Paradigm_Shift

OOC: I think the bubble prevents all physical attempts to get past it by attacking anything that tries, but unconventional methods like teleporting and phase shifting through it are still viable I think. ALL of Paragon, with the possible exception of Siren's Call, is engulfed. It is concentrated specifically around Astoria for unknown reasons, and I believe we are all in the King's Row warehouse district.

"You can't escape!" White Masque shouted after the retreating suit. The suit caught a visual of him reaching forward with a fist, and clenching it, right before exiting the building.

Then, for some odd reason, the suit was back inside the building again. White Masque had teleported it! Even now, he was bearing down with his icy blade...

OOC: It's rude when just two or three people hyper-post in reaction to situations only around their characters. It leaves other people behind in the dust, and makes 0 temporal sense. That, and I doubt people want to go and read through a thousand posts all about one fight, trying to pick up solitary posts relating to them in between and so forth.

It's just more convenient for everybody involved if we take care with our posting speed.

BIC:

OOC: Last post, then we should wait for others before going on.

BIC:

Reaga found his shots hit dead on! They hit White Masque all over his body, shooting past the folds of his white cloak easily.

Nothing happened. There wasn't even the sound of the bullets hitting. They all fell to the ground, all completely flattened from the force of impact. The white figure didn't even flinch. As Reaga made his offer, he was met by a surprisingly dark chuckle that did not suit the radiant figure before him.

"My oh my...You really are just not grasping the situation here, are you? If you still think you can leave this place alive, you are sorely mistaken. I assure you that escape is quite impossible. There will be no negotiation unless you can come up with something tangible! Mask of Purity! Reject Artifice!"

A million, million alarms suddenly went off inside Reaga's suit as they all began to critically malfunction. One by one, each and every component, system, and part of the suit either shut down, became reconfigured, or simply turned on the owner.

But there was something that Reaga recognized about this. From the very few remaining functions of his suit he still controlled, he determined that his suit's advanced workings had just had thier perception of the world around them changed, thus resulting in the huge amount of chaos. They were being confused by whatever White Masque had just used! This was a popular trick amongst psionic and various other types of controller supers, but this didn't fit!

White Masque was wielding an icy blade with considerable skill, and as Reaga's attacks had demonstrated, he appeared to have extremely strong defenses as well. The way Masque was fighting was almost as if he was some kind of wierd controller/tanker hybrid. Which was entirely impossible.

This impossibility was further compounded when Masque followed up his attack by throwing a shard of lethal ice at Reaga up in the air. What the heck was going on?

"Oh don't worry." White Masque chuckled. "Your little toy is still fully functional. If anyone will be paying for its destruction..."

The spiderling suddenly leapt forward, clamped onto Reaga's leg, and started to claw and drill its way into it!

"That person will be you. IF you survive, let alone escape, you may attempt to collect your due." White Masque said. With a flash of white, his right arm emerged from his cloak, a large and icy sword emerging from it. He charged, disregarding entirely that Reaga already had his gun aimed at him.

Disredarging? Or just ignoring?

As White Masque followed the spiderling, he briefly recalled his own tales as well. He had been born 6 minutes and 23 seconds ago. He even remembered WHERE! It had been right in the splat-middle of the warehouse! The first word he had said was 'errr...' The first person he had ever seen was Pure. White Masque felt very pleased with himself. He'd led a very good life up to this point. There were rules, but they were incredibly easy to not break!

It would be a shame when the game was up. Still, best make what he could of it.

***

Reaga suddenly spotted one of his spiderlings rushing around the corner, zipping across the floor, and stopping at his feet.

Then he saw White Masque. The spectre glided noiselessly around the corner, and turned to face the villain. He didn't show up on either the density OR the air frequency readings. Aside from the fact that he was in plain view, he was right THERE in front of Reaga.

"And who would you be?" White Masque asked, his voice high-flown and almost angelic. The radiance that surrounded his body was unusually dull, his cloak seemed just like normal cloth-But his face was still entirely blocked from view by a surprisingly bright brilliance that hovered in front of the figure's hood.

"Too much noise..." White Masque growled, his high-flown voice suddenly replaced with menace. "I hate this plane...Can everybody just shut up for a moment while we-" White Masque stopped mid-sentence and watched as the small spiderling crawled under the door, ran along the side of the room, up the wall, and tried to appear inconspicuous. There were no shadows in the room thanks to White Masque's little trick he had just pulled. Trying to hide anywhere using the natural lighting wasn't going to work for another few minutes, until whatever White Masque had done wore off.

Masque tuned everything else out for a moment. Either the others had seen the spiderling or they hadn't. In either case, things were just a tad too confusing right now. He'd have to take things into his own hands and wait while they sorted themselves out.

"Mask of purity. Reject artifice." He whispered softly.

Reaga's connection with his spiderling was suddenly cut off, and roaring static replaced the image that had been there before. Back in the actual warehouse, the spiderling hadn't reacted at all. It still sat on the wall.

"I'm going out for a while. Feeling a bit light-headed." White Masque said to the group suddenly. "Go on ahead, I'll catch up." He then vanished into thin air.

***

He reappeared outside. This was a welcome diversion, truth be told. Things were just too tangled up right now. He'd let everybody calm down and sort everything out while he took care of their observer. By the time he returned, they should have sorted everything out and things could get moving.

Now was the time for the hunt.

The spiderling within the warehouse suddenly vanished, reappearing in front of White Masque outside. It had been shunted from one spot to another instantly, so perhaps Masque was a teleporter?

"Mask of reason. Expose deception." The radiant figure muttered again.

The spiderling moved! In a very specific direction. White Masque followed it calmly, gliding noiselessly across the ground after it. Within moments, the spiderling would return to the warehouse Reaga was hiding in, with White Masque right behind!

But so what? From what had been observed, this guy was purely empathetic. That and he could make pretty lights, easily rendered useless by a good visor. *Which Reaga probably had.* True, the villain didn't KNOW that yet, but perhaps this situation could turn out in his favor?

OOC: Nay, I count 5. Pure, Goth, White Masque, IQ, and Wonederful. It's only 6 if Reaga is a hero. Also, White Masque wouldn't show up on thermal, which brings the count down to 4.

BIC:

"I'm sure there are no more minions of the miasma here, else the light would have driven them off." White Masque answered Pure. "Now really people, we should-" He was interupted by IQ's outburst.

"Oh for...There's no need for that!" Masque cried out, gliding towards the doctor, as if to stop him. Too late, the telekinetic barrel already well on its way. IQ had just unwittingly made himself a sitting duck! If the marksman had moved from his original location, it would be all too easy to put a bullet through the man's eye as it peered through the crack in the wall.

"Not gone. Grace can only repel darkness, destroying it outright is something else." White Masque said in a worried voice. He pointed to the nearest corner of the room, and then something odd pointed itself out.

There were no longer any shadows in the room. The flash had chased all of them away. But there was just the faintest flicker of darkness seeping back into position from all around.

"We're safe for the moment, it takes a few minutes for that little trick to wear off, and darkness cannot exist while it lasts. I suggest we take this opprotunity to move." White Masque declared, treating Wonederful with an odd look, but otherwise ignoring him. *Although it was hard to tell, as it was impossible to see Masque's face.*

He paused, before turning back to Goth and asking, "Wait, what was that about a shot?"

OOC: I thought we were INSIDE? In a giant warehouse? And wasn't everybody already within five feet of the miasma minion before Wonederful and Reaga jumped in? And what just happened?

And the light was white, not green. >.>

BIC:

White Masque had reacted instantly, the moment the woman had moved threateningly.

"MASK OF GRACE! REPEL DARKNESS!" He roared suddenly, turning about to face the two with frightening speed. That probably wasn't noticed though, because he had also simultaneously erupted in a flash of blinding white light. The light blazed in every direction like an explosion, obliterating shadow and scouring darkness. The woman found an enormous wall of holding, blinding light screaming at her. It couldn't actually hurt her, as such. It was only light, and it wasn't concentrated enough to produce a laser. Even then, at that size and shape, the cohesion would have been terrible. But the explosion of light, should the woman allow herself to be hit, would most definitely completely dazzle her, leaving the minion unable to move or react in any way. After all, just because it wasn't focused enough light to generate intense heat didn't mean it wasn't SPECIAL light.

To IQ and Pure, however, the explosion of blinding light was merely a soft glow that was completely harmless. It appeared their new friend had a 'friendly fire' option.

"I believe so." White Masque said in response to Goth's question. "As far as food goes, as long as I have physically seen it before, I can conjure it." White Masque reached back into his cloak once more, and after some rummaging, brought forth a cornucopia. "Behold!" He said triumphantly. "Squash!"

On command, a large and fat squash rocketed from the depths of the thing with a large *pootwang* and exploded against the far wall.

"Food is taken care of with this." He said in his high-flown voice, which went hand-in-hand with smugness. "But I'm afraid I can't do anything to fortify this place if the miasma can move through space and matter on a higher scale. I think it would be to our benefit if we could go to Atlas park, and salvage something from the M.A.G.I. vaults that we can use to fight the miasma, or at least hold it back. In any case, we're sitting ducks unless we have anything we can use to combat it, regardless of where we are. I don't think physically blocking the miasma or its minions would accomplish much."

"That's not ironic, it's iconic. The same thing happened last Thursday." White Masque chuckled at IQ. "To answer your hope there...No, the Rogue Isle has been affected by the miasma, but to a lesser degree than Paragon city. The only reason Recluse hasn't leapt in to ravage us is because he knows when not to play with fire. I cannot speak for any of his 'destined ones' though."

He looked to Goth as she removed her makeup. There was a slight ruffling of his cloak, and a white arm emerged with a black mask in hand, which he offered to her. It had gothic etchings on it, similar to the ones she had recently worn.

"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Em-...Goth. For your comfort, if you wish." He said politely, stuttering slightly mid-sentence for some reason.

"Why, I come from where I was previously. To say, I came from the door." White Masque said in his high-flown voice, sounding less timid now. There was a hint of joy and humor to replace all anxiety. He stood as he said this, although 'stood' wasn't really the right word for it.

"As far as the miasma goes, I have reached two conclusions. This miasma is capable of simply destroying everything it touches, or twisting and perverting it. Its presence distorts meaning. It is also capable of changing both space and matter over distance, for use of travel by itself and its minions.
"Which would mean it is either a fragmented and shattered shard of a higher plane that has fallen to this one...OR...It is a being who can manipulate reality itself. The former doesn't make any sense because we wouldn't wind up with this miasma. Shattered pieces of higher planes do not go around spreading and creating more minions. They are set in size and function. Additionally, it would be entirely too easy to simply close or seal the shard, it would have never been a major threat. I cannot rule that out though, so it is still an option. Next to what I personally believe it to be. The latter. A being who can manipulate our realm like a sculpter molding clay. From what I have seen, it could even be a mastermind, for this miasma seems to have minions who do its bidding."

The miasma was strong. VERY strong. The strong conquer the weak and inspire fear.

And attract attention. Lots of it. Something in the darkness went 'bump' and threads began to unravel.

***

Having fled from that which could have been, one of four is still true. I CREEP through the darkness of this world. This miasma. A monument of all their sins. I have seen and listened through matter and space and time. The face of Tragedy looms. Now the matter is GONE and insubstantial. Now the space is CLOSED and irrelevant. All that is left is time. And as time passes, so does the story. It is time for a new act.

Tragedy. Your story must wait. For you are the TRUE end behind the curtain to all stories, and this is not the end. When the end comes about, it will surely be my doing. Only THEN will I wear your face. This…miasma…must be dealt with. Oh yes, it cannot be allowed to exist. I sense it, and how familiar! Like the first ones! Be there JUST enough of the unknown that I dare not clash! No, I will not allow this to happen. I will not be STOLEN from.

For now it is the time for COMEDY. The time for joy and passion and, most importantly, VICTORY. Yes, COMEDY will cleanse. COMEDY will heal. COMEDY will be the salvation of this place.

But alas! This Masquerade cannot proceed without dancers to wear the masks that are the cast of our story! Who can I use? AHA! So early into our tale and already black-eyed fate has given me excellent actors! We have the protagonist and his allies! Well now, we cannot have this! The light is being extinguished in the dark? The path is hidden and concealed? I. THINK. NOT.

It is time for the Masquerade to begin…!

***

"Er, pardon me..." Said a high-flown but slightly timid voice. "But I couldn't help but overhearing, and..."
The man, cloaked in radiance, appeared from thin air! "If you need assistance against this miasma, as you called it, I am willing to aid you in your fight against it. I am an expert in medical techniques, and I am quite empathetic. Allow me..."

The figure seemed to glide through the space between himself and Emma almost instantly, kneeling down beside her and the doctor. IQ immediately felt stronger-Not just physically, but mentally as well. He felt as if things could, just possibly, turn out all right. As if things would all turn out for the better. Hopeful, to say the least. He also instinctively knew that he could probably lift the heaviest of objects, run the greatest of distances, and use the most draining of his powers without exaustion. He felt re-energized, renewed, invigorated. This man-whoever he was-appeared to be able to bolster and buff those around them just by being close by! As if that wasn't enough to make him seem miraculous, every wound Emma had suddenly and noiselessly vanished, and the pains and worries of the world were driven away.

"I am called White Masque by those who know me." The man said pleasantly. "Would any of you object if I were to join your small force here...?"

OOC: *Cough cough*

Just thought I'd throw in my two cents here.

These aren’t the 'updated' drones. These are standard Arbiter Drones. You can find them at any major Arachnos installation. The drones you are possibly thinking about are the normal drones, which are black as opposed to silver and blue.

The drones that are chasing you are the kind you can find in PvP zones and so forth. The kind that will shoot through anything and ignore the one shot code, and WILL kill you in one hit. They are also completely invincible, and just from personally experience, it is impossible to even damage them. Attacks that aren’t completely invalid, dodged, or deflected simply register as 'unaffected.' If these drones catch you, you will die. It is as simple as that.

/e sarcasm

And back stories are FINE. But you have to realize no matter how much sparkle you throw into it, that doesn't directly make your character instantly powerful enough to tackle any given incoming threat. Ex: Council AV Archon? Telekinetic shielding. Psychic enemy? Chaos energy and absorption powers. Ghost Widow? One-shotting auto-hitting smack-down on the entirety of Arachnos. Arbiters + Drones? Now it turns out Cry has an alternate dimension where he is a god and can negate anything thrown at him.

/e sarcasm end

And it's not just you either, M.

Seriously people, what the [censored] do you think this is? I'm in a good mood right now. Which means I can suspend disbelief for an incredible amount of time, for an incredible amount of stuff. But even now, at this moment, my patience is wearing extremely thin. The point of a thread ISN'T to 'win.' Winning ENDS THE THREAD, which isn't the point. A thread, or a story, is supposed to go on for an indefinite period of time. If all everyone does is spend the entire time making their characters more and more powerful, bit by bit, megajoule by megajoule, we're just all going on power trips, which irritates other people in the thread, resulting in its fall.

I mean REALLY. There should be NO REASON ANYONE, even the OPer, should have to commission an ARMY OF DRONES just to take out one person. There is NO REASON WHY anyone should have enough power to obliterate entire city blocks. There is NO REASON this thread should have to wither like it has been doing before finally dying because one or two people can’t play unless things go JUST their way

It's fine to use creative license to make your character seem god-like in proportion. It’s fine you can write an epic history filled with the destruction of worlds and dimensions and boosting and blah blah blah. But then we enter the world of INTER-CHARACTER RP. Where MULTIPLE PEOPLE-Not just you-Multiple people who think for themselves-Things have to change. Not everyone enjoys having characters who can destroy entire cities. Heck, some people hate having characters who can level small buildings. The point is, it’s no fun when everything in the thread is just a game of seeing who can come up with the most ridiculous reason X to boost power by an amount of Y to do something where you auto-profit Z.

If everyone could be more like Mr. Grey, this forum could be amazing. Want to know why? Because Mr. Grey is very even-handed. He has weak and strong characters. They don’t go around blowing [censored] up with amount of force N just because they CAN. He plays by the rules. His characters are mortal-they can be killed, they can be hurt. And usually, they can do the same to you. Then at the same time, there is the overall plot and story and the extra throw-ins, which make encounters and interactions with his characters fun to go through. He’s a damn good writer and RPer, and there is not a single person on these boards who can possibly claim he isn’t.

Every time I read one of your posts, I WINCE. Everything seems so monotonous. Attack, permapowerboostcounternuke, attack, permapowerboostcounternuke+, attack, permapowerboostcounternuke++, attack… Hell, it’s even impossible to hold just a normal conversation with one of your characters without SOMETHING similar to that sequence going off.

Can’t people have normal [censored] characters with normal [censored] power sets who actually have [censored] limits and who are actually [censored] possible to have FUN with, for everybody involved?

The answer to that question is no.

It was stated that entering uber-powerful characters would meet with retaliation on-par force to counter said uber-powerful character. Which is why we are currently in this whole crappy Ghost Widow/Lord Recluse/Arbiters/Drones/Explosions/Nukes/Auto-ing/Power Tripping RUT. And I [censored] HATE IT. When I look at this RP I find that there is no incentive for me to continue to post. It’s no longer fun to do so, I find no joy in this place. But I’m going to continue to post. Using just my PLAIN characters, who use NORMAL power sets, who CANNOT level entire cities and planets, who HAVE limits, and who are NOT god-like in proportion, I am going to use every resource available to KILL OFF YOUR characters. Preferably PERMANENTLY.

Now that I’m in a considerably worse mood, I’m going to withdraw for a while now. I need time to cool down. /e headdesk /e quit /e leave

BIC:

"Oh, she's resting." Said the fluttering voice of Tragedy as Cry walked in. Something was peachy here in a moonish kinda way, with a hint of whiskey tango foxtrot and mayhaps some onions. He had walked through the door leading into the tower and somehow wound up inside a BALLROOM. There was an enormous empty and open space of white floor directly in front of him, with a grand central staircase running up the center of the room, with balconies of gold and silver with rich red velvet carpeting leading up to a series of balconies with intricate scenes of lavish spectacle and celebration carved in, figures grinning and feasting. Light exploded from a million sources, the chandelier above, wrought of a fine silver metal and glittering with thousands upon thousands of ornate crystals, gathering light and throwing it in every direction, bending color and scenery.

And there was a party going down. Hundreds of figures, decked in clothing so fine lords and kings would have slaughtered masses to behold them, spiraled about. Gentlemen and ladies danced and circled in pairs, in groups, lines, rows and columns. Dancing and singing and celebrating. Splashes of every color imaginable filled the crowd, gems of every shade and tint glinting like stars, voices of varying power and degree roaring in unison to sing! For one moment, they all turned to face the newcomer, their new party guest, and Cry saw the truth.

They were all wearing masks. White masks, black masks, blue fuzzy masks, masks that looked like wahoonies, masks that defied all forms of sense, masks that hurt to look at, masks of radiance, you get the picture. This was a Masquerade ball! And it was clear that the guests were all currently enjoying themselves, and were quite fine people, because they broke into song to celebrate the arrival of the shadowy form that was Cry. It went something along the lines…

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade . . .
Masquerade!
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!

Masquerade!
Every face a different shade . . .
Masquerade!
Look around -
there's another
mask behind you!

Flash of mauve . . .
Splash of puce . . .
Fool and king . . .
Ghoul and goose . . .
Green and black . . .
Queen and priest . . .
Trace of rouge . . .
Face of beast . . .

Faces . . .
Take your turn, take a ride
on the merry-go-round . . .
in an inhuman race . . .

Eye of gold . . .
Thigh of blue . . .
True is false . . .
Who is who . . .?
Curl of lip . . .
Swirl of gown . . .
Ace of hearts . . .
Face of clown . . .

Faces . . .
Drink it in, drink it up,
till you've drowned
in the light . . .
in the sound . . .

Masquerade!
Grinning yellows,
spinning reds . . .
Masquerade!
Take your fill -
let the spectacle
astound you!

Masquerade!
Burning glances,
turning heads . . .
Masquerade!
Stop and stare
at the sea of smiles
around you!

Masquerade!
Seething shadows
breathing lies . . .
Masquerade!
You can fool
any friend who
ever knew you!

Masquerade!
Leering satyrs,
peering eyes . . .
Masquerade!
Run and hide -
but a face will
still pursue you!

Masquerade!
Masquerade!
MASQUERADE!

There was a sudden vacuum of silence as every figure in the room finished their dance and gave a low bow to the newcomer. All but two. Two by one, one descended the stairs as two, as by one, in the form of two who are one, being one, while being two. One and the same, far and apart.

Comedy descended down the stairs.

"Welcome my lord! What will your pleasure be?"

All of this seemed to happen in a split second, like somebody had hit the fast-forward button on life. The entire thing had just HAPPENED instantly. This didn't seem to be a bad thing, as most of the crowd had suddenly turned away from him and appeared to be chattering away in their own little groups, there was laughter, and fancy background muzak, and dining, and giggles, but not a hint of opposition was anywhere.

“Yes my lord.” Daos said, giving Cry a look of utmost contempt before the screen went dark. The time of reckoning had come. Daos handled everything personally, contacting every last member of the extermination squad individually and briefing them. The time for reckoning had come.

***

Tamesis suddenly received an order direct from Daos. “Arbiter, you have been selected to be a part of the execution squad assigned to bring down ex-lieutenant Cry. Finish your current duties ASAP and report to the main base. The time for reckoning is here!”

***

Jake received more or less the same message.

***

Dozens of Arbiters around the Rogue Isles suddenly activated their teleport beacons and vanished as they received their orders.

***

Cry was wrong. DEAD wrong, as it were. Arachnos DID have the means to kill him. And they WANTED to use said methods. In the darkness, thousands upon thousands of red ocular lens began to pulse with red and blue light.

The Arbiter Drones awakened.

THESE were the true power behind the throne of Arachnos. Cry would not just be answering to the Arbiters-He would be answering to their toys as well. His powers would be useless against the machines. Nobody had EVER stood against them before. Not Nemesis, not the Rikti, NOBODY got in the way when the drones came barging in. These were not the run-of-the-mill drones. These were the one-shot-you-are-dead vaporizing drones who never missed and couldn’t be fought. There was no form of combat that was effective against them. They had been perfected so thoroughly that NOTHING could stop them.

And they knew. Many things, actually. One of which being Cry’s EXACT location. He would have no defense, and no means of holding them at bay. His only hope was to RUN. The drones were slow, and easy to outrun. But from here on out, Cry would never be able to stay in one place without placing himself in jeopardy beyond his imagination. There was no negotiation with these silent and infallible guardians. There was no trickery or confrontation. There was only DEATH.

They were quite patient, and did not acknowledge the flow of time. They would pursue Cry through the ages, through any obstacle, through any hassle to bring him down. They could, and WOULD do so.

They began their journey.

***

The Arbiter Drones weren’t the only ones. Cry could probably outrun the Arbiter Drones for years before they eventually caught him. To slow him down, or to just beat the drones to the job, Cry now had some hundred Arachnos assault groups, each composed of nothing but the elite, homing in on him. There was nowhere he could run and no method he could use to hide. They had means beyond his, with the full might of Arachnos and its science and magic backing them.

Cry WAS going to be caught. He WAS going to pay for his crime. It was not a matter of how, it was a matter of when.

***

Halfway to Boomtown with his squad, Cynic received an order from Daos. A SPECIAL one, different from the others.

“Arbiter Cynic, I have an assignment for you. Lord Scirocco will have to hold his own for a while more. You have a job to do. Arachnos does not work with its enemies, but technically, the organization I want you to seek out and use isn’t our enemy. Yet...”

Two hours of briefing later, Cynic was sagged against a wall. He muttered three words, which sealed his fate. “[censored] time travel…”

***

There was movement of the unseen. Comedy and Tragedy exchanged masks, and waited. Patiently.

((Recluse isn't human. You could probably rip his heart out, and he'd grow a new one. I don't think there is ANY kind of physical injury that can possibly impede him for long, but that's up to Devious to decide.))

((Lord Recluse does not control any portion of Europe, last I checked. He might have an embassy I believe, but is making little headway. In any case, I do not believe you should expect any mention of progress or action in Europe concerning Arachnos or any other NPC group.

Now please do complain about Scirocco and Cry so I may point that out again.

But yes, you're right. I jumped the gun there. I'll leave it be.))

((Things like that are ok, because it's covered in the parameters of the thread. Warburg is part of the Rogue isles, and its not an independant nation. Rogue Arachnos is an actual NPC group under our jurisdiction. Warburg has always been a *true* free-for-all zone, so the way you have it set up it completely logical.))

((He's not really ever-present. :/ Some people have lives and can't manage to make it online when they are needed.))

((This is a thread about PARAGON CITY and the ROGUE ISLES. [u]YOU[u] have [u]ZERO[u] authority to go and use entire nations, REGARDLESS of size, for any purpose other than the introduction of a character. We have already threadjacked enough here, don't you think?

Unless it is by general consensus, you should not do anything. It is pointless, irrelevent, has nothing at all to do with the plot currently at hand. This story was NEVER meant to be on a NATIONAL, NOR GLOBAL scale. This is a story where it has already hit GAME OVER. World has ended. Buh-bye. This is SUPPOSED to be a story about the life and survival of people EXCLUSIVELY in the Rogue Isles/Paragon city in a post-apocalyptic/despotic society. If you want to go and use an entire nation/landmass ASIDE from those two locations, you may take your character AWAY from said locations, and as a consequence, out of this RP.

Now, if you have permission from Blood Wolffe, that is an entirely different matter. I will not object if you have official permission.))

((How about no?))