up, as requested. All we need to do is beseech them, perform the right rituals... in my case, I'll have to get around the Pact, but it should be relatively easy as long as I don't step over the line." Nick rapped his knuckles against the wall. "I also spent most of the day working magic into the walls. Once we convene at the table, the Parkhurst is technically going to exist on multiple planes. We will be of Earth and outside of it. It will allow those who might be affected by the Pact full ability to lend influence, but only as long as they stay here. And if anyone gets too rowdy, I can collapse the enchantment and hurl us back into reality." Nick looked at the corner, where a large amount of items were gathered. "I... may be pulling double duty. Triple, even. Some of the Deathlords are extremely possessive, and if they find out a deal was made regarding matters of death on this scale, they may just throw a wrench in the works. Even if it's their own continued existence on the line." He shook his head. "We are entering... very experimental territory here. I'm giving you full veto power. You're the Master Mage - they'll listen to you above anyone else." He clapped his hands. "Once Ms. Britannia gets here, we can start. But if anyone thinks it might take longer to invoke your particular representative, feel free to get stared."

Cannonade nodded. "I'm not really the sneaking type, anyway," he said, "and while I can leap, it's definitely not the same thing as flying." He looked out over the range. He considered the possibility of a distraction - of leaping across the range, drawing fire from the Omegadrones while the others took advantage of the chaos. But then there were all the civilians. And a plan like this hinged on the possibility that the Omegadrones would consider the civilians too valuable to shoot through - and he knew the odds of that were slim, at best. "We ready?"

The Omegadrone staggered back, still confined by Arrowhawk, under the assault of Lady Horus. By now, the illusion was gone entirely, and everyone could see it for what it was. Some of those who hadn't decided to run took a second to process what they were seeing - the colors of the Omegadrone weren't the standard red from the news footage, but pure black - but once it got through, the panic only intensified. As the civilians struggled to get clear, the Omegadrone managed to push against its confines and manipulate its power pike. The surge of black energy lashed out from its tip, towards Lady Horus - - and right past her, into the brownstone. The exposed timbers of the building caught fire, and in a matter of seconds, so did the gas. The explosion ripped through the street, charring the sides of both buildings and knocking those gathered back. In the confusion, Arrowhawk's grip faltered - and the Omegadrone surged out of her arms, flying sky high at blinding speed. The sound of distant sirens was growing closer as the building burned. The old woman with the dagger started to stagger away, muttering to herself. "Those zealots... they think they know... well, if the end comes, then so be it..."

"That is a very good question," said Eliza. "I think I have a good idea." She could feel something stirring within her, and if it lashed out any further, it might result in ruined pipes and broken sprinklers. And given they had no idea where they were - or how long they might be there - there might not be all that much water to spare. She could feel the Temperance voice slipping in, that little measure of control. "Bluebird, I would not dream of giving you orders, but we need to know how many civilians were in the building when we teleported. I think we have a register of permanent residents and on-staff officers somewhere, but if we..." Can't go back. If she won't take us back. If something happens to her before we can make her take us back. "...are here for the long haul, we need to start making plans for how to minister to their needs. If they've gathered at the emergency areas, they should be easy to log." As Eliza strode off, she found that the brief distraction had done nothing to quell that stirring within her. She liked to think she could keep her fury focused, that it was part of her comportment. Maybe it was part of having the blood of the deeps in her veins and the essence of ice within her. But as she strode down the halls, she felt the frost leak out of her, causing the carpet to turn crisp, then moist. She tried to keep it in, keep it from turning to a blizzard. But she found it was harder with each passing step. The door was locked. And then it wasn't. There was a bolt of brilliant darkness from the hallway as Eliza's will reached out to touch the door. She brought up a wall of ice to meet it, catching the brunt of the attack and not caring for the rest that remained. The metal in the lock snapped under conditions of bitter cold. Eliza stood there, still as a statue, as the door swung open. "We need to talk."

Nick Cimitiere, Phantom, Ms. Britannia, and Rene de Saens meet at the Parkhurst with emissaries of the realms invisible to strike a bargain for the survival of humanity - one way or another. So, this is how the thread is going to work. Everyone who wants to can bring in a retinue of "extranatural" representatives. In Nick's case, it may be death gods. In Phantom's case, it may be the powers out of Book of Magic. In Ms. Britannia's case, it may be anthropomorphic personifications/high-ranking entities of the spirit world. They are all being brought to the table to try to find means to ensure the world's survival - whether that means "intervening to save Earth" to "creating an escape hatch for both mortals and the souls of the dead." This is essentially that episode of Supernatural where the pagan gods drag the Winchesters to a hotel and tell them to do something and stop Lucifer from destroying the world - only we're the ones beseeching the divine. Bring your own NPCs. Flavor them as you will. Just don't be surprised if they start asking things of you that you don't expect.

The Parkhurst July 12, 2018 The Parkhurst had been a hotel, at one point. Between being a family home and being a haunted wreck, and long before it was a dwelling place for some of Freedom's occult community. It made perfect sense that it would serve as a gathering place for travelers tonight. Outside, in the distance, Nick Cimitiere watched the great fires lick up from Liberty Park. He had done what he could, where he could. But after the first day, he knew there was a chance this would not end as anyone hoped. He remembered the stories of the first Invasion, remembered being dragged out of school as grim angels with steel wings flew through the air and the scent of oblivion spread through the city. Now, death walked through the city again, hungry and rabid, with a taste for destruction that would make Ammut herself cringe. If there was a time for a miracle - or an infernal bargain - it would be tonight. And he could only hope for the former, but prepare for the latter. Nick stubbed out his cigarette and returned to the manor, ready to make preparations for his guests. Corporeal and otherwise.

All right. The most the Omegadrone can do at this time is use a 7, which will take it to 17, which means it is Dazed and Staggered. Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Bruised x2, Dazed, Pinned, Staggered Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed Realizing that this may be a lot harder than expected, the Omegadrone surges... and escapes, but not before doing some collateral damage. Everyone takes a Hero Point for the bad guy escaping, and there's some happy fun time chaos to interact with.

After talking it out back stage, we have a bonus thread: And the Moon Is In Shock (alderwitch, PHANTOM) - This is the apocalypse. In a not-so-simple house, somewhere in Freedom City, the men and women of wisdom gather. With them come the great powers that walk silent through this world - divinities, avatars, and other entities of the sublime. They have come to hash out the terms of survival - on this world, or off it. Who will barter their soul to gain the world? Who will answer to the untenable terms? Come to bargain. Pray you can accept the price. Taking two more occult/magic/divine characters. This is going to be a thread that's a mix of the "Dormammu, I've come to bargain" scene from Doctor Strange, the Season of Mists arc from The Sandman, and the bit in the motel in Lebanon, KS from American Gods. Bring your own deities, or equivalent force thereof - but try to keep the size of the retinue reasonable.

All right, let's process the next string of actions. AA has told me that Lady Horus is going to hit the Omegadrone with her ankh. As her next roll is a 15 - and I'm assuming that's what she wants to use, so feel free to correct me, AA - that will be a 27, which hits. DC27 versus a 4 + 11 for the Omegadrone, meaning that it is Dazed and Staggered. Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Bruised x1, Dazed, Staggered Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed On its turn, the Omegadrone shakes off the Dazed - Hero Point for everyone - but it's still Staggered, so its actions are limited. It focuses on channeling energy into its Force Field, activating its Impervious Toughness. In response to the Force Field going online, AA said Wadjet will be using the 20 she rolled to crit on an attack with the explosive paintballs, which will take the DC up to 28. The Omegadrone will be using its 11 for 11 + 11, which will give another Bruised and refresh the Dazed. Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Bruised x2, Dazed, Staggered Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed Arrowhawk will, I assume, be using the second 15 for her Grapple, which will make it a 32 on an Opposed Grapple check. The Omegadrone will use its 7, so with a +22, it gets a 29 on Opposed Grapple, meaning it is Pinned. Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Bruised x2, Dazed, Pinned Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed According to EP, JETTE, meanwhile, is using her 18 and Power Attacking for +2, which means a 22 to-hit (and it does) and a DC25, which will beat the Impervious. The Omegadrone, having few good options left, uses its 19, meaning it rolls a 29 on TOU and fends off the attack. If anyone has any actions they would like to alter for Round 3, let me know now. In the meantime, this will be a good time to get IC posts up. EDIT: And in the meantime, yes, the building is pretty much clear of civilians. There's still a gas leak, though, but that may be secondary to the big hulking death monster.

After talking it out with EP, he has decided to keep JETTE on rescue duty. There are still a few people trapped in the building, but you've managed to get quite a few out already. So, that's Round 1 down. Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Bruised x1 Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed I believe Lady Horus is up next.