Mechagogue

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Finally getting her pot of coffee, Cortianna looked at Kefetasura.

"You appologise. It was your own idea to spill it." She poored a cup even as a pair of pills floated into the room and her hand. "Don't lie to an uncontrolled telepath. Especially in the morning before I have by blockers. Too many damn loud thoughts in this house..." Chasing the pills with half her cup, Cortianna glared around the table.

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"Well, aren't you clever," Kefetasura openly mocked Cortianna in front of everyone. "I think I agree with Mr. Dispenser," he said cryptically, then turned to Tomanton with a slight pout. "And, yes, Mr. Ton. I am afraid the mood is ruined. Some people just don't know how to be civil in the morning."

"England?" Kefetasura said with a chuckle, "I wouldn't say they're all grown up, but I do think they learned a thing or two when they got themselves evicted from India. . . "

Cortianna's mental shove got his attention just then. It amused Kefetasura. Her power was potent, true, but she lacked training, discipline, and a proper willpower; Instead using the anger and angst of youth for fuel. He wondered if anyone had noticed his grin as he pretended to be pushed more forcefully than she had intended, causing him to spill his piping hot tea all over Moonscribe.

"What the..?!" he said in his best impression of offense, "Girl, you have a lot to learn about manners. I think you should apologize to Moonscribe for that! If he wasn't omniscient he might have been hurt!"

"Because, my good man, tea is the yard-stick by which a civilization can be measured." Kefetasura said with a deeply held conviction, "Just look at the Americans. . . They have forsaken tea and their culture is as hollow as a rotten tree."

The room was totally shrouded in darkness, which actually worked to Xanders advantage for two seperate and ditstinct reasons; One, his father could no longer see him. And two, Stelleshand could operate freely.

The Nictus rebel teleported Xander beside Nena, just far enough away to avoid errant sword-strikes. Xanders body imploded into the Dark Nova form, and began blasting Rikti with extreme prejudice.

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"Ancestor? To who, foo?" Rosalind laughed. "Sure, I'm almost freakin' 200 years old, but that ain't nothing to some spirits."

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Kefetasura gave a short bark of a laugh.

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"So, demon," Moonscribe said casually, walking over to Kefetasura, "how have you been? I do hope you have not devoured TOO many innocent souls. See, they have places to be. . ."

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"Eh. You know how it is, hypocrite," Kefetasura said without emotion, his attention still mostly focused on his tea, "You keep on trying to fulfill the function that they created you for, and eventually they forget. Then it's your fault that you just keep on doing your job. And, for the record, I don't devour souls. Devouring souls would be reprehensible. I just push them back into the cycle of karma and borrow the stuff they don't need anymore.

"How's the judgment business going?"

((Essex FTW! Anyone who can flip a crepe without breaking it is aces in my book ))

"You know," Kefetasura mused while watching hungrily as the crepes were prepared, "The world would be a better place if French people stayed in the kitchen and out of politics."

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Tomanton just continued to sip his tea. "I've boiled some water if anyone wants to do something with it."

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"Ooh, tea," the demon chirped happily. He helped himself to a cup of steaming water and dropped in an odd, sweet-smelling blend of spices and chai leaves. After letting it brew for a minute or so, he strained it and added some salt.

"Mmmmm, this is some good stuff," he said after his first sip.

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[Rosie]"Damn, girl, how can you make this stuff? It's like a cookie got with a lollipop and had a freakin' sugar baby. Gew. Give me meat, any day."

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The purple skinned demon laughed at that rather heartily. He held out the half thawed steak, which he had tossed rather irreverantly on the table, to Rosalind.

"You can have this one, I'm done with it."

8:25 AM was the time that Helper generally began his work for the day setting up the laboratory for the scheduled experimentation. It allowed him plenty of time before the first scientists arrived at 9:00 AM to get the lab in working order. Unless he was working at the school, in which case 8:25 was the time he had earmarked for his first comprehensive boiler diagnostic. This place didn't have a lab, and the boiler was not within his jurisdiction. Helper was faced with the unenviable position of having nothing to do.

Helper was bored.

He shuffled around the room tidying things that he had tidyed half a dozen times already. He had offered his services to Mister Tomanton, perfectly willing to make his tea for him, but the extra-terrestrial insisted upon doing it himself, despite the urgings from Kaloaten. One thing Helper had noticed was that he seemed to have earned the somewhat inaccurate nickname of 'Butlerbot.' He then reminded himself that nicknames are generally given on a basis of social acceptance, and so, for the moment, he was pleased with his ability to assimilate.

Kefetasura practically fell for how badly he stumbled around. The purple skinned demon's vibrant red hair was even more disheveled than usual. As he entered the kitchen he reached into the freezer and pulled out a steak, slapping it on the side of his head.

"This hour of the day is Kali's doing," he grumbled as he flopped into a chair by the table, "That's the only way to explain how a goddess of destruction can be worshiped as a merciful benefactress."

He looked around at the others.

"Oh, right. So, did everyone sleep ok? Or at all," he said the last somewhat quieter with a sidelong glance at Lyden and Helper.

I have this habit that I am in that's like... I dunno... proof-scanning.

I don't exactly proofread my posts very well, but I scan them for errors, tweak a little and then post. Then I read it as it appears on the forum, which usually ends up in a series of rapid edits that I leave un-marked. more often than not thaere aren't any replies that I have to worry about screwing up by altering the wording.

I guess the point is that for some odd reason the post preview is a lot harder to read than the finished post. I imagine this is purely psychological, but I am a purely logical psycho.

Xander gave only the barest hint of recognizing Nena, as he stared at the Detective.

"I'm in so much [censored]," he said in a detached voice.

Without a word or a hint of intent, Kefetasura disappeared from the poolside.

In the room he as supposed to share with Helper, Kefetasura pushed the two beds together and readyed himself for a prolonged perios of lounging and schemeing.

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Long after everyone else had settled in for the night, Helper shuffled quietly around the house. He cleaned and tidyed things up in preparation for the next day.

LR: GHOST WIDOW! How many times do I have to tell you? You have to poke little holes in the lid so the prisoners can breathe!

Seeing he had the soaked border collies undivided attention, Kefetasura heaved the foil ball with all his might to the far end of the pool. When Rosie dashed off to chase it he used a tiny bit of telekinetic power to make it 'dodge' her just a little, to enhance the thrill of the chase.

Lookie at what I found! ^_^

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Mahaf

Mahaf was the ferryman who navigates the boat provided by Aken, along the winding waters of the Underworld. he also acts as a herald announcing the arrival of the king into the presence of the sun god, Re.

Aken
Patron of the ferryboat that carries the souls of the dead to the underworld.

Appearance: A man dressed in the garb of a sailor, standing in the stern of a papyrus boat.

Description: Aken was the custodian of the ferryboat in the Underworld. However, he was somewhat amusing, for he had to be woken from slumber by the ferryman Mahaf to provide the boat for travel on the celestial waters.

Worship: Not truly worshipped, but mentioned in many hymns and passages of The Book of the Dead.

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((Aw, come on now, don't give up. I'm working my way there!))

A nameless man sat in the shadow of a dumpster in the alley behind the butcher shop. He had walked for quite some time and wanted a place to rest for a while. It was strange watching people celebrate your death, but rather an honor that it should be done with a magnificent fire.

The wind blew a crumpled leaflet down the alleyway from around the corner, and it came to rest on the nameless man's shoe. He cast his eyes down, lifted it, and spread it out flat on his knee.

"Nemesis...?" he said in a curious tone.

He crawled silently to the edge of the alley and peeked around the corner. There were two men with a soapbox extolling the virtues of enlistment into the army of Nemesis. Now that he was around the corner he could hear them very clearly. Odd. The wind howling down the alley must have drowned them out.

He stood and quietly made his way to the recruiters. The man was fairly tall, about six foot four, and had the lanky body and toned physique of a swimmer or distance runner. His black hair was shaggy and disheveled, and he as dressed like a vagrant.

To the trained eye, however, he did not move like a vagrant.

"Tell me more," he said in a dry-throated but authoritative rasp. He didn't speak like a vagrant either. His words sounded like he thought he was doing them a favor by speaking.

Baneshadow looked over the corpse in the warehouse disdainfully.

"Well," she demanded.

Death's Head Simmons nodded, handing her the wallet with Jimmy Cox' ID card.

"Mother [censored]," Baneshadow spat. A pale and boney hand smoothed down her long, midnight-colored hair. Deft fingers tightened the strings of her matte black mask, then idly stroked the upside-down blood red heart on her left cheek. Not many women made it into the Skulls. Most of them never made it beyond the dubious distinction 'girlfriend,' and fewer still ever rose to such a prominient position like 'Bone Daddy.' It gave her a certain liberty to deviate slightly from the standard uniform.

She also derived deep and profound pleasure from telling those people who thought her handle should be 'Bone Mommy' to go [censored] themselves to death.

"I dunno what coulda went wrong," Simmons said, "It was a standard purchase."

"Don't matter," Baneshadow said irritably, "All that matters is that the Family double-crossed us. Killed one of our guys. We either gotta find new supplier, or find a place to hole up till the troll's withdrawal rampage blows over. After that; Payback."

Baneshadow began to march herself out of the warehouse.

"What about the body," Simmons asked.

She stopped and glanced fom side to side.

"I think this building would make a suitable pyre for a Skull, don't you?"

Simmons chuckled with approval as they exited.

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An anonymous homeless man, who was no longer Jimmy Cox, listened from across the alley. Beneath his knitted cap, and behind his upturned coat collar, he allowed himself the luxury of a slight grin.

They bought it.

That's fine. I have fun spreading my geekdom like maneuer.

Jon MacMaetor slid in behind the Weilder and uapo, who he had started to call the Migraine Men in his mind. He hefted his shotgun to hip and scanned the room.

here was quite a few people fighting Rikti and some trapped.... Circle of Thorns?... and a cannon firing a beam into a portal. The non-Rikti looked like they were trying to break the thing.

It was a good a plan as any.

Then he caught a face in the crowd and ice ran through his veins. He reacted instinctively.

"ALEXANDER STEVEN MACMAETOR, WHAT THE HOLY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!"

Xander stopped, mid black-light blast. He looked paralyzed, stricken with panic for the first time.

"Dad...?!" he said in shocked horror.

At first Ernesto had wanted to curse himself. Turning the ringer off on his phone had been a conscious descision. If only he had left it on it would have woke him and he'd still have his job at the mechanic.

Then he had wanted to just forget bout everything. He turned his radio on. It played the last half of a Longbow recruitment ad before going right into a very happy, upbeat salsa song.

He clicked it off.

He wasn't in the mood for happy anything.

Then he put on a few layers of clothes, wrapped his thin jacket around himself, and stepped out onto the fire escape. Ernesto sat out in the cold, his head leaning on the frozen metal beams that made up the fire escape and gazed down five stories to the alley below.

At least he still had his night job. It paid a little better than the mechanic shop. Someone once told him that there was a law that made them pay you better if you have to work after midnight.

His stomach rumbled loudly.

Ernesto realized with a certain humor that he had quite simply forgotten to eat for almost a whole day. He slipped back through his window and closed it. He stepped over to his refridgerator. It was large and square, and the kind of yellow that only things that used to be white become with age. He pulled the heavy door open.

The smell that struck him was awful.

Ernesto slammed the door shut.

Apparently, the power surge that knocked out his clock and microwave had shorted out the refridgerators motor as well, and everything inside had gone bad. Ernesto shook his head in disbelief, and began carting rotten food out into the hallway to be dropped down the incinerator chute.

His task done, he took a long shower and went back to bed. One thing he learned growing up; If you have nothing to eat, sleeping will help you to not be so hungry.

The purple demon sulked for a moment. He pondered using his first vote on Hal, but with his attitude he was pretty much going to get himself canned.

He perked right up when he saw the happy dog at the edge of the pool. Kefetasura paddled himself to the edge, hopped out and sat, his feet still making lazy circles in the water. He summoned up the empty foil wrapper fom his potatoes, wadded them up into a tight little ball and waved it in Rosie's general direction.

"Puppy wanna play?" he asked in his most enthusiastic 'talkin-to-the-doggie' voice.

Jimmy stalked around the warehouse, stomping and cursing. There was no way he could go back to the Skulls without the 'dyne that he was supposed to pick up. They'd feed him to the trolls, or worse.

Someone was going to have to die for this. That's just the way it was, Jimmy was smart enough to realize that.

He heard the sound of gunshots, and it gave him an idea.

Jimmy went into the alley, found a homeless man, and beat him unconscious. Then he dragged the man into the warehouse, stole his clothes, and dressed him in the Skulls uniform. Then he drew his gun and waited. As soon as he heard another eruption of gunfire he shot. Two in the chest, one in the head.

Family-style.

Then he dropped the gun on the dead man's chest. So what if they traced it back to Jimmy Cox? Jimmy Cox was dead. He pulled the cash from his wallet and dropped that on the dead man too. There wasn't enough of his face left to identify anyway. Except maybe by his teeth...

Like anyone in the Edge was gonna call the cops!

It was time to not be there anymore. He walked out of the warehouse. He was no longer Jimmy Cox.

Jimmy Cox was dead.

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Atenakh. . . or something. . .

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Uhm... Sounds like this might be intended to be Akhenaten, who was a pharoah, not a god. The god, in that case, would be Atum, who would notably be the first established 'one-god' system. Akhenaten was the pharoah who converted the empire to this monotheism.

However, if that is the case he probably wouldn't be too popular, since all the temples of Atum were destroyed/reclaimed for 'proper' gods after Akhenaten's death.

And since I am das uber-nerd, I will also include some more random facts: Akhenaten was also know as Amenhotep IV, married to the fairly famous empress Nefertiti, and was the father of Tutankhamun (of King Tut fame).

"What's wrong with women?" Kefetasura asked in a confused tone, "They made it into the top two genders!"

The short purple demon ran to the diving board, bounced at the end of it and somersaulted into the pool again.

"Are you like... shy, or something?" he asked Hal. Then he glanced slyly from side to side, leaned close to Hallucinogens ear and whispered. "Think I should teleport that Experiment guy out of his armor and into the pool?"

Which search engine do you use? I should probably take a look at these "odd photgraphs" for myself...

That's what I mean about weekends. People go out on weekends... I mean.. people other than me. =/

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HAHAHA great

speaking of school, c'mon people lets get back to superhero 101

jesus everyone jsut shut up even though they r still online, haha

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There's nothing wrong with enthusiasm, just also keep in mind that sometimes, until everyone catches up, there's not much to do. The boards do have a sorta pace about them. People finish their scenes and wait for others to finsh what their doing before a GM or something says it's time to move on.

That pace kinda shifts during weekdays vs weekends.

It's hard to notice it at first, but you get used to it. I think that's why most people juggle like 5 or 6, even 10+, rp's. Notice a brand new (Open) one go up? Throw yourself in it. As many stories as you can keep straight in your head, just go for it!