Paradigm_Shift

[ QUOTE ]
"Retcon," Shioh said, he lips curling up in a smile.

[/ QUOTE ]

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAThat was a horrible joke.HAHAHAHAHAHA...Say, you're cute. You'd make a good teddy bear. ^.^"

OOC:

Think we should wait for the others now.

[ QUOTE ]
The arrival of the man carrying the teddy bear again distracted Shioh, and she thought of her favorite joke.
"Knock knock."

[/ QUOTE ]

"Who's there?" The man asked in a sing-song voice.

And that's when a man with a pure white tuxedo pulled in from a dash that would have shamed a super-speeder, grinding to a halt in front of the two men and Shioh. He has a pleasently forgettable face with oiled blond hair.

He was also carrying a tannish brown teddy bear.

"Hai. ^.^" He said. "Would any of you happen to know any good jokes? It's important."

"I'm sorry...Could you read that off again? I do believe I misheard you." Said a pleasently distant voice.

It was one of the many grand suites of the cruise liner, and a very befuddled paige was trying to deliver a message to its occupant. A strange man-but the paige wasn't one to question. This was the meta-human age, after all.

"Err. My apologies Mr. Erik. It says here that you are cordially invited to the Masquerade Ball in hall eighteen later this week, that it will be filled with delights and astounding visions that you are guaranteed to love…”

Before the page could react, he was grabbed by the throat and yanked into the suite.

"YOU DO NOT SAY THAT WORD." The occupant hissed. The paige smelled immense amounts of perfume that made him dozy, even suspended above the floor...Or was that just the air deprevation? He was faintly aware of the door snapping shut, casting the room in complete darkness. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off. The only lines of light were the giant, bloody tears running down the pearly face in front of him.

"I will have mercy. But you will say it correctly. Or you will die." Tears rolled down the poor, doomed paige's face as the ornate invitation was shoved under his nose once again.

"Say it." The distant voice beckoned.

Blubbering, sputting for air, the paige gasped out the message. "You are cordially...invited to...the Masquerade ball in...hall eighteen...later this week, that...it will be filled...with delights...and astounding visions...that you are guaranteed...to lo-"

"No." The voice said coldly.

"uuuuuh-"

"NO."

"vu..."

The paige stared into those brilliant ruby tears and choked out a different word entirely, his tongue twisting before he could finish almost of its own accord. "...Loyalty."

"Much better. That took you a couple of tries though. You will die." The paige's eyes widened. And then there was only the darkness, and those awful bloody tears.

***

"And I loy you so Mr. dolly doll!" A grow man wearing a white tux, with a cheerfully blank and instantly forgettable face was walking down the deck, tossing a tannish brown teddy bear up and down in the air as he walked. "And I loy you so much I'm going to hwug you and sqweeze you until you be tiny wittle bits."

"I think it's so cute I could just eat him up." Said a rather similar man in a grey tux.

"Speaking of which, I think we should stop by the kitchens and see what everyone will be having for dinner." Said the final member of the trio, yet another nearly identical man save for the color of his suit-midnight black.

"Later." Thre grey-suited man said. "That's strictly business there, that is. We were told to ENJOY ourselves."

"And I am. I loy my wittle red cap." The white suited man said, nibbling on the ear of his teddy bear.

"And what am I supposed to do? Sing that song with the coconuts in it?" The dark suited man asked the other two with a slight trace of anger in his voice.

"People don't actually sing that song." The man in the grey suit said. "If you're feeling anxious, I'd suggest...tennis? This monstrosity has a few courts on it, I believe.'

"Tennis." The dark suited man repeated, his voice flat and dull.

"Oh yes, it's QUITE exciting." The grey suited man said, nudging his darker compatriot with an elbow. "Just be careful that you don't go and hurt somebody by accident. Bound to happen one of these days, I swear. All these high velocity sports."

"Say, that actually sounds like a good idea. I'll see you two before dinner." The man in the midnight black suit said, turning and heading for the nearest door back inside.

"By the way, Grey..." The man in the white tux said in a low whisper. "What kinda jokes do posh people use?"

"What? Oh!" The grey man said, startled from his staring back at all the people staring at them. "Use...classy jokes. Political ones are good, I think."

"Really?" The white man said, patting his teddy bear absent mindedly on the head. "Like what?

"Like..." The man with his grey suit froze, trying to think of a good joke on the spot while simultaneously wondering why the hell the narrator hadn't assigned them names yet. "Like...uh...ok, here's one. Bear with me." He cleared his throat.

"Say my good fellow, do you know what's funny?" He asked in an overly cheery tone.

"What would that be?" The white suited man asked.

"Poor people." The grey suited man said proudly.

There was silence as the two walked down the deck.

"I don't know." The man in white said. "That seems in awfully poor taste there. Don't you awgwee, Mr. dolly? You should know what's tasty. CAUSE YOU ARE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"Shut up." The grey man said bitterly, wondering how many teddy bears he could eat when the time came.

"BUT I DON' WANNA!" The man in the white tux shouted, drawing several stares and causing several people to hurry away. "Oh look, Japanese people. Are there any good jokes about them?"

"Shut. Up." The grey suited man said, smiling a very forgettable smile and waving a bit to the passerby, as if to assure them they were not at all freaks of nature.

"Let's find out!" The white suited man said excitedly, zipping off like a blur on a crash course for the two men and the strange girl who had just started speaking with them.

OOC:

I think some of us would appreciate more details about the setting. How large is this boat? We know its advanced and right off the line, but it'll be overbearingly constricting if it's too small. Who built it would also be a nice detail. Where did it depart from? Where's it headed?

OOC:

While I admit this is a very interesting and refreshingly creative form of RP, this would very quickly become complicated and more trouble than its worth. Mapping out simple conversations and interactions with other characters will be a complete nightmare.

Don't get me wrong, this will be wonderful if you can pull it off. Just seems a little mind-boggling to me.

Right you are, Plan 9 from Outer Space. In the meantime, I have an idea. I know that every once in a while you do an RP spotlight article for the city scoop. Would it be possible to make the next one about the Coop Story Project? I'd think we'd have more success if we had a short article closer to the top that catches the eye more easily. Course, that's only a suggestion.

Para-Bwerp. ^.^ That's right people...BWERP FROM ABOVE!

And nah Corsage, it's not you. Yesee, there was this person called Essex and her personal shadow stalking slave called Hallucinogin, this guy called Drarkitylordshadowstuffsomething, and a particularly odious and repugnant fellow called In Your Dreams. Apparently Sovs hated Essex and Essex hated the direction RP in the forums was going in, so she left and Hall left with her. Darkitysomeonewhowasheagain vanished with zero explanation. Don't know much about him. The guy called In Your Freems I didn't know much about either, but he seemed rather arrogent really. All his writing seemed condescending and stuff. He probaby did a lot more from the way people talk about him. He left due to real life hassles, I think.

And when you think about how small OUR little RP group is, losing four members is kinda a blow. I mean, there's the whitmoore group, but they seem to be in a different universe than us. Heck, I bet they don't even know this thread and its twin even exist.

But you bring up a very good point there Corsage. I myself have immense trouble trying to focus less on my characters and more on the story and background. I have to constantly remind myself that It's not all about THEM, it's about the story. What we lack is writers who are balanced, who don't specialize too much.

Thankfully, Grey went and posted an ad in the City Scoop. Perhaps we'll gain some more members soon.

Well. Some people just don't care. They have more important things to do, apparently, or blah blah blah. They probably did not get my "APATHY IS DEATH!!!" PMs.

Other people, like Krazy and Yosef, were abducted by aliens mid-story. Ironically, this was started because people had been abducted by aliens.

Finally, we lack publicity outside of this forum. Really, go anywhere and the general opinion is, "Lol RP."

Written with Corsage, starring the deadly and icy Arctic Amazon, and the mysterious Masquerade. Part 1/3

[u]A Cold Acquaintance[u]

A ball. Yes, that’s what it was. A Masquerade Ball to be precise. Sadly enough, there were only eight attendees. And only one of them was real.

“Levi Baker. I would like to hear your thoughts.” Three voices spoke. One high and feminine, one low and masculine, the last a perfect balance between the two. The speaker was a Shivan Decimator.

“A regenerator. Nigh indestructible even after being shot, caught in the epicenter of several high-magnitude explosions, thrown through two reinforced walls, crushed by a nine ton slab of steel, and enduring a ten story fall.” Said a Malta Gunslinger in a calm, civilized voice.

“Slightly insane. Bloodthirsty. Chaotic. Skilled. Warrior’s spirit.” Said a Freakshow Tank, spitting and snarling more than speaking.

The Legacy Chain Radiant and the Unseelie Court Hell Rider remained silent. A Ring mistress of the Carnival of Shadows laughed softly and copied the various shifts in movement of the Shivan.

“Overall…An excellent candidate…But not worth the time and effort.” Said a Cabal Sorceress. “Parasitic Empathy isn’t an option due to his healing speed. His mind is a maze of mirrors. Too difficult to navigate before he recovers.”

“How disappointing. I would appreciate it if the Light Masque would keep an eye on him, and inform us if he dies. He would be quite useful then.” The Shivan spoke again in its odd voice. “In the meantime, we must find a candidate immediately. I believe you saw the True Pillar, Ether Masque?”

“That I did.” The Ring Mistress cooed. “The hypocrite is already here.”

“Then we need to time this perfectly for the next sweep.” The Shivan declared. “Black Masque. Who am I?”

The Freakshow Tank mulled over this question for a few moments before answering: “Arctic Amazon.”

***

High in the skies above St. Martial, a star arced through the air to vanish at the horizon. Trouble was brewing…

***

She paused in her carefree and aimless pacing as she caught a glimps of herself in the full length mirror that adorned the western wall in her spacious living room. She was rapt with the vision that stared back at her. It was the Arctic Amazon, successful super villain and unearthly beauty. Her vanity smiled back at her.

“Hello? You still there?”

She snapped out of her mild trance as she realized that her right hand was still holding her cell phone to her ear.

“Oh, yea,” she responded, “Just, uh, admiring my view.”

“Don’t rub it in,” the young woman’s voice spoke, “I’m living in a giant submarine that smells like feet.”

Arctic Amazon prowled over to her couch. It was white like most of her things and was accompanied by a pearl coffee table. Contrasting the décor was a small brown satchel resting unzipped on the surface.

“Oh, sweetie. You’re young. You have plenty of time to get rich and conquer the world.”

The sound of an explosion suddenly erupted from the floor below, vibrating Arctic’s apartment slightly.

“What was that?” Corsage asked.

Arctic Amazon sighed as she heard gunfire on the lower levels as well.

“A grenade. I think I’m under attack.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“I got security. They should be able to handle it.”

As she spoke, the sultry super villain opened the brown bag. She retrieved a rubber tube, a syringe and a vial of morphine and laid them neatly on the table in front of her. Suddenly, her call waiting signal beeped rudely in her ear.

“Hold on Corsage,” she said and switched calls, “What?”

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” the new voice spoke, “But the Tenemen have invaded. They’ve breached the compound. I don’t think we can hold them.”

“The Tenemen? You’re losing to the freakin’ Tenemen? Are you kidding?”

“They’re all over the place!”

To punctuate that statement another grenade blast rocked the area and the automatic weapons suddenly sounded much closer.

Arctic Amazon fumed, “Fine. I’ll be right there. Oh, Clarissa? If you’re not dead by the time I get there, consider yourself fired.”

She switched back to Corsage then cradled her phone between her head and shoulder.

“Sorry, girl. I gotta go deal with this. Call you later?”

Arctic peeled back her long glove revealing bruised and punctured veins. She picked up the syringe.

“Is it serious?” Corsage asked.

“Not really,” she replied and flicked off the plastic tip with her thumb, “I’ll cope.”

***

“This place is filthy. Isn’t St. Martial supposed to be clean?” Complained a muffled voice amidst the mayhem below.

“We need to find a good view-point. Ether, you have our mask?” Said another muffled voice, anyone listening closely would have pinpointed the source near an empty corner.

“Yes, I do.” Said a third voice. “Black, find the contact and observe. White, you’re on containment duty. Once the last thug is inside, I don’t want anything to get out or in. Grey, I’ll ne-“

“Hey cake dream,” a rough voice fourth interrupted the third, “Think you’re elaborate plan just went kaput. I present Exhibit Freem.”

One of the thug’s radios suddenly started to squawk. A panicked and rushed voice screamed out of it, “She’s in corridor B next to the stairw-“ Before being cut off.

***

’So strange, this. Why do I rush? Surely there is no danger. This is a large risk. A large and bold step into the unknown. I know nothing about this actor. All I have are the assurances of my lower servant. What should happen, if…? No. That cannot happen. Everything shall go just according to plan.

I do so hate…

Unpleasant surprises…’

***

Her private sanctuary rested atop a three story office building. The second floor, the one that was now swarming with invaders, was much less impressive. It was primarily housing for her minions, most of them cast off carnies or Freakshow. The walls were spray painted and the carpets were stained and burnt in places. It was a dump, but it was her dump. Arctic Amazon stormed down the stairs determined to make examples of all of the uninvited guests.

She saw the front wave in the hall. There were four of them. They were finishing off some of her henchmen and rifling through their pockets like vultures. She took a moment to settle her indignant rage. It would be crass to charge in screaming. Emotional outbursts were for weak and petty humans. In the mind of Arctic Amazon she was a goddess and her wrath would be dealt out cold.

She identified the leader and immediately froze him in a block of ice from the waist down. He tried to shout to his followers, but barely could make a sound. His lips turned blue and he was in shock before they realized what was happening.

Arctic Amazon stalked casually forward and formed an ice spear from the water molecules in the air. She held it out like a javelin as she approached the next Teneman. He saw her and fumbled for the radio in his belt. The other two caught on and raised their sub machine guns. With the same intensity one might stroke a kitten, Arctic raised her hand and summoned a gale of freezing wind. It slammed into those two and sent them flying down the corridor. Bones cracked as they collided with the far wall. The one with the radio pulled it up to his quivering lips.

“She’s here!” he shrieked, “She’s in corridor B next to the stairw-“

She plunged her spear into his chest. He dropped his radio and stared with awe at her with his dying gaze. The Arctic Amazon grinned.

“Thank you,” she told him, “Saves me trouble of having to track down all the vermin.”

She dissipated the spear and the Teneman punk collapsed wheezing and bleeding onto the floor. She caught her reflection in a glass door to her right. With a few moments before the next wave arrived she took the time to fix her hair and straighten her tiara. She owed it to her foes to look her best. After all, she was the last thing they would ever see.

***

In the end, it was she who was chasing them. The final two members of the Tenemen assault team died in the women’s restroom. One had the indignity of having his head frozen in a toilet, while the last one had the honor of having his neck broken in the gloved hands of the icy beauty. She dropped the ragdoll that mere moments ago had been living and walked back into the hallway. There was always an intangible but ever-present odor that lurked on the lower level restrooms and she did not want it to linger in her magnificent attire.

As she strolled through the path of dead and beaten henchmen from both sides of the conflict she wondered how the Tenemen – who were nothing but street thugs working for the Slumlord – managed to bypass the traps on the first floor. An insider helping them out was the most likely answer. She decided to find Clarissa to see if she was still alive enough to torture to death. Only the two of them knew the codes to deactivate the devices. She scanned the bodies on the ground looking for her naughty employee as she headed back towards the stairs. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks.

Someone was still here. Not one of hers. She could sense the presence of someone or something lurking just out of her peripheral vision.

“Whoever you are, you had best be ready to talk,” she said in an even tone, “For when I turn around I have had better heard your entire life story. I must know the reason a fool like you would dare to linger in my private headquarters after more than a dozen of your friends died so painfully only moments ago at my hands. Paint me a picture of sadness and retardation and maybe I will not pull out your bowels.”

She paused a moment before continuing.

“Ready? Here we go.”

Arctic Amazon turned around.

There were three figures. A glowing and radiant man in a white tux, wearing a hood that obscured his face with pure brilliance. A rather plain-if one could use that word-grey ninja, his face swathed in cloth. Finally, a dark and menacing figure in dark rags and sinister leather, complete with a bloody brilliance that shrouded the face behind his hood.

The man in the tux was babbling incoherently. “Ijustcameintobeing
twodaysagoohwoeismeIhaven’t doneanythingyetexceptstandaround
andhelpstopabankrobberywithsome
randomheroandIdon’thaveabowltract
butohpleasegoddon’thurtme.”

“Black, settle him down. I’ll explain.” The Ninja said coolly before addressing Arctic Amazon. “We apologize for the intrusion. We arrived not a few moments ago. The door was open, we assumed nobody was present. We had and have no intention of staying. We were just looking for something that we were correct in thinking was located here.”

All of this was entirely true. If not misleading.

Virtue. Really, this question is asked so much there needs to be a sticked post saying it...

Mind you, Protector also has a fair RP crowd. Nowhere near as massive a one, but still good all things considered.

Statesman. Not only a great gero, but a gigantic [censored] as well. Good luck making him look good, Bluebattler. I wish you luck.

Masquerade has fun with quotes and his bloody sense of humor.

"Oh, how I love the Earth and everything in it, life and death. And men. One can think of nothing finer, or nicer, than men and their wars, their concentration camps, their justice."

Cynic too, being the fine genocidal zeaous knight templar that he is, enjoys some pitch black humor. And quotes.

"The Greatest Happiness is to scatter your enemy and drive him before you. To see his cities reduced to ashes. To see those who love him shrouded and in tears. And to gather to your bosom his wives and daughters."

Me and corsage are working on something, actually. Might take a while though. Immense patience is asked of you. If you wait, there will be cake...

OOC:

Check again, Krazy. My soul transfer blasted your bots as well. Just because they aren't alive doesn't mean they aren't susceptible.

The gathering of dark energy reached its apex and was unleashed.

Jake, his bots, the zombies, the Arachnos troops, the Arbiter...everyone who was not a knife or Malta was blasted before they cold react. The wave of energy blew through every defense-Including Jake's personal forcefield-paralyzing nerves, freezing vital muscles, and killing off more than a few brain cells. The sheer magnitude of the soul transfer wold have knocked out an elephant and better.

And in the center of it all, Silver Meniscus arose. Brimming with stolen life-force, she had more than she could actually use, so the surplus was diverted into a powerful shell that would make her invulnerable for around 20 seconds before vanishing. Not that it mattered, because she had 0 intentions of letting any of her opponents live through the next 10 seconds. Taking a death-leap at the Arbiter, she rammed another grasp of darkness, pitch as midnight, at the fault in his armor.

The 3 remaining Hands of Artemis, after making sure their sister's medi-port had kicked in, all descended on Jake with headsplitting techniques, while the rest of the knives fell upon the medical platforms which they started to dismantle.

It needs more cowbell.

Hey all.

My partner, Acanous, has been abducted by aliens. I am looking for a new partner, and/or another partner in the event that he is released from the grasp of our alien overlords.

OOC:

Well then POST already. Beat on Mr. Sandbag with pain flames and wrath.

[ QUOTE ]
[OOC: If need be, Mortanis can be the new "super bad dude" for you'll to fight. He wants you dead. Simple, right?]

[/ QUOTE ]

OOC:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA^!!!!!

OOC:

Technically the Hellions could be level 5000789 and it wouldn't make a lick of difference. I have come to believe in the asumption that any NPC encountered, despite game reputation, is always of equal level to the player. Even if that NPC is a hellion. These hellions con normally to the decoy as if they were the level of Masquerade.

So really, the only edge White Masque has is that it can't be-oops. :3

BIC:

OOC:

What about the new MoG?

I mean, yea, otherwise I completely agree with you.

Bullets hit, flame seared, darkness did whatever darkness did. The radiant White Masque took it all in. "Can I have seconds?" He asked gleefully. There wasn't a single mark or wound on him, flattened bullets clattering to the ground all around him. White Masque turned and spotted the Grave Knights coming closer.

"YAY!!!!!!! SWORD FIGHT " He yelled, leaping at them, bringing his icy sword crashing down on the nearest.

OOC:

Nope. If a power does it in-game, it does that in RP as well. The only downside to be considered is friendly fire, which is easy enough to just write out via empathetic targetting or something.

Dark armor users with soul transfer rock the casbah for this reason.

OOC:

I would suggest reading the first 3 stories posted here. They don't explain everything, but you should get the gist of it.