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Ghost Stories - October / November Vignette 2021

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Something from the lower dimensions is trying to claw its way to Earth-Prime. Being Halloween the borders between worlds is thinner and with this malevolent force, spirits have been able to escape to Earth-Prime. Just another day for your heroes.

Happy Halloween! In honour of this, we’re having a horror-themed vignette for the next couple of months, some ideas to explore are:


  • Just a regular Halloween, though one in a world full of Supers. So you might be trick or treating with some superpowered kids or your party may be crashed by animal-themed supervillains.
  • One of the escaped ghosts or spirits has escaped and is causing havoc, a problem your hero is going to have to deal with. A chance to meet your favourite Horror creature, in a copyright-friendly way obviously.
  • Your hero is visited by a (literal) ghost from their past. It may be a chance to put old ghosts to rest or they may be out for some sort of revenge.

Whilst this is a horror-themed vignette remember its need to stay PG-13, just keep all that blood and gore to a minimum. 


Your ghost stories should be posted no later than the 30th November 2021.


(As a reminder, vignettes follow the same general rules as posts in terms of content, player character limits, and so on. You may have only one vignette per player character. Each vignette should be at least one page (~500 words) in length; if posted in your thread counts at the end of the month, it is worth 1pp for the associated character. An especially long vignette, 1000 words or more, may be worth up to 2pp. Multiple players can collaborate on a single vignette - we recommend Google Docs for this, it's very useful - but the vignette should be about one page per participating player.)

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Old Tales 



"Okay. I am telling this story in Japanese because I can't tell it in English at all. I am telling this story because I do not think anyone else knows it anymore, and I want to make sure it survives. This is a story from Neko Village in the Iya Valley of Japan. This is a story my parents told me when I was very small, just as they had heard it from their parents, and their parents, and so on. Here goes. 


Once there was a samurai named Umetsu Chubei, a young warrior who served as a night-guard at his lord's castle gates. One night, when he was on duty during the deepest, darkest, most magical part of the night, he had an unusual encounter with an ancestor of mine. She met him when he was climbing the hill to take up his position at the castle with a very special cargo - a baby who had been born in the village at the foot of the hill. She begged him for help, saying "Good Sir Umetsu, tonight I am in great trouble, and I have a most painful duty to perform; will you not kindly help me by holding this little baby for one moment?" So she held out the baby to him - and though he must have feared goblins or demons, he took the baby from her. 


Recognizing that he was indeed a brave warrior to take a burden from a mysterious stranger, even one who had hidden her true nature from him, she smiled and said "Thank you! Please hold it until I come back. I will return in a very little while!" 

So she turned and ran away into the darkness at the side of the road, fast on all four legs, and by the time he turned around to look, she was gone! Now she wasn't there to watch him as he held the baby, but she could feel him through the spell that bound her to it, and she knew what he must have been feeling. What he was feeling was that the baby was growing heavier and heavier!  Ten pounds! Twenty! Fifty! A hundred! Oh he longed to drop the baby but a samurai does not break his word, so he held it! Two hundred! Three hundred! Four hundred pounds! 


When he thought his muscles would give way, he began to pray - Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu! And when he finished the prayer, he looked down and realized - the baby was gone! 


Now my ancestor went looking for him after that, and she found him standing still at the side of the road, a look of bafflement on his face. She was tired after all that had happened that evening, sweating and her sleeves bound back, but she told him the truth - which is not something my people like to do if we can help it! "Kind Sir," she told him, "yI am the guardian of this place, and tonight one of the women in the village below found herself in the pains of labor, so she called to me for help! When I saw I could not do it alone, I found the strongest and bravest warrior in this castle." The child she had laid in his hands was the child that had not been born, you see! 


When he felt it becoming heavy, the peril to mother and baby was growing, when he thought he might drop it, both of them would have died! Only his strength, his courage, and his prayer had saved the baby and mother! So my ancestor gave him a just reward; strength to bend iron in his bare hands, and leap over a house in a single bound! He became a great warrior in his lord's service, and his children carried his gift into the future. 


I think this story reminds us that those who are not yet born are just as real as those who have passed into the other realm, the ghosts of those who have not yet lived. It also reminds us about trust, and loyalty, and keeping one's word above all things. That's what my parents told me, anyway...


Ah. Ah, I think I'm done." 



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Little Mermaid II

Something’s Rotten




Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.


Seriously rotten! As serious as the ghost of King Claudius (who was entirely fictional, by the way, but hey, who’s counting?) having risen to try to take his revenge on Hamlet (also fictional, for the most part) by destroying Kronborg and not caring at all about whoever caught up in all that.


Mette threw a wall of water up to stop yet another of the heavy old time cannons being thrown by the ghost before it crushed a man and a young child. Sure, the cannon was damn heavy, but the water pushing back it? Even heavier.


“Get out of here, I’ll handle it!” she shouted to the man and the child while she dropped the water barrier, just in time to look up at the ghost.


King Claudius looked, for a lack of better words, utterly stereotypical. A giant ghost that floated above the castle, most of his body featureless, but with an impressive royal cape and a large crown. He had a beard, but obviously balding under the crown, but that really didn’t matter right this second, did it.


“Hey! Down here! Stop throwing stuff at people!” Mette focused, raised her right hand and let loose a blast of water that passed right through Claudius. Kinda like she had expected to happen. “Look, down here! Woman in green and white, can’t miss me!”


For a moment, nothing happened, then Claudius turned towards Mette. He shouted something about who dared, how he would get his rightful revenge on Hamlet, all the usual stuff. Nothing new there. Honestly, Mette had expected something better from a Shakespearan ghost. 


“You!? You dare to stand against I, the great Claudius? To stand between me and my rightful revenge!?”


Just a bit too stereotypical, wasn’t it?


“Damn right!” Mette shouted back, shaking a fist in his general direction.


Mette had dealt with ghosts before. She knew they were a thing, something that would happen and everything. No good hero could avoid running into ghosts forever, right? Her mentor had run-ins with some before, but why did Claudius show up now? Because of Halloween? That made a little sense, but only just barely. Sure, there was a bit of cultural significance there, but honestly? Not so much in Denmark. Halloween didn’t matter that much, aside from companies selling costumes and candy.


Besides, Claudius was entirely fictional. It didn’t make any damn sense that he would be brought back to un-life or whatever when he had never ever really been alive.




Claudius held up a hand, and another cannon went flying for Mette. This time she didn’t dodge it, instead reaching up with both hands and grabbing hold of it. Water didn’t help, but he was a ghost, so cold iron, maybe? And she just happened to be lifting about one and a half tons of cold iron right here. Somebody important would probably be pissed, but she didn’t really care right now. She needed something that could hit that guy, and he had already shown that he could throw them around.


“Would you just shut up already?”


The Little Mermaid leapt, raising the cannon above her head and slammed it down on the ghost of Claudius’ head, right on top of the crown. The spectral crown caved in, while the ghost was sent to the ground below. It started shrinking rapidly during the fall.


Mette pushed, creating a burst of water behind herself to send herself after the ghost, landing next to it. 


“Yooouuuuu!” Claudius, now barely taller than a normal man, started to rise.


And was met with a cannon to the face once again, bringing him down again.


“Would you just quit already? You don’t make any sense, man.” Mette lifted the cannon up, holding it resting over her shoulders. “You don’t even make any sense. C’mon, the ghost of Claudius? Claudius wasn’t real, just something that Shakespeare made up for his story. There’s no Hamlet for you to take revenge on or anything. Not like there’s any revenge to be had anyway.”


The ghost looked rather more pathetic now, lying on the ground with a bent and broken crown. He looked up, looking much more like a sad old man than a mighty cursed king.




Mette almost wanted to laugh, the way the ghost of Claudius was just sitting there, staring up at her. He was about to rise again, until he saw her moving the cannon into position again. He settled down, deciding it was best not to move again, it seemed.


“It… But I am Claudius! King Claudius! The King of Denmark, uncle of Hamlet! I am not just some story!” 


This again? 


“You’re not Claudius. Denmark’s never had a King Claudius.” 


Mette shook her head and shift the heavy cannon a bit. 


“Who are you? I’m not some kind of ghost expert, but I’m pretty sure that you are a ghost of some kind. You got the crown, the cape, the face, but everything else is kind of blurry.”


She started moving around him, while the ghost looked up at him. Mette wasn’t sure just what he seemed to be thinking, but it seemed like she was getting through to him, at least. 


“So, what’s your deal? You’re a ghost, you’re pretty powerful, you claim to be the ghost of some fictional king, but why? Do you just want to cause trouble or something like that?”


The ghost shook, then smiled.


“I think… I was an actor.”


Seriously? He probably played King Claudius too.


“King Claudius was my greatest role, but I died, and I think I forgot myself for a while. Something called me back and I could not remember anything else.”


Yep, Mette was right.


“Sooo… You’re done, then? No more throwing stuff at people? Because, I still got this big cannon and I’d be more than happy to hit you a few more times if that’s what it takes.”


The ghost almost looked scared, then smiled.


“Yes. I think I can move on.”


As Mette watched, the Ghost slowly faded away.

Great. A crazy ghost, and I guess I’m the one that’s left to clean up this entire mess?”

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The Ghost In The Shell 

During the Eurotrip 

3AM Scottish time 


"Oh! Eira!" Judy found Eira on the roof of the train, the android girl sitting cross-legged and unsecured atop the flat metal surface. Glowing a faint, iridescent shade of rainbow, Judy supposed she was far less discreet than the other girl. "Ah'm sorry, Ah'll leave you out here to-" Come to think of it, she wasn't really sure what the punk rock girl - woman, now? would be doing up here in the first place. The train's wifi was definitely not as good up here, she could tell that much. 


"No, no," said Eira, waving a hand dismissively. "Come and stay out here if you like." It was all quiet down below, she knew; all the humans below, even the ones with magical stamina, were sound asleep. That left just machine intelligences, and aliens. As Judy sat down carefully on the top of the train, Eira thought again how frustrated she had been to find that the "Smith girls" had so utterly fooled her during their time together at Claremont. She must be more clever than she had first thought. "I suppose it's just the two of us tonight, yes?" 


"Yes, well...it seems that way," said Judy, raising her voice just a little over the train. "Nobody here but us non-sleepers." She wasn't quite as smooth sitting down with the robot, and was surprised when Eira reached up a steely hand to grip onto hers, holding her securely as she took a place opposite her. She wasn't about to turn it away, though..."Careful, she said a little nervously. "Ah'm hard on technology sometimes." 


"I am well-made," said Eira with a dismissive wave with her free hand. She smirked. "After all, I made myself, after a fashion." With help from Dragonfly and Miss Americana, of course, but there was no reason to dwell on that now. "What brings you out here, Judy?


Judy hesitated, looking at Eira and remembering her sharp tongue in dealing with other girls, then shrugged to herself. The opinion of a high school kid didn't really matter now, did it? "Ah came out to listen to the stars." She looked up at the dot-dappled sky overhead and pointed. "Ah can hear them really well here, much better than Ah could back in Freedom." She smiled, her eyes glowing rainbow bright, and commented, "They're singing tonight." 


"Hmm." Eira looked up at the stars herself, tuning into the radio broadcasts available in the area and noting the radio emissions that were reaching the planet's surface through Earth's atmosphere. "I do not have your senses. But it is very - pleasant out here. I suppose your nature keeps you warm as well?"  


"The cold never bothered me anyway," said Judy with a wry smile. She looked at the robot and said, "What about you? Ah guess a little breeze isn't any problem for you?" 


"I could walk through the Arctic Circle naked and not be bothered." Eira grinned. "That is no idle boast, by the way, I have done that.


Judy blushed, her skin turning a pretty shade of rainbow. "Eira! That's - Ah just don't know what to say to that." She shook her head, despite herself smiling a little. Eira seemed to be more pleasant to be around when she wasn't around other teenagers. "Ah guess machines are different than humans." She was far too well brought up to say 'people,' at least to the other person's face, anyway. "And you've been that way since you were - ten, right?" 


"Eight," said Eira reflectively. "I was eight years old when I was given my first new body. Far inferior to this one," she said with a shrug and a gesture at herself, "but it was far superior to the one Nature gave me. I do not miss it.


"Not _ever_?" Judy asked, surprised, thinking of the nights where she'd missed food, and smell, and comforting familiarity of breathing, and the sleep that came from inside herself rather than a gift from Ashley. "You never missed being human?" 


 Eira hesitated a moment on her own, sensing the real feelings in the girl's words. "You must understand, I was uploaded when I was eight, but I was sick for many years before that. I was...weaker, and frailer, than other children for almost as long as I can remember. I remember laying in a bed in hospital and wishing that something, anything would come along and make me better, but knowing nothing could do so. The way I think of it, My organic body was holding me back. I was given a better one. That is why I am a superhero," she said, "and not just a machine intelligence somewhere. I want to help other people the way I was helped." 


"That's a good and worthy sentiment," said Judy seriously. I guess you don't have to look like a good girl to be a good girl. "Ah'm sure the people who made your body are very proud." She hesitated, then pressed, "But what about...you know...the spiritual side of things? Don't you ever wonder about that?" 


Eira's lips curled in a humorless smile. "Ah yes. I wondered if you might try to save my soul on this trip. Worry not." She tapped the side of her head. "There is no 'ghost in the shell', there is nothing there to save. I know this to be true.


Judy blinked, not sure she had heard the other girl properly. "You - you don't have a soul? You believe in souls and you know you don't have one? How can - how can that not bother you?!" she called, a little too loudly even over the noise of the train. 


"Well. One cannot miss what one has never had, yes?" Eira shrugged. "What I am is what I have been for almost as long as I can remember. There was something else there, but it has gone where souls go when they escape the flesh. It has nothing to do with me." She hesitated, then said, "Besides - what do I need with one?" She looked up at the stars and said, "When I look at the stars, I know the names of each and every one. When I look at Pan, I know how much we mean to each other. When I look at Miss Americana, at my parents, at those who care for me, I know how much I feel for them." She snorted. "If that is no soul, then let the universe come to me and find the difference. For I can see none. And I can see a great many things.


For the second time, Judy was left with nothing to say - or rather, with nothing to say that would be polite. So instead she said, "Do you want to know what the stars are saying?" When Eira nodded, she leaned back and pointed to the skies above. "That there is a big...a big old star just at the end of its life. It has a companion star orbiting it closer and closer every year, and one day they're gonna meet and the whole heavens will feel it." She smiled. "Maybe Ah'll be there to see it when it does." 

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Глубоко в архивах.



Three hundred years was a long time to collect ghosts.

Klara had spent the night down in the depths of Ministries records, a briefing from the League about a new teen hero had sparked a memory from the War. Archives like this were a liminal space filled with the ghost of the memories put down, most from people long gone. Giving that she’d started on Samhain the barriers were even thinner, and mystics had been talking about something big going down, so to find a ghost appearing wasn’t really a big surprise.

<“ Hello Klara Svoboda!”>

Barely looking up from the box she’d been looking through Klara replied nonplus, she’d grown up in a place where spirits were an almost mundane thing. She recognized the old uniform the ghost wore, the uniform of a KGB officer, one she knew so well for her time in Soviet Russia.

<”Hello Comrade Kariyeva Filippovna, it’s been a while. Have you lost weight?”> she even used the Russian she learned back then rather than how she spoke it now

<”So you haven’t forgotten me then?”> the ghost didn’t sound at all amused

<”You were my last handler before I left for the West, and it won’t work you know.”> it had been a long day and she would be trouble for missing dinner and probably now breakfast <”It’s not you who I feel any guilt about, I suspect you don’t remember poor Private Volvakov Yeremey Kirillovich?”>

The ghost looked confused trying to figure out who this person was and how they would have been important to Glorious Russia.

<”He was with the first unit I was assigned with, a poor kid with big dreams. Without thinking he took a bullet for me, even though I wouldn’t have been fine. The first time I saw someone I knew die...”> before the ghost could give a smart arse reply about the war she carried on speaking <”Then there’s Sopova, she had the cutest giggle. She was with the Night Witches when I first joined. We got drunk on cheap booze and I kissed her without thinking, she gently told me about her husband. The first night out I was showboating with a couple of Messerschmitt’s and she got caught by flak. If I’d been more attentive she probably would have made it back okay.”>

The ghost was silent now, obviously knew that she wasn’t going to get easy revenge. And Klara thought she felt the presence of others, this must have been tied to whatever the mystics had been on about.

<”Then there were all those times I could have saved so many deaths with just one, for a few months I helping out the Chinese Communist. Imagine the lives that I could have saved if I’d just quietly snapped Mao’s neck?”> she frowned for a few seconds before a realization hit her “Right a cat that was what I was thinking about, the Catgirl with the Japanese supers.”

She looked at the ghost, she knew the woman spoke perfect English, not that she’d admit that she knew such a decadent western tongue. Knowing where to look now she went to go towards the relevant shelf, leaving a parting shot.

<“Besides you died at the age of 97 and bitter old woman, don’t think that you can make me feel guilty for your life. I know about all the people you sent to the gulag or worse so I wouldn’t find the truth about the dirty underside of the glorious Soviet Union.”>

She walked down a few more shelves now knowing where she was going to look, but that itchy feeling hadn’t gone away though it felt a little different somehow. Klara might have been bought up a warrior but she had still be trained to trust her feeling on strange events going on around her.

“I might be two hundred and fifty but my senses aren’t that bad yet! It’s fine to come out if you want.”

From the shadows formed the form of another young Russian woman, though one she was much happier to see. Even if it was tinged by a touch of sadness. Behind her, she could make out the shapes of many more, possibly more than she wanted to consider.

“I good to see you again Kristina! It was a good service I hope you enjoyed it?” she had been the last Night Witch Klara had known, living a quiet life in Freedom City

“It is good to see you as well little one! Thank you for the kinds words you said.” she smiled sweetly “And you have nothing to be sad about, I lived a long and happy life.” even when looking like a young woman she sounded like an old grandma

“I’m glad to hear it!” she kept walking looking for what she was looking for “What about the other there? Do they want to haunt me for a life wasted, whilst I keep on living my life?”

“We all get the life we get, it is pointless to get upset with things we cannot control.” she shrugged along with her very Russian attitude

“All part of the great plan? Any chance that you can tell me what's going on tonight… this morning I guess?” this hunch better be worth the grief she’d get from Tracy

“Something has allowed a thing to escape from the Otherside, we only came through to stop that сука causing you harm.”

Klara smiled as she remembered on the night the Night Witches, after several bottles from a German cellar, explained that she wasn’t protecting them they were protecting her. Perhaps things hadn’t changed as much as she thought, people still cared enough to look after her.

“Thank you as always, though I think it’s time you rejoin the squadron I have my own path to travel now! Enjoy that eternal R&R you’ve all earned that.”

With another smile the bunch of ghosts faded away, along as well she noticed Kariyeva. The archive felt the normal kind of haunted rather than the more literal kind. With a shrug she finally dug out the file she was after, the files thin on it was for Neko, Japanese for Cat, it was obvious really. She couldn’t be sure if it was the same person or some sort of legacy, it was certainly something interesting to look into. Klara wondered if she should see if she could track down this young hero, after all, she might like someone who remembered those times.

Maybe it might help her put to rest some ghosts of her own.

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  • 1 month later...

Crystal-Gazer (with special guest Grimalkin!)


Pier 13, Freedom City Docks. Monday, October 4th, 2021. 9:08 am


The simple construction trailer served as the field office for Grim Tidings, the non-for-profit organization that ran annual haunted houses benefiting various Freedom City charities. It famously utilized superheroes donating their time for both impressive chills and photo opportunities, both of which guaranteed significantly donations at the end of the season.


The biggest draw was Pier 13 itself, but the nonprofit's founder and namesake Grimalkin also made heroes available for other haunts including those run by churches, youth centers and even families struggling to get by. Its was one of Grim's proudest achievements, and she vetted each heroic volunteer personally.


- - -


Lulu Beaumont shifted uncomfortably in the folding metal chair as the petite heroine in black and midnight blue leather behind the desk read over her resume. Grim looked up and frowned slightly in concern.


"I'm sorry, these chairs suck. Let me get you something's more comfortable" She waved her hand and a well-padded leather chair appeared. "There you go, that should be better."


"Thank you, ma'am. Oh Lord, that's much better, thank you!"


"Not a problem. So what kind of 'spooky experience' do you have? Kind of a weird question, I know."


Lulu waved a hand and crossed her legs.


"Oh, not at all, ma'am! Well, let's see. Ah love scary movies-"


"Good! What's your favorite one?"


"Ah like all the Scream movies....Chucky and Freddy are great, although some of Freddy's movies kinda suck. Oh, and ah love The VVitch, too!"


"Okay, you've got good taste, nice!" The changeling made a few notes. "Any real world brushes with the supernatural?"


"Oh, unfortunately yes, ma'am. Once ah was trapped in a real life haunted house, and a demon possessed a kid at Claremont when ah was there. Not much fun." Lulu shuddered and shook her head.


"Oof, I'll bet! And lastly can you tell me a bit about your powers, if any?"


Lulu beamed, proud not to have to hide her powers for a change. "Why yes, ah'd be happy to, ma'am! Ah am a telepath and psychokinetic. Ah can put illusions in people's minds, but they don't show up on camera, which can be good or bad, really. And ah can do anything from liftin' up a car to writin' mah name with a pen, slick as you please."


"Sweet, let's see some!"


"Alright, well, hold onto your hat, ma'am, 'cause ah'm 'bout to blow your mind!"


And bless her heart, she did.

Edited by Heritage
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  • 3 weeks later...

Nightscale – Southside – Halloween Night.

It had been a while since the last time that the sound of a tommy gun had echoed through the alleys of Southside and perhaps, but Luke could not swear on that, it was a first that the weapons have been held by the undead hands of zombified gangsters.


Where the hell did they find them, by the way? 


It was not like the city buried gangsters with their weapons, right? And yet… There they were, roaming the streets of their former neighborhood. Under the command of some ghostly Don who had apparently forgotten that his time in power had been over by nearly a century. 


In hindsight, he could not exactly complain that the small undead army was using vintage weaponry, after all, they could hardly penetrate the scales of the huge black dragon that was trying to herd them away from the streets.


Come on. I have a freakin’ date, go back to sleep, will you?


He roared angrily as he dashed past a corner, chasing a ghostly old timey limo with the undead Don and his most trusted goons. The dragon smirked. It was a dead-end. Apparently, the memory of the ghostly godfather was as rotten as the brains of his minions.


“Hey Capone knock-off, there is nowhere else to go.”


The undead mobster however didn’t seem that worried, in fact, he had dismounted his ethereal vehicle and was now facing Luke with a twisted grin on his lips. 


“Indeed, insolent lizard. Although, It is fortunate, for me at least, that the case applies only to you, isn’t it?” 


Luke was about to protest a small army of fedora-wearing zombies appeared on the roofs nearby and began to pile up on the dragon. 
As Nightscale was occupied dealing with the sudden onslaught, the mobster walked back to his ride, deliberately, showing no sign of urgency. 


“Goodbye, my scaled friend.” He waved at Luke. “I will see you on the other side…” The malevolent laugher of the undead Don echoed powerfully as the limo and all of its occupants dashed directly through one of the walls, like if it wasn’t even there.


Of course… 


He should have thought of that shouldn’t he? 




He had more pressing matters to attend to. Nightscale swathed a few of the zombies away, producing a satisfying crash when the undead creatures hit the ground. The relief though, was only temporary as more and more of them began to pour from every direction. Perhaps he could have burned them away with dragonfire, but there was no way he was gonna unleash his flames in a populated neighborhood.
He extended his wings, but the creatures had already began clinging on them, their weight preventing even his powerful muscles from gathering enough momentum. Now he could feel some of undead trying to climb upward on his neck, using his crests to anchor themselves.


Damn! He was… Well… He was about to be overwhelmed. Again, Luke tried to shake them away, but it was a futile effort. There were just too many of those things. He roared in frustration. Individually, the undead were freaking ants compared to him and yet… they were winning. Luke’s eyes widened as he desperately tried to think of a way out.


Bang! Bang! Bang! Gunfire. 


One of the zombies that had begun climbing his serpentine neck fell to the ground, burning away shortly thereafter when whatever supernatural power was keeping it there faded. Another quickly followed. Then more… And more…


What the-? 

A symphony of gunshots, bricks, pots and assorted trash fell on the undead horde. Not all of projectiles managed to strike true, of course, but the one that failed bounced harmlessly on his armored scales anyway. The zombies were not that well protected. 


Soon their numbers was no longer enough to keep the massive lizard pinned.
Finally free to move, Nightscale roared again, triumphantly this time. His claws and fangs making short work of what was left of them.


He could hear a chorus of cheers now. 



Luke turned toward his saviors, a crowd of locals, some of them just concerned citizens, others thugs, gangsters and petty criminals, the kind of types that usually didn’t have much sympathy for the Southside Dragon. And yet… There they were to save his life in a time of need.


“These are our streets. And you are our dragon.” Their leader explained, as her gaze met with the gold pool of the dragon’s eyes, there was a playful grin on her lips. “Now go and get the Don, will you?”
Nightscale nodded, bowing in gratitude toward the small crowd as he unfurled his wings. 




Now, sure, the ghost-limo could pass through walls, which was definitely an advantage, but then again, an old-timey car could not drive faster than a dragon could fly. With his claws infused with supernatural power, Nightscale landed on the hood of the vehicle, crashing its spectral engine like it was nothing, but a toy.


The Don and his crew of undead minions darted out of the limo. One of them, the don right hand man (right hand ghost, maybe?), a tall specter in a fedora, a well- tailored suit and built like a football player, unleashed a hail of a gunfire, the bullets shrouded in a sickly blue glow. 


Luke winced as some of the projectiles managed to pierce even his formidable hide. He didn’t let the setback stop him however. He lounged forward, snatching the ghost in his fangs, which were still burning with supernatural energy and trapping the creature within, ignoring its angry howls until it faded away into nothingness.


The rest of the don minions weren’t as eager to face the monster that had just dispatched their toughest fighter and raised their hands in defeat.


 “Go back to sleep old relic. Your time is over.” Luke let the flames begin to rise from his chest, the otherworldly glow already emerging between his fangs.


“So it seems.” The Don replied, there was no fear in the dark pool of his eyes however. He raised a hand to signal his remaining minions, that had already began to scatter away to avoid a fiery demise, to stop. “For now… at least.” The grin on the desiccated and fading lips of the undead mobster sent a shiver down Luke’s spine.  “I will see you soon. Young man.” 


Then the entity finally vanished, leaving but an echo of his laughter as a proof that he ever been there.

Edited by Nerdzul
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