Averick

I just wanted to be yet another person who comes on and tells you that RP stands for "role playing", where you actually just play a role. Not Roll Playing, where you pretend to be buttery and flaky. Though many roleplayers are flaky, but not really buttery. Or they could be buttery, you know, if they like weigh a lot or something. Ew, kind of grossed myself out there.

Anyhoo. Really I don't have anything to contribute I'm just extremely lonely. Oh, that and I wanted to let you know what RP stands for. Cause you obviously didn't know. Cause I love it when I say "can someone tell me how DHCP works", and instead of telling me anything useful they tell me what the acronym means.

Ok, RP as I see it.

Minimal: Grrr, my 24th lvl scrapper is angry, because he's just been defeated by Freakshow.

Light: And the best part about this plan, is that with my amazing superpowers, nothing could possibly go wrong. ((LOL)) [see the (()) means Out of Character. That's what OOC means. There, I just saved forty two people having to post what OOC means. Now only eight will.]

Just right: You guys hold them off, I'll go for help! ((RUN! My character is evil!))

Uncomfortable: Forsooth, how is it that you are conversing with thine honoured lord. [I hate it when they spell it with a "U"]

Get out of my team: I just don't understand why you have to always be so angry ever since I had the baby! I just sometimes feel like you don't love me anymore. You NEVER say it! Do you even WANT this baby? Do you resent it because it means your going to have to grow up? I just feel so ugly and alone! *runs off and cries*

So, pick your poison.

The hallway ended in a gate, but it wasn’t powered. And by ended, I mean there was no more hallway. They were in a small room with rock walls and nowhere to hide.

Mystic stood in front of the gate, using flame from his hand to light the runes. He read from right to left, from down to up and came to one conclusion. He was not reading a manual on how to start up a transportation gate.

“You may want to hurry.” The sound of spines escaping their fleshy sheaths punctuated Sting’s request.

Mystic threw his will at the gate and the runes lit up instantly in response. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew that the gate on the other side was not there, and the enchantment was busily searching for a gate to respond. Finding one in moments, it would still be more seconds before enough magical energy could be built up to allow the enchantment to work.

Mystic turned toward the hallway. “When the gate powers up, you go, I’ll hold them off.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No no, I can do it,” Mystic waved his hand, gesturing for them to go without question, then added softly, “for a while.”

When they heard the magical enchantment of the gate become active, the voices of their trapped prey and saw the light at the end of the hall, the pursuers became frenzied.

Alfred saw a madness mage leading the pack, with a behemoth overlord behind him, lighting the hallway with the flames that trailed from his hands. He recited the Geas of the kind one, and the Eye of the Magus and stood in the hallway. They came at him. He drew forth all the power he could muster, focused it and aimed it, then let loose his fireball, flaming breath and sent out an inferno. The behemoth overlord was injured and angry, and picked Mystic up with both hands and threw him.

From the ground, the mage drank a small, blue vial of liquid, then waded into the re-enforcements. He consumed their life energy in blue flame, and drew it into him, then released it in red and yellow flame that scorched the walls black. Flame and psychic energy, and life energy, and rocks flew down the hallway at him in a sea of crossbows. The aura of flame that erupted around him seared anyone that got close enough to touch him, keeping their attention on him, but the clock was ticking. The spells would last only a little while longer, and even with their protection, he was being mercilessly battered, and had to use a healing potion, for fear of losing consciousness.

The mage looked over his shoulder as he continued to hurl flame down the hallway. The gate had just come to life. A swirling, white mist formed in the center of it.

The first entries were made by someone that Mystic might have admired. From what he was gathering from the text, the individual had begun the invasion of Orenbenga with the best intentions and somewhat under duress. From what he could gather, things went really poorly at first. The Orenbengans fought with great tenacity using powerful magic and even technology. It was only through superior numbers and raw force that they pushed past the first few bottlenecks.

Then, the commanders began reporting that the defenders simply stopped fighting back, and were being slaughtered. To the force commander’s credit, he tried to put an end to it, but could not control his suddenly bloodthirsty men. As Mystic flipped to the forward sections of the diary, the discussion changed to deciphering the ancient language being used by the Orenbengans, and trying to uncover the source of their magic. Dark imagery began to creep into his words, and his focus shifted from the secrets of magic which were being unlocked surprisingly easily to the nature of darkness and notes about how close they all were to the end. The final pages were a mixture of reports of losses, the description of how desperate the situation had become, and the ramblings of a madman.

Mystic closed the book. He began looking around for various tomes he could use, and putting them in his extra dimensional hiding place. He was busy leafing through a tome on the collective writings regarding the origins of Orenbenga and the secrets of their magical construction when Sting leaped from the ledge at the end of the hall, all the way to the doorway in one jump. “Company,” was his only word.

Alfred unrolled a nearby map after placing the book away in another dimension. “According to the diary, there should be another exit from where the Circle began their attack. If we can find that…”

“Hurry.”

It was Sting that got the final blow in on the Madness mage, though he was locked in spell to spell combat with Mystic. The last blow from the Madness mage turned Mystic’s world upside down. It wasn’t the first time that his brain had been locked up, but it was the first time he’d been terrified by the results. He could hear the screams coming from the walls, feel the blood pouring down them and somehow, completely understood the marker he was standing on. It wasn’t a sign, or a record, it was a warning to the Circle of Thorns. It was set in the nexus of these corridors to warn the invading mages of their impending doom, a doom that would follow them to the grave and beyond.

“Boss?”

Sting’s face wasn’t exactly comforting, but then again it wasn’t anything like a Circle of Thorns mage or demon. “Uh, yeah. Alright, we need to go that way. The library is that way.” Mystic pointed down the dark hallway that had “don’t go down me” written all over it.

The corridor ran for nearly one hundred yards, without twist, turn or break, and ended in a large room like the inside of a pyramid. Mystic sent out flares of flame to the four corners of the room to provide some light in what was an otherwise entirely black room. A smaller, pyramid shaped room was at the center on the lowered floor, and steps led down from the ledge that they found themselves on upon exiting the hall.

The mage flew directly toward the building, leaving small flames dancing in mid air to light the path for the others along the way. Once he reached the door at the top of the small pyramid, he reached out to it with his mind and the doors flew open toward him. Inside, several rods hung against the wall like torches, but no flame came from them. Instead, at his entering, the tips of them began to glow with an eerie, red light..

“Sting, you should keep watch.” Mystic went to the nearest shelf of books and pulled a perfectly preserved text from it. He brushed aside some papers on the table in the middle of the room and opened the book. There was no dust on its pages, no cobwebs holding the shelves together. It was as if the book were just as it were when the Circle of Thorns mages scribed in it ages ago.

“This rune is death, I’m certain of it.” The Madness mage looked at the Death mage as if he were insanely babbling.

The wearer of the giant orange hat of status, and the orange robes of insanity scoffed at the darkly shrouded Death mage. “Are you mad? What would the death rune be doing on a map?”

The only answer he was to receive was a fireball hurled from a dark hallway and engulfing them all in flame, followed by a blue robed mage speeding in and coming down on the marker in question with his heavy, black boots. Mystic drew in all the energy he could gather from the room, concentrated it, locked it onto certain targets, and let fly in all directions as spells began battering his defenses.

Flame blasted down every corridor for a few feet and several Guides and Guardians went down without getting up. From that point, everything was a blur to Mystic, who was desperately trying to drink down his potion of enervating light in time to burn the energy from his foes and drain it back into himself. Were it not for Sting and Newton, he surely would have been overrun before he could complete the maneuver.

Mystic moved forward to another chamber, then consulted his notes from his conversation with Witch. He read the runes on the walls as best he could, and determined that the unused section of Orenbega, in the abandoned portion of the city, was down the only unlit hallway, crowded with cobwebs. “Hmm, seems rather obvious now that I think about it,” he jeered at himself.

A quick flash of fire sent spiders of all varieties he’d never as much as heard of before, scurrying for the cracks in the tan stone. The hallway was clear before them, and he proceeded on. Not surprisingly, the hallway came to a juncture that was lit. Beyond, another dark corridor stretched on into the dark recesses of the city, but in the juncture was a dais, glowing with white magic and surrounded by mages. They had guides and guardians with them but no demons.

The tallest of the mages, made so by his huge orange hat, was standing in the middle and trying to decipher the runes. He was flanked by nasty looking mages with various forms of staves and wands and rods.

Mystic slowly pulled his head back around the corner and looked at Sting. After a moment, he grabbed Newton and pulled him slowly back around the corner.

“Did you see…?”

“Yes, I saw, there’s a few of them. We’re going to have to defeat them quickly and quietly, before they call for re-enforcements. Since I’m not at all good with the quiet, I’m afraid we’ll just have to be incredibly fast.” Mystic took one more peek, then turned to the others. “It looks as if they don’t have any demons with them. Let’s hit them with all we’ve got, then concentrate on the bloke in the funny hat. Sound good?” Mystic tried to smile beneath his facecloth.

"Once we step inside, there's absolutely no going back. I hope everyone understands that." Mystic gave his best solemn look through the energy bubble. Then, with one quick incantation and a single protection spell, he stepped through the portal into a small stone room.

The room was empty except for two pillars near the only exit, a small door. Torches sat idly on sconces on the inside of the pillars. Light crept in from the hallway outside the door. The tan bricks looked black in the shadows. The light blue light of the portal flickered again as someone else came through behind Mystic.

The mage crept to the hallway and looked. He could see several Behemoth Overlords walking down the hallway toward the small little room with nowhere to hide. Quickly Mystic sprung into action by spinning about and holding his hands up. In a whispering voice, yet still managing to sound like he were yelling, he cried “GO BACK! GO BACK!”

“Go back where? You said there was no going back! The portal isn’t lit from this end.”

Mystic turned back to the hallway to check the progress of impending death as it meandered toward them. There was only a Death Mage remaining, and soon he was walking directly into a wall and out of Mystic’s sight. The mage turned back to the others and shrugged.

Upon floating down the hallway a bit, he realized that his view was blocked, and there was another hall that the demons and mages were now walking down.

[Back for a week and a half yo, agian, pushing this along at my own pace, jump in if you wanna]

The blue robed mage stopped just shy of the portal when he heard the com go off. "Room for one more? Of course." Mystic tried to reach out and open the door from the inside, but there was little connection. When he tried an incantation though, he felt it open. "There, did that work? There's only one tunnel and we're at the end of it, where the portal is."

The entrance was heavy oak and had withstood the constant siege of time with fortitude, maintaining some the elegance it must have had when first hung. Mystic could see the magic flowing through it like tiny rivers. Almost imperceptible to most mages, these lines only denoted that the wood was crafted with magic, not protected by an active spell. The door yielded to Mystic’s will, and allowed entry. One step and they were in the caverns under Talos Island.

These caves were additions to Orenbega, carved in their image, but without the power of the Dark God behind them. They were crafted by the same type of magic, but filtered through a human soul. They contained no malice. Mystic led the way through the quiet halls until they came across some robed figures standing guard over a death mage summoning spirits. A bright flash of light and heat, and some screams of the impaled later, the summoning stopped. The duo found themselves in a room full of bodies and a porthole that led to Orenbega.

“We are looking for a library that has been untouched for quite a while. It’s in a deserted part of Orenbega that was originally used as the staging area for the attack against the original inhabitants. There is a ziggurat where a scholar and mage named Khezidzi reportedly documented the invasion and subsequent sacking of Orenbega. It is here we will find clues as to the origin of the magic used by these strange new creatures we encountered on the dock.” With that, the mage strode toward the portal.”

If there was one thing that could be said about Croatoa, it would be that it is a magical place. Some of the magic was enchanting, some mysterious, and more yet was maligned and dangerous. The witches were already wary of Mystic, he’d put a few of them down right out of the air when he had been there before. They knew him by appearance and reputation, and did not interfere with his activities unless he interfered with them. The ghosts shied away from his aura.

He spent three days looking through libraries, searching old homes and speaking with the War Witch and had become only slightly closer to understanding what he was looking at. He would have to travel to Orenbega now, it held the key. “I fancy I would have gotten a great deal of use out of a flat there should I have followed up on that notion when I had it,” he thought, only partially kidding, to himself.

He left a message on the main channel for the Two Six, but there was no immediate response. They were all busy or perhaps they’d just had enough and moved on to other assignments, not bothering to check out with him first. In either case, he fully expected he would be entering the familiar city alone, in search of the history of Orenbega in whatever form it may still exist. An ancient city filled with sorcerers and demons and ghosts guarding secrets of history. A twisted, extreme sports version of archeology worthy of Indiana Jones style moviemaking was never how he saw his life going.

Nonetheless, he headed to where his message said he would be entering Orenbega, reasonably certain he would be going it alone. And as he flew, he thought of his previous experiences and hoped that things would go more smoothly than usual, but realized that probably wouldn’t be the case.

I honestly don't get it. Is this some sort of complaint about PVP playballancing?

It took about an hour, but Mystic had cleared a section of the Two Six of debris and dirt. Where desks were pushed up against a wall and had things stacked on them randomly, now they were pushed into a semicircle and had things stacked on them purposefully. Books, with colored ribbons, maps tacked to the wall in such number as to make finding a bare spot difficult, and a timeline chart running down the side suggested that Mystic was officially obsessed with his latest project.

He sat and poured over books. He scribbled notes, wrote out theories and went about disproving them. And then he came to one inescapable conclusion, he needed to speak with the witch. He quickly double checked his rifle before placing it back into its hiding spot in a pseudo dimension. He did the same with his grenades and bow, to ensure he wouldn’t be caught unaware. Then he kicked himself for having prematurely returning the sword. “That would have come in handy,” he commented absently as he stood there in front of his satchel of books, wrapping his cloak around him and mentally preparing for his trip to the recently recovered, magical land.

“Quite frankly, it would mean a very dark god that’s living on this planet deep in the ocean somewhere that these creatures somehow have not just a spiritual connection with, but share DNA from as well. A missing link between Dinosaurs and humans that evolved and shot off from reptiles to form all kinds of mammals. The simple reason we haven’t found the missing link would then be because it’s buried at the bottom of the ocean and even if we did we’d hardly recognize it.” Mystic looked at Newton’s expression.

“Alright, in simple terms, it means that these events suggest that dinosaurs didn’t stay the same all those billions of years. It suggests that they mutated, some in good ways, some in very bad ways. As the face of the earth changed, they didn’t die out all at once, we only found fossils from certain time periods because of cataclysmic events that occurred wiping out a lot of various life forms from those times. Really they lived on, until the climate and food type caused them to slowly go extinct. But in that time they mutated into a great many types of creatures. From them evolved a humanoid creature that resembled a snake or lizard or perhaps even some other kind of reptile. This creature lived here.” Mystic pointed to Atlantis on the map. “Science has taught us that Atlantis was an island or city on a small mass of land. This would mean it would have to be within sailing distance. But the new information I’ve recently gathered, suggests that it might be an entire continent.”

“The magic I wield comes from the lost city, in one form or another. The magic wielded by those reptilian creatures does as well, which is why I was able to close the gate through sheer will. Those reptilians wore this ancient symbol which I found in these texts taken from Orenbega who were at war with the followers of Mu. This group is also known as the descendents of Mu, and they often try to mutate themselves in such a way as to resemble snakes. Indeed, even the snake creatures at the docks wore these pendants, which also hold a symbol of Mu, which they revere as a snake god. However, by looking at the symbol the snake creatures wore on their pendants, and comparing to the symbol on those reptilian creatures they summoned through the gate, it’s pretty easy to see that the reptiles wear a symbol which was the basis for the snake creatures pendant. Suggesting that the snake creatures possess a much more recently formed theology.” Mystic was pointing at pictures and underlining things like crazy, not even paying attention to whether or not Newton was following. “It’s all very simple, but the repercussions of this discovery could be devastating to our concept of Earth for Humans, and it creates many questions regarding the vast difference between four continents of humanity and how this Island may have connected at least three of them.”

“The smell is the Imp.” Alfred didn’t look up from his work. He let Newton go on. Until he’d finished. Then he turned to face him.

“I have no idea whom you’re speaking of. And we’ve settled the matter of the lizards, they were intended to be food for these creatures. Now all we have to do is find a way to get rid of them in the next week or so before they become a part of King’s Row permanently. What’s really giving me trouble is this arc.”

Alfred stepped back away from the board. “If these five authors are basing their work off of the same spoken myth, than we could have almost a Lovecraft type of scenario brewing. It’s possible that this big void of information regarding our own past on this planet might well be filled by a very dark story. If that’s the case… well, I don’t need to tell you what THAT would mean.”

The mage turned back to Newton.

~~~In King’s Row~~~

“How many Lacerta made it through the gate?” The Avatar of Mu stood nearly eight feet tall, still wrapped in the vestments of the priesthood, which covered his headmarkings.

The Flame of Mu knelt before him, in an abandoned portion of the sewer. Behind the Flame, were the rest of those who had come through the portal. The Biotech Archon and the Force Tech Guardian led the Technocracy troops. The Consort-Inquisitor and Striker-Serpent were the ranking infiltrators. Flame, Wrath, Voice, Slayer, Darkness, and other priesthood also filtered in.

You could easily tell the priesthood from the others. In addition to the face paint which was two purple “V”s over the face, one larger than the other, they wore fancy coats with hoods, all purple and blue. Additionally, the religious were called “of Mu” once they reached Acolyte status. The Technocracy were simply covered in tiny tech gadgets. Their names reflected station. The infiltrators were all young. Their leader, Consort-Inquisitor, commander of the Black Guard, was promoted due to her brutality and devotion, and not to skill or prowess that she’s demonstrated. Her face bore black tattoos, as did the rest of her scales. Her Katana, a human weapon from ancient times, rested on her back.


The flame of Mu answered, “A handful, twelve, maybe more.”

“And we are in a city of champions of humans?” The avatar watched heroes engage the shambling dead from doctor Vahz.

“Yes, Master. This is what I have come to understand.” The Flame did not look up from his station.

“Very well, we shall make use of Lord Recluse’s hospitality, but leave a beacon here, someplace safe. I intend to station the cult here. Additionally, there seems to be a better supply of dead here.” The avatar watched as one of the young heroes heading down the hallway toward them as the Lacerta began moving toward the exit that led to Recluse’s ship. He raised his arm at the young hero as their eyes met, and sharp needles flew out, imbedding themselves in the neck of the hero, right below his bright yellow mask.

Immediately the young hero froze, paralyzed from the poison. “Bring him with us, we will require nourishment for the trip ahead.”

Oh, page ten. Hmmm. Will anyone even make it to page ten?

So here’s the dilemma that occupies the mind of the leader of the philosophical VG: who cares and why?

The Cult of Mu… it’s dark, it’s full of mysteries and secrets and levels of power. It’s complicated, as it takes from its members, and it gives as well. The dark god owns all the glory, yet the power must rest in his minions, because without strong minions, your temples will be swept from the Earth. So how does the cult of Mu differ from other VGs?

We have a base, we have high level members, we have cool costumes. How about this, we’re looking for members who play around the PM hours Pacific time who work well with each other and have a desire to be creative, fun and entertain each other in a light RP environment. There are no politics, there is no “he said, she said”. People who are annoying or melodramatic will be asked to leave.

Leadership makes the difference, concept and storyline make the difference, and people make the difference. I just had the leader of one of the larger SGs send me a spamtell in game. I chatted with him for a moment before I realized he was probably17 AND socially inept. Either one of those things by themselves I can excuse, but both together are unnerving. Basically it ended with “but the big SG is teh win!”, and me going “great, you win, bye now”.

So aside from members, what is there? Quality. The cult is here to stay, but we’re only looking to grow about as big as 30. After that, we’re cutting recruiting. If you’re interested, please let me know. We have 17 members, looking for 13 more reliable members, who play fairly often, and are team players. All the RP stuff is in my sig, on the website.

Thank you for your time, if anyone is actually reading page ten.

Alfred was very confused. How was he able to just “switch off” the portal? He locked himself in his office for many hours, pouring over the book and other resource material. His research turned up a number of interesting things about the lost city of Atlantis in the notes he had accumulated over decades of study.

The writings and verbal stories he had accumulated from isolated cultures along what he had figured might have been the bordering areas painted a picture, but one that he had not had reason to believe in until the docks. As he began pulling out pictures, and posting notes and papers on his wall, his mind reverted back to who he was before the tome, before the magic, and before Paragon city.

Mystic wasn’t there, in that room, only Alfred. Oh… and an imp snacking on a sandwich. “I didn’t let you in, how did… the door is shut.”

“I poof!” There was a BAM and a small column of red flame erupted through a cloud of black smoke and Satanz was on the other side of the couch in an identical ball of smoke. The office suddenly smelled like burning rocks.

Alfred sighed and turned back to his work. It would have been more disturbing to try to remove the creature than just let him sit quietly, getting ham sandwich crumbs on his couch (which was in need of a vacuuming anyway).

It was quite a while before he had laid out a series of stories and dates on the wall, then gone and gotten a sharpie to draw the coast of Portugal and Italy and Greece. Then he drew the coast of North Africa. He placed the excavation site on the map, and connected the dots.

“It was on an entire continent, not just an island.”

Mystic threw spell after spell at the portal, his flame enshrouding it and slowly weakening it. But then something odd happened. Just as he was seeking to overcome the magic, he realized he could feel it.

"STOP!" Mystic cried, waiting for the assault on the portal to die out. He then held out his hands, and willed it shut. The portal blinked out of existence. The magic was the exact same kind as was given to him by the tome. He looked at the others, as surprised as they were. He caught glimpses of undead running amok on the ships in the harbor, flames covering those Arachnos brave or stupid enough to keep up the fight, and tall, reptilian creatures appearing out of nowhere to slaughter the defenders and release the cargo.

For seconds he stared, as the fight ended, and the ships began turning about, heading back to Mercy Island. He watched the reptilian creatures as they began to disembark the ships, much to the dismay of the snakes on board. They carried boxes with unknown cargos. There were ten of them, that Mystic could see.

Six wore priestly robes, one wore a vest, but was difficult to see, and that’s when she wasn’t invisible. The last three wore the garb of a scientifically advanced culture.

All I wanted were some taran-tu-las, with frikkin laser beams on their heads. Is that too much to frickin ask for?

Mystic nodded at Exodus, and turned to Newton. "Destroy the portal of course. It's a magical mainifestation, so it can be weakened and disripted by physical and magical attacks. Meanwhile, Newton you're going to have to crush it shut. If we can weaken it enough that Newton can collapse it, it will shut itself. Of course there's a very slim chance that it will explode and take the dock right off the map, but I'm nearly certain we can avoid that." Mystic blasted through the skylight with a ball of flame and dropped in on the the few snakes not fighting it out with those who would enslave their kin.

He laid down a few blasts of flame as the last large reptillians leaped onto ships from the dock. The remaining snakes were very surprised as they were washed with flame from above. They turned and came at Mystic, with swords and knives in their hands and their fangs extended.

Federalwoman!

“Do not patronize me, worm!” The death mage surrounded the Cobra in darkness, prompting raised hands and a fang filled expression of shock.

“No, no no. Thisssss is not tricksssss.” The warehouse was full of large crates, like those used by Crey to hide behind in the ambush on Smurd, only there was no Crey here, and no Smurd on the way. There were five mages of various flavors from the Circle of Thorns, and a dozen guardians and thorns. Only the Cobra and his lackey could be seen. “You are to help usssssss. We refuse Reclussssssssssssssssssssssssse. We sssssssssssserve you now.”

The look of rage faded from the Circle mage’s face, and turned to contempt. “What is it you require of us?”

The Cobra bowed and scraped as the darkness evaporated around him. “The shipssssss carry my people. Destroying Recluse’s men, will allow us to be free here! To be sssssssssssstrong here. Many new ssssssssservants for you, mage.” The Cobra moved to a box that emanated red light faintly through the cracks in the wood. The box was by itself in the open area of the loading bay, but there were large crates not too far off.

As the Cobra opened the box, the mages looked at each other. A large, red, crystal glowed ominously from its metal base and hummed slightly. The mages moved in. “Where did you get this, serpent?”

As the mages encircled the crystal the snakes carried out their betrayal. The Cobra signaled the hidden to attack, having received the update that the ships were indeed in the harbor. The guardians and thorns went down first, with quite a fuss, but the power of the crystal kept the mages entranced. Soon they were surrounded by the chanting of the snakes.

The strongest amongst them, the death mage, tried to break free of the grasp, but was bitten on the collarbone by the Cobra. “Now, now, we cannot disssssappoint Mu.”

As the possessing spirits were ripped from the bodies of the Circle of Thorns, a portal opened around their collapsing corpses. The portal began sucking the lifeforce of the snakes that formed a circle around it, chanting. Out from the portal stepped a lizard like foot, followed by another and another. Soon, seven reptilians stood side by side in front of the portal. Four wore the vestments of the religious sect, two wore the garb of the technocracy, and the last was dressed only in a vest.

Each sect carried their own face tattoo, in a color representing sect and rank. The Cult of Mu had arrived, and the bowing and scraping were just beginning.

Mystic Inferno dove down out of the sky in time to see the three cargo ships engaged in fighting at all ends. Standing out on the dock, coiled in a safe place, was a snakeman he thought looked familiar. He dove down and grabbed hold of the snakeman from behind, hauling it up into the air. “Treacherous serpent! There will be NO prison for your deception.”

“Wait! You helped, I will be true to my word! The spider plans an attack on the Ziggurat!” The snake cried out as it began flailing, then realized the flaw in that plan.

As the rest arrived, Mystic landed with the snake on the roof. He turned the snakeman to face him. “When? When does he plan to attack the prison?”

At just that moment, an audible boom came from the door to Brickstown. The blast doors, for the first time he could remember, began to shut.

The reptilians were making short work of Recluse’s men, who were few, to avoid detection, and lightly armed, to allow them to be concealable. After the first boat of snakes was unleashed it was all over.

The Avatar of Mu raised the bodies of the dead and sent them against his foes, the Flame of Mu burned alive all that stood in his way, and the Inquisitor moved silently among them, slaying them one at a time.

Mystic pushed the snake off the edge onto some crates below and turned to the group. “Right, we can fight them….” Mystic pointed to the reptilians freeing snakemen prisoners, then pointed through the skylight at the portal, “close that, or help them at the Zig. I’m for closing the portal and heading to the Zig. I’m not certain who the bad guys are on those boats.”

Mystic shook his head, "If only there were a way, but I don't even know where the ritual is going to be performed. I have Smurd following the sands right now. What does disturb me about all this is..."

The phone rang and Mystic turned toward the extention on the desk he was leaning against. "How coincidental." He picked it up, "Twenty sixth precinct."

"It's starting. What's worse is the Circle of Thorns knows it's starting. Someone leaked it to them, and they're coming for the Sands. I don't know if I can stop this by myself." Smurd sounded slightly worried.

"Do nothing but keep them in sight, we're on our way." Mystic hovered away from the desk. "Friends, things have taken a sudden turn for the worse. I can explain in route. Call everyone, Brian, Abrahms, everyone. We're headed to the Independence Port warhouses on the southeastern side." Mystic looked at the readout on the tracking device he'd given Smurd.

“I don’t think that wench had anything to do with grand Crey schemes, She came from the same lab I did. I didn’t even know it had any connection to Crey, but it must have. I think they just wanted their experiment – me – back. But I’ll let you be the brains and worry about all that stuff, boss.”

Mystic shook his head. “I suppose it would be better then, if I were to actually do something. If you will excuse me.”

The blue robed mage stepped out, hovering out the front door until he was high in the air on the way to Atlas Park.

Azuria was discussing important matters with junior heroes when the mage entered. She finished quickly and closed the door. “Don’t be mad with me.” Her first words caused an eyebrow to arch over a glowing eye.

“Oh, why should I be mad with you? The woman who sent me to collect all of the pieces of the Wheel of destruction that nearly got me killed is in cahoots with some band of evil lizard men, hardly reason for anger. More of a shock, or betrayal moment if you ask me.” His glowing gaze bore burning holes through her.

“I know how it seems, but there is something that I have to show you.” Azuria stepped over to a bookshelf in her office and touched the panel. The shelf moved aside, revealing a small room with a snakeman in it. Fire erupted around Mystic’s hand, but he made no motion to hurl it, it was more punctuate the moment and show his anger.

“Wait! This creature is forced into servitude by Lord Recluse. His people fight the influence of this vile overlord where he comes from. He has important information about an attack being planned on Paragon City.” Azuria stopped when Mystic laughed.

The mage held a still flaming hand out toward the snakeman, “this is supposed to be credible evidence of an attack? Who am I going to get to believe this? One of Lord Recluse’s agents, if there even IS a lord Recluse, is saying that there’s going to be an attack, and I’m supposed to get someone to listen to me. And why are you bringing ME into this?”

“I’ve spoken with those who are higher than your security clearance, but I doubt they would be receptive, and those below can’t help me. You’re the youngest Archmage I know. I need someone with your level of power.” Mystic cut her off.

“But without the benefit of experience.” The mage turned toward the snakeman, “you have information? Out with it.”

“Help uth. Firth you help uth.” The snakeman slithered forward, stopping short when Mystic raised his hands.

“What is it exactly that they want?” Alfred turned to Azuria.

“They want to summon an avatar of their god to help them throw off the oppressive chains of Lord Recluse.” She looked pleadingly at him.

“And in order to do that, they need…” He twirled his hand in mid air as if trying to unravel the mystery through gesture.

“The sands of Mu.” She looked hopefully into his luminescent eyes.

“Are you quite serious?” The mage folded his arms in disgust. “No, quite definitely no.”

“I know you kept some, and even though they’ve lost their power for you, these people can use them to free themselves from this terrible oppression.” Azuria stepped forward and took Mystic’s hand. “I’m sworn to protect this city same as you. We have a chance here to deprive Lord Recluse of an ally and possibly save the city. With Statesman gone…”

“With Statesman gone is the perfect time for us to screw up and unleash unspeakable evil on the city so that future historians can point out how he was the only competent person here. NO. I will not be party to this.” Mystic turned away in defiance.

She deflated, still holding his hand. “And if history shows that our failure to act costs lives, that when Statesman went missing, no one stepped up to fill the gap, what then?”
Her words hit home, and the archmage’s features softened. He considered it, looking over the snake man.

“I will return to you what I have kept for you, but you must swear not to give it to him, until he both divulges the information and you have counseled War Witch.” He turned his head back toward her without moving his body.

“Agreed.” And as the words escaped her lips, he reached out and pulled a small jar from mid air. Gingerly, he handed it to her. “Thank you. Thank you.”

When Mystic returned to the Two Six, he was uncertain of his actions, and sought councel with those present. ((anyone who wants in on this just be there)) "What do you think?"

"You don't think it's odd that Crey and a large insect queen showed up on our doorstep looking for you? That the Two Six was attacked by Trolls, sent to the land of the dead and invaded by Tsoo? We've been hit nearly every day that we've been here. And not by small stuff, either, they're pulling out all the stops." Mystic gestured toward the window. "Right now, out there, something is going on and I'll bet the business end of it is pointed at us, and at King's Row. You think this is business as usual, I say that's wishful thinking. I am the absolute last person to cry that the end is near. I don't think it's the end, but it is certainly unusual."

"Good morning sleepy bug. I was very worried when I saw that you didn't come to. I was afraid we'd have to pay you disability." Mystic picked up a glass and inspected it. Satisfied that it was clean, he set back down and turned back toward Exodus. "It will continue to be a pleasure having you here, Myriam. Even if only for the windows and the rats. You will have to train hard though. You spent so long not using your powers, and now we need you, full strength, full fury. A storm is coming, I fear. One that your powers cannot assuage, nor control, but with a little luck... we might be able to weather it."