Romanov

Knights of Albion
July 26th - A Dragon Awakens

For some days prior to this adventure, Union Rose (Rachael) had not been herself. This lead to her waking up in a hotel room with fellow knight Dragon Chief (Griff) in a luxury hotel room with a magicians assistant from Glasgow and a fake cop tied up with vines in the bathroom. Shortly after she made advances towards Griff and ripped off his trousers…
We pick up when Griff made the announcement to Lord Britanic (Tim), Ryan Moriarty, Fairy Thunder (Agnes/Aggie), Ms London (Jan), Dolmen (Ash) and Folk Tale (Caitlyn/Cait).



Ryan Moriarty: So here we have another new room, full of stuff I am not going to be the first to test.
Folk Tale: Well at least we found each other.
Lord Britanic grins
Lord Britanic: I see The Lady has some idea we'll need all this...stuff.
Dolmen: Did you find that doors moved? That a way through that was there 5 minutes ago had shifted?
Lord Britanic: Try and keep up, Dolmen. A new map was issued 3 minutes ago!



Dragon Chief: Stupid fairy! This is an emergency!!!



Folk Tale tries to determine if its better to view trouserless Griff from the front or back
......
Folk Tale decides the back is better



Lord Britanic bursts out laughing
Dragon Chief: This is serious, fellas.
Dragon Chief: Rachael attacked me...she ripped of my trousers and...there was grabbing.
Fairy Thunder: Thineallowed a lady to aprehend you and escape with... your trousers?
Ryan Moriarty: Ok. Rachael? We're talking about a real thing that happened and not a hallucination here?
Folk Tale looks confused
Folk Tale: Rache?
Lord Britanic: Rachael? OUR Rachael?
Dragon Chief: Of course it was real...haven't you noticed she's been...different lately.
Lord Britanic: Are you sure you didn't get confused again, Bryn?
Dragon Chief: I wish I was.
Ryan Moriarty: I guess I haven't seen her in a few days...
Lord Britanic: Okay, let's just calm down for a sex.. umm..sec.



Dolmen: Yes, definitely not like her at all. She must be possessed.
Ryan Moriarty: We'll have to track her down, I'll do a quick diagnosis for psychic whatchamacallits, and we'll see what we can do.
Lord Britanic: Okay, okay... so where is she now?
Dragon Chief: Something is wrong with her but...it's not that unbelievable!



Dragon Chief: She got a tattoo...and her niiii...had some piercings.
Folk Tale mumbles


Even when hunting down a fellow Knight Lord B takes the time to deal with 'vermin' (The Tuatha in this case, not the fairy!)



Finding Rachael & having a picnic:



More Knightly adventures at http://themilitia.org.uk/newforumPSR...forum.php?f=69.

((April 8th))

The Cadre

Following the attacks on the Devil's Candy and the stone gated portal beneath, The Cadre leaders were keen to send a message to their rivals and enemies that they were not vulnerable.
Third Degree Byrne, Warplocke, Devastatia and Lily Pink met in the Cadre’s base to discuss a plan of attack on an underwater Longbow outpost. However, as invariably happens when Deva and Lily are together, the conversation soon turned to insults and animosity. It culminated with Deva causing Lily pain with one of her psychic assaults.
But Byrne and Hank were able to finally direct the team to attack the base.

During the successful assault, the Cadre discovered information about a strike on villainous factions on the Isles by no less than the Vindicators. With their numbers boosted by Little Squeak and Tarana the decision was made to make a show of strength as well as getting some payback against Paragon’s heroes who they had faced in the past.
Tarana had returned from a break overseas and seemed refreshed but her fighting ability and strength had not been dulled.

The Cadre defeated Luminary, Mynx, Valkyrie and Ms Liberty as well as the Longbow forces supporting them. However, the strike was put in jeopardy by the behaviour of Lily, Deva and Little Squeak. It started when Deva, due to a side affect of her possession by a force or forces behind the portal beneath the Candy, vomited acid on Lily’s favourite boots. Lily retaliated by swinging her pink wrench, Mr Rusty, at Deva’s shoulder and injuring her. The heated argument during a lull in the battle against overwhelming forces was only put on hold when Deva consented to buy Lily new boots in addition to giving her the jacket she was wearing.

The feud reared its head again, however, when the full force of a Ms Liberty roundhouse kick felled Lily. Barely conscious and with her ribs cracked, Lily was stamped on by Little Squeak presumably out of some loyalty to Deva.

Hurt and feeling persecuted, Lily turned her fury on Byrne and Hank for not taking action against the mouse or Deva. Only Tarana supported Lily, perhaps seeing her younger self in the firebrand. Lily called both the men pussies and questioned their ability to lead the team resulting in a tense stand off with Byrne. However, due to her injuries, Byrne made the decision not to do anything terminal to Lily but reniforced that her behaviour could have serious consequences. It was agreed they should all retire to the Devil’s Candy.

Back at the base, Hank aided Lily’s healing but she was still very angry. Even Deva’s delivery of the promised boots and jacket didn’t appease Lily who forced Deva to get Squeak to admit she had stamped on her deliberately.
As the drama continued, Deva became so angry with Lily that she carried out an attack of unprecedented magnitude conjuring up Lily’s most painful memory and forcing her to relive it. Lily was overwhelmed and ran from the room in tears, only pausing to accuse and threaten Deva.

Perpetuating his reputation as the Cadre’s resident nice guy, it was Hank that followed Lily. During a long and honest conversation they both shared secrets about their pasts and presents, including their secret relationships to Cadre leader Nadja Romanov. Hank also confirmed that the story of Nadja making preparations for the final battle with Mason was to cover for the serious magical injury she had suffered. Lily also explained the root of her dislike of Deva.

Meanwhile, Byrne stayed to discuss the situation with Deva and Little Squeak. Although still furious at the three of them, he was able to get them to agree to back off and stop rising to Lily's childish goading. Little Squeak stated that she did not recognise some people as members of the pack, something which Byrne made a mental note to tell Nadja of, along with a report on the mouse's behaviour.

((Some belated updates for The Cadre villain rp group. The Cadre is brought to you by the people behind The Militia on Union and concerns a gang of criminals brought together under duress by the mysterious Mason. They operate from a ruined chapel beneath the Devil’s Candy strip club in Port Oakes. The group meets on Thursday evening and enjoys in game roleplay, forum roleplay, character, super group and community plots.
If you are interested in participating visit www.themilitia.org.uk or talk to @Romanov, @Dante, @Wolfram or @Wild Red in game.))

The Cadre

Feb 4

The Cadre continued to prepare themselves for the planned strike against the family of monsters that have declared a blood feud against them.

Nadja Romanov, Julius Byrne, Deva and Zajin raided a Council cell who had stolen some research and genetic material from the Crey scientist MacMurray. The material is key to the biological weapon being developed by Arachnos scientists within Arbiter Krieger’s unit to eradicate the family.

Infiltrating the Rogue Islands water company is also an intrinsic part of the plan and the Cadre then abducted one of the managers after defeating the private security. Zajin killed the manager and assumed her identity in anticipation of the final offensive against the family.

Feb 11

Hank Delacroix, Little Squeak, Deva and Julius Byrne met in the Cadre's lounge beneath the Devil's Candy and discussed their feelings on the planned bio-weapon strike against the monster family. Byrne and Deva expressed misgivings about the weapon, Byrne considering it too reminiscent of efforts to exterminate mutantkind, Deva concerned that the virus would get out of control.

The group travelled to St. Martial to combat a group of Knives of Artemis mercenaries that Arachnos wanted removed. Shortly afterward, Byrne received a call from an Arachnos contact informing him of a major Nemesis Army offensive against Grandville. Not wanting to get on the Spiders' bad side when the Cadre already had enemies on all sides, the four attacked the Nemesis beachhead and destroyed four of the attacking Mole Machines, though not without all suffering some degree of injury.

Deciding that they'd earned a rest, the group retired to the redside bar of Pocket D, where they discussed Deva's suffering at the hands of Mason, the perils of Valentine's Day, and the trustworthiness of Morgan and Jasmine. Having resolved to question the Atavist on the nature and disposition of his god, Squeak left to rest up at the Candy, Byrne walked Deva home, and Hank set out to feed and replenish his strength.

Feb 24

Nadja Romanov and Warplocke (Hank Delacroix) met beneath the Devil’s Candy and discussed a general sense of unease that they both felt. A calm before a storm maybe. They decided to take the initiative and see if any of their rivals or enemies were plotting against them.

They decided the best way to do this was to talk to investigative reporter Harry Gordon who had a reputation for being in the know about the machinations of the rival factions of the Rogue Island. As luck would have it, his reputation had seen him abducted by the Carnival of Shadows. Nadja and Hank had some fun dispatching the Carnies before Hank had a man to man talk with Harry.

Harry told Hank that Longbow were planning a strike against one of the islands players. The formidable Agent Crimson was in town and Nadja and Hank speculated that he could be looking for payback against the Cadre for their numerous clashes with Longbow and other heroes.

Joining forces with a mysterious armoured brute called Night’s Champion, Hank and Nadja launched a surprise attack on Longbow and captured Agent Crimson. Crimson told them that the target was in fact a Crey facility and the strike was to be led by no less than Ms. Liberty.

In the mood for action and tempted by the opportunity to poke around in Crey’s files by the organisations own invitation or cry for help, Nadja, Hank and Night’s Champion defended the base from the Longbow assault. Nadja uploaded several files from the lab mainframe before inviting Hank to call on her later that evening.

Missy Winters was in familiar territory. In her years as Miss Teen, when she had the distinction of having more licensed products that Bart Simpson, she had attended countless conventions. But that was when she was one of the strongest and cutest beings on the planet. As cute as she may have looked in her pink jeans and white St Tidus Angels tee, she felt like a fraud.

“Hey, Missy,” said Comic Book Dan, one of Capecom’s organisers. “Glad you could make it. Do you want a skinny latte before we let the cattle at you?”

Missy gave a natural doomsday device stopping smile. “Sure, that would be nice. But I don’t think many people are going to want to meet me this year, Dan. You know it’s like a year since I lost my powers.”

Dan lead her through a corral of partition boards to her table. “You’re kidding, right? You’re still one of the biggest draws at the con. Word on the street is that some guy from Talos has one of the ultra rare Miss Teen dolls in the cobalt blue variant costume for you to sign.” He paused and coughed. “You do remember that…”

“Yes!” she said. “They don’t like it when you take them out of the box. Even when it’s a doll of you!”

He motioned for her to sit. “Besides, there’s a lot of interest in your merchandise from year one and two. One guy quit his job at Terra Volta to run a Miss Teen store on eBay. Retro is big business.”

Missy looked stunned as if Dan had kicked her in the shin. “I’m 19 years old! How can I be retro?”

Juan Ramon Vasquez, also known as the Milita hero Estoque, would have liked to have been anywhere else on earth right now. A pit of snakes? A bed of broken glass? Anywhere but in the middle of a convention hall surrounded by girls who seemed almost as shy as him. He thought he’d dress in civilian clothes of a black tee and jeans to limit any attention that would come his way. But having skin the colour of marble and teen-heart throb bone structure made it hard to blend the crowd. Especially this crowd.

The girls were getting braver. They started asking him questions. Offering him things to sign. When those things involved exposed flesh he felt his skin darken and looked for an escape route.

“Um…” he said as he spotted the towering frame of Mr MacKenzie. “I have to go…Militia business,” he added as he walked briskly towards Mr MacKenzie.

He sighed when he saw a table with his hero name on it and quickly sat behind it. He poured himself a glass of water as the girls formed a line.

He looked at Mr MacKenzie and sighed again. “Imogen said this would be…fun.”

[ QUOTE ]


I,m sorry, I know it was probably annoying and unfair for them to do this to you after your hard work.....


,,,,,,,,but I did find this funny

Sorry

[/ QUOTE ]

Yes, I find it funny too. But I understand how it might not have appeared that way in my post.

Can anyone tell me how to challenge a arc being banned? Bear with me as it does come under the subject of farming. I, perhaps naively, made a mission about farming. The contact is Farmer Giles and you have to rescue his livestock from the evil Old McDonald. All the enemies in the missions are custom mobs with imaginative monikers like Ram Beau, Cow Belle and Hugh Heifer.

My problem is this arc as been banned as a “Farming” arc. I thought “Farming” in the context that would result in a ban referred to missions that provided “an unintended statistical advantage”. But it seems it refers to missions that have a theme of agriculture too. It only needed the person responsible to read the mission’s description to realise it was the latter. The truth is the mobs are pretty tough and would, I’m sure, frustrate a farmer (an in game farmer rather than a gent who makes his living raising livestock or produce).

Dee Dee Diablo and her punk band The Last Word are well known on the Paragon music scene.
They regularly gig at clubs around the city, most frequently at the Comet Club, Galaxy City.
They have released one album Greetings from the Gutter and several singles.
Dee's most recent release was a solo single These Are My Demons.
Dee has a history of playing charity events such as Rock Against the Rikti and concerts for the Angel Foundation and Hope Island.

((Another person who realises their wiki entries are very much in need of updates))

((I'll take an lk spot if available please.))

Clubber Bling brought his big rig Pain Management to a hault next to a battered payphone.

He stepped down, picked up the receiver in his huge hand and dialled.

"Clubber Bling."

Romanov nodded respectfully to Walter. “Of course. Once the ritual is complete we will discuss whatever you wish.”

“As you will see the plans for the device in Crowley’s book are very detailed. You may study them and take notes as you wish, but for the time being I must insist that the book remain here. As you will see, many of the device’s parts are specific and it is to recovering them that we must soon turn our attention.”

He turned from Walter. “But for the moment let us set about our dark enterprise.”

((We can leave them here to complete the ritual and pick things up after it))

((Open thread for short stories about characters facing the various entities escaping from the dark dimension as part of the Harbinger plot. Or even stories inspired by the Zombie Apocalypse))

[u]SCREAMS FROM A MALL[u]
Starring Miss Teen

8.38am, Apartment of Mindy and Melissa “Missy” Winters, Founder’s Falls, Paragon City

Missy Winters, also known as the hero Miss Teen, held her pink and silver cellphone to her ear with a look of intense concentration on her face. “Thanks for letting us know. I’ll like be there as soon as I can.”

She snapped the cell shut and looked at the three other girls in her bedroom that looked like the site of a Miley Cyrus explosion. Missy was a slender, blonde girl in her late teens. She perhaps had slightly more muscle definition that her friends who were all dressed in similar vest tops and short skirts, but nothing to hint at the awesome strength and resilience she possessed.

She looked at her friends. A look of serious contempt ion on her face. “The rumours are true girls. The new DKPC winter line is going on sale at the So Chic boutique this morning. It’s like a third off but this is like the last delivery before Christmas.”

“No way,” gasped one of the girls.

“Way, Briana,” said Missy seriously. “Way. But it’s not all bad news. Lucy is holding us a place at like third in the line.”

“Then we’re fine, we have plenty of time to…”

“No, Cyndi, we don’t. Lucy says there’s this like old, serious lady in the line and she’s afraid she’s going to call no cutsies.”

“Can she do that, Missy?”

Missy nodded. “If she calls it, then we’re at the back of the line, ladies. So we have to get there on the double and prepare for a charm offensive. Make sure you have your cells and credit cards, girls, because once we leave we are not coming back until I have that pink top with the swirls and those cute little strappy shoes.”

8.58am, Marvelsdale Train Station, Paragon City

As the girls walked down the ramp from the elevated train station, Missy could here the commotion and sirens.

She turned to her friends. “Oh no, looks like word about the delivery got out. Ok, remember, don’t make eye contact with anyone. Just focus on Lucy and walk straight to her.”

The girls nodded. But as they got closer, plumes of smoke spilling from the concrete and glass palace of consumerism suggested that something more sinister was afoot. Missy had seen smoke from fires hundreds of times in her hero career, but this was different. The smoke seemed alive as if it was ensnaring the mall rather than escaping it.

“Oh my gosh!” squealed Missy. “The mall! And Lucy is in there!”

She turned to her friends and signalled them to halt with her hand. He voice lowered a few octaves and became more authoritative. “Wait here, this is a job for…well, you know the drill. I’ll go see what I can do.”

The PCPD were setting up a cordon as Missy approached the mall. A fresh faced young officer called to her. “Hey, miss, you can’t go in there. All hell’s broken loose.”

Missy looked at him, thinking to herself that he kinda looked like slightly more mature Zack Efron. “Hold on, let me get my licence.” She rummaged in her little handbag. “It’s in here somewhere.”

A sergeant jogged up to Missy. “Sorry, commander, Jenkins here just transferred from Connecticut. Please, come through, we need all the help we can get. We’ve sent officers in but…something’s sealed the place up and we haven’t head anything for about five minutes.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” said Missy with a smile. “I’ll go take a peak.” She turned back. “And don’t be too hard on Jenkins…you could even say like if he wanted to ask me for coffee or a movie one day that, you know, I’d probably say yes.”

9.02am, Quesada Shopping Mall, Marvelsdale, Paragon City

The dark smoke seemed to be forming a barrier around the mall. Missy closed her eyes and charged at the entrance. Rumble and dist fell as Missy smashed her way through. Inside the mall looked like a twister had passed through it. Unearthly screams resonated around the place causing a chill to pass over her skin even beneath the glowing pink energy that now protected her.

Ahead she saw a cop taking shelter behind a metal bench. She ran up to him.

“Don’t worry, sir, I’m not just a girl, I’m Miss Teen. I’m here to help. What’s the sitch?”

The officer seemed relieved but there was a look of terror in his eyes. “There evil. I don’t know what they are. There like something from a horror movie. We lost the food court to them when the first wave came through…from wherever they came from. Sanchez and Richards reclaimed the frozen yoghurt stand but I don’t know how much longer they can hold out. Last I heard, more had appeared and they were headed up to the Mezzanine.

Missy gasped. “Do you mean floor 4b near the one hour photo kiosk because sometime people incorrectly refer to that as the Mezzanine?”

The cop looked at her sternly. “No, I mean the Mezzanine often called Little Rodeo Drive due to the proliferation of fashion boutiques like…”

Missy bowed her head. “Like So Chic,” she said as she clenched her fists. “Then that’s where I’m going.”

“But you’ll have to pass through the food court.”

“Then that’s what I’m going to do.”

9.05am, The Chris Farley Memorial Food Court, Quesada Shopping Mall, Marvelsdale, Paragon City

The floor was littered with pretzels, soda cups and melting frozen yoghurt. Several cops were lying still on the floor, Missy could not tell if they were alive or dead. As she walked over the Beverly Hills Ninja mosaic in the centre of the court dark ominous shapes appeared in her peripheral vision. As they ambled closed she could see they were zombies dressed like people she had seen in pictures in history class. All armour, leather and pointy bits.

She looked at them. “Oh no,” she said. “An medi…mede…olden days army of the dead. And here I am just a pretty young girl, who many comment looks like a skinny Hilary Duff, in an amazingly cute outfit. What am I to do?”

She waited as they came closer. Moaning and screaming as is often the want of zombies and such. She pouted. Apologising beneath her breath for the property damage as she smashed her foot down into the smiling face of Farley. The shockwave sent the undead flying like ragdolls in a washing machine. As they crashed into kiosks, benches and walls they exploded into the stuff of shadows. And then nothing.

The pink energy around Missy glowed brighter as her body raised from the shattered floor and she flew forwards the Mezzanine.

9.08am, The Mezzanine, Quesada Shopping Mall, Marvelsdale, Paragon City

Missy felt as she was in a wind tunnel as she landed on the Mezzanine. A group of people were huddled in a corner as screaming shadows flitted around them like hyperactive bats. Missy sighed with relief when she saw Lucy’s distinctive yellow wheelchair with pink and baby blue details.

“Lucy!” she called as she ran over to the group. “It’s ok, don’t be scared, I’m here.”

The younger red-headed girl smiled at her friend. “I wasn’t scared, Missy. I don’t want to get blasé in the face of danger and stuff but when you’re best friend is an indestructible hero who can bench press a locomotive you tend to have a different perspective. Like, you have faith in her to come rescue you.”

Missy smiled and hugged Lucy. “Awww, that’s so sweet. I feel like I’m going to cry. Love you!”

“I love you too, Missy,” replied Lucy. “But…those guys look pretty intense.”

Missy turned to where Lucy was looking. At the top of the escalator was a row of hooded figures on dead, monstrous horses. More were on the escalator and as they reached the top they formed a second row of dark riders.

The lead rider raised his hand then hurled a ball of dark energy. It struck the jewellery stand, completely destroying a display stand of butterfly barrettes.

Missy clenched her jaw, worrying that it made her look less that attractive but thinking it was worth it to show these bad guys she meant business.

She matched up to the riders. “Look, I’m happy to play the girl scout hero. Stopping all your kinds fiendish plans without giving you the butt whupping you deserve. But you have gone like way too far. Not only have you threatened my friend but you have trashed the mall! The mall! Is nothing sacred to you people? This is like the best mall in the city. To get the one in Atlas Park we have to change trains and it doesn’t even have a nail bar!”

Whatever hideous visage was beneath the lead rider’s hood looked at Missy. It spoke in rasping whisper. “The Shadowriders have waited centuries to escape the Netherworld and bring chaos to these lands. The small yellow haired female will not stand in our way. We will destroy her and then her precious…mall.”

“Hey,” shouted Miss Teen, “Talk to me, not about me!”

Outside the mall, a moment of stillness was shattered as a row of windows exploded. Five undead horsemen and their mounts hurtled into the street and exploded on the sidewalk.

Three minutes later. Missy was assessing the damage she had caused after flinging the last protesting rider through the window. “Maybe, I went to far. I mean, those windows can’t be cheap and I guess I could have tried to talk them round.”

Lucy gave a reassuring smile. “Think of all the damage they would have caused if you hadn’t stopped them. And they probably would have harvested our soles too! I can’t wait to write this up for the school newspaper but…do you think they’re going to open So Chic to…”

One of the men who had been cowering in fear stood up. “I suppose I could open up…although I really think I should get a day off for emotional trauma.”

Suddenly the people got to their feet and started rushing to the So Chic boutique.

“I was here first,” said one.

“No, I was first in line,” said another.

Missy gripped the handles of Lucy’s wheelchair tightly. “Call the girls quick and hold on!” she said as she sped towards the store. “This is a job for Miss Teen!”

Alexander Romanov walked into the great hall. He was wearing an immaculately tailored black Brioni suit and, as he scanned the room, he made a mental note that wealth and taste seemed to be the spoils of those on his side of the ancient battle lines.

He felt those assembled observing him. Most of them saw beyond the handsome, if slightly predatory in appearance, businessman. Guard dogs protecting the sheep from a wolf. There was fear. Resentment. And with good reason as the last time he had seen several of the people in the hall he had been dangling one of their loved ones over a volcano or vat of acid. Memories.

He nodded to Dante. A sign of respect to another great mage as well as a signal that he was not here to usher in chaos. No, that was taking care of itself very well outside these walls.

He took his seat and waited.

Meanwhile, Sebille Riley was almost anonymous as she sat in silence to Dante’s left.

“Blood and mayhem will be inescapable consequences of our actions, so you need have no fear on that score, Countess,” said Romanov after a few seconds silence.

He turned to Erebus. “Yes, we are thinking along the same lines, my friend. We have no need to create what has by fortune already come into being. We simply need to help things on their way. Or rather in the way of our choosing.”

He waved his hand towards the Primogen’s statue. A swirling black mist surrounded it and then was consumed by the rock. The creature came to life and began to claw and snap hungrily at its surroundings. Romanov held out his hand and the creature floated towards him.

“Primogen, I hope you will soon come to accept my words without so much doubt and questions. But you are right to raise your concerns.”

He held the creature in his fist. “I have not just studied this realm. I do not simply have experience of it. I am as close to mastering it as anyone on this earth.” He squeezed his fingers crushing the animated stone into dust. “And soon we shall all be masters of both dimensions.”

He gestured towards the stone altar. A shadow fell across it and then lifted. Now the head of a woman lay at its centre. “This woman had the strongest of connections with the dark dimension since birth. She did not exploit that connection to the full in life. But we shall in death."

A wind rose out of nowhere in the chamber. “Come, LoRDs, gather to the altar. Let the ritual begin.”

Romanov considered the Primogen’s words before replying.

“There are few that could claim to have more knowledge of the netherworld that Lord Erebus and myself. I personally have spent almost a century studying its dark secrets.”

He pressed his hands together. “But you are correct, no sane being on this earth would make the claim that they could harness the full power of the shadows should they be unleashed. But no being on earth has ever successfully constructed Crowley’s device set out in the book Erebus has in his hands. With our arcane knowledge and Walter’s mechanical skills I am confident, no certain, that we can truly master the darkness and create a new world of our own design.”

Romanov held out his fist. A trickle of dark dust fell from his hand like sand in an hourglass. “But the one thing the fates have not conspired to bestow on us is time. My source in MAGI has already begun to locate some of the items needed to construct the device. Their true purpose has long been forgotten but it will still be no easy task to obtain them. And the disruption caused by pursuing one may awaken certain minds to the significance of the others. So a distraction is in order.”

He turned to Erebus. “You have studied this recent disturbances as well as I. Do you believe that a ritual may be performed to enable us to shape their purpose to our own?”

As Walter appeared from the portal a dark swirling mist manifested in front of the altar signalling that a shadow crow had brought the final guest; the vampire Primogen.

Romanov nodded to them both. “Welcome, both of you. Forgive the sparseness of the hospitality on offer but I think the topic of discussion will soon make up for that. Please, take a drink and be seated.”

“Walter, you are right to question me so bluntly. I had hoped to reach out to you much more respectfully but we have been presented with an opportunity that is really too good to delay due to proper etiquette. And a Russian and an Englishman appreciate it’s importance more than anyone."

Romanov gestured to the book Erebus was holding. “What we have here is the schematics for a device I thought long gone if it ever existed at all. A device, as Erebus has just said, that can enable its wielders to truly master the power of the dark dimension and unleash it on a world we have all been attempting to conquer in our own fashion for too long.”

He looked at the faces of the assembled geniuses and monsters. “There are those that would call us evil. But is it so wrong to have ambition? To have vision? And in truth doesn’t each of us imagine a world better that the one the sheep value? Take a look around; isn’t the age of chaos already here? And what a wondrous new order we could forge together.

“That is what I want, Walter. To offer you a chance to bring your vision out of the laboratory and see it grow on a world stripped clean of its mistakes.

“And to the rest of you, imagine a world where your power is no longer shackled. Here, in my sanctum, is one of the few places where the two dimensions can coexist. Can you not already feel the limits of your power fading away? Imagine that power being yours in the whole of Paragon City and the Etoile Isles. Imagine the whole of the world.”

Romanov bowed his head. “Enchanting as ever, Countess. It is good to see you.”

“Yes, there is news and much that we need to discuss. But please, refresh yourself before we get down to business..”

Two women and a man in crisp white shirts and black trousers crossed the stone bridge to the platform where the three villains were standing. Each had a silver tray; one with champagne flutes filled will blood, another with small white cups containing Tieguanyin tea and the last with a decanter of 100 year aged cognac and glasses.

“This is the latest vintage from your blood farm on Liberty, Countess. I hope it meets your approval.”

The mage held out his hand before him. He slowly raised it and seven stone thrones grew from the ground like cacti caught with time lapse photography. He took a glass of cognac and took a seat in the new stone circle.

“Please, take a seat. As you see are numbers are depleted but I am hoping to rectify that shortly.”

“But to the task at hand. For almost a century I have been part of a League if you will. One that saw it’s beginning before recorded time. One that has tried to shape the world and its civilisations. This society of kingmakers, puppet masters and advisors has kept to the shadows. But even within the sanctuary of darkness it found itself locked in an eternal battle for those forces that exist to preserve balance. All it’s greatest victories tinged with inevitable defeats. And I am left today wondering if anything was truly achieved.”

He leaned forward in his chair. “But now, as Lord Erebus will confirm, I have within my grasp something that will truly bring about change. And I choose not to share it with the League but with you my friends. You whose ambition and skills equal my own.”

Romanov nodded to Erebus.

“I think it fair to say that over the past few months we have begun to get a measure of one another’s abilities so I will not insult you by asking if you have sensed the disturbances in the netherworld. Or to be precise the membrane between the world of shadows and that that which the cattle would cling to as reality.”

He turned and walked along the stone floor towards the altar. “And by the same token I will not insult you by extending my hospitality to you in the form of food and drink.” He picked up the leather bound book that Peddler had given him that now lay on the altar. Handing it to Erebus, he added: “I think you will find this much more to your taste, Lord Erebus. Why don’t you digest it while we wait for the Countess.”

Seemingly as deep beneath the ground as the shining towers of Steel Canyon were high above it, dark energy swirled like a circling beast of prey in Romanov’s inner sanctum.

A great altar had been hewn from the rock atop a plinth in the centre of the cathedral sized chamber. Beneath was only darkness and the echoing screams of those things that should not draw breath outside of nightmares.

Here was one of the correspondence points between dimensions. Of light and dark. Of the familiar and the other. Here all things seemed possible to those willing to pay sacrifice to the shadows.

Romanov was suspended in the charged air above the altar. A dark cruciform. A robe flittering around his rigid body like raven’s wings. His eyes as black as the snaking mists that swarmed hungrily around him.

And those dark eyes saw into the heart of the abyss. Saw the signs of the coming storm. The clumsy footprint of that oafish boy scout Britanic that called to the foulest denizens of the dark like a dinner bell.

The mage’s daughter Xenia Romanov stood silently at the ornately carved stone entrance to the chamber. Even now she still would not look the zombies on guard in the eyes. The dead eyes she could feel assessing her status as a threat. Or a meal.

Romanov lowered to the stone plinth and the darkness lifted from his eyes. “Why have disturbed me, Xenia?”

He motioned with his hand and dozens of hunks of crumbling rock rose from the shadows to create a bridge between the plinth and the entrance.

Xenia walked towards him. “I have a report from Level 6. They are sensing further anomalies in the barriers between…”

Romanov showed no emotion. “I am well aware of what is happening, daughter. The day I rely on reports from Level 6 regarding the netherworld I may as well simply wait for the news to come via Google alert.” He looked at her. “And what news from MAGI?”

Xenia fingered the hem of her tailored jacket. “They brought Britanic in for a debriefing. They are starting to put the pieces together. I think they will soon call in more of their experts to study the…problem.”

Romanov smiled. “Then we should make sure they have a problem on a scale worthy of them. Leave me now.”

As Xenia had to run the last few steps across the bridge to make way for a cloaked figure that radiated death and terror.

The figure came to a halt before Romanov. A hood cast a shadow over its face; rotting teeth the only points of light in its dark visage. “Master,” is said in a voice that sounded like a crypt door being closed.

“Go to the LoRDs and call them here,” said Romanov. “Our time is at hand.”

“Master,” repeated the figure before breaking apart into a murder of crows that dissipated in the darkness.

“I’ve reviewed the recordings, sir,” said Sebille, seemingly happy to be able to make a contribution. “And I’ve been studying the veil between our dimension and the netherworld.”

“There are…patterns.” She looked down at her handwritten notes and spidery ink diagrams before looking up again. “I believe…I mean I suspect that the conditions which allowed your return were not isolated…nor have they dissipated. The opposite in fact.”

She took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say…is that if the fabric between the two dimensions had a weakness…a little tear…that allowed you to pass through…then it’s not the only one.

“And not everything that could find its way through these tears is a returning hero...”

She traced her pen around the words “No doubt malevolent” and looked at the two men expectantly.

((This thread will contain the LoRDs participation in the Harbinger community plot))

Epilogue to Conquest of the Liberty Islands

Xenia Romanov sat at her desk in the open plan, modern office on floor 42nd floor of the steel and glass monolith in Steel Canyon. Romanov Tower. She wore expensive, designer black, but not because she was comfortable in it or it said something about her personality. Wealth and taste in tailored black was simply the done thing for the daughter of Alexander Romanov. And if she was honest with herself, Xenia would much rather breed horses or study to be a veterinarian than be a cog in the global conglomerate that fronted her father’s league of evil. Or perhaps she would go travelling around the world to find herself. To find out about the woman whose oriental princess features blended with the aristocratic Romanov lines in Xenia’s 21-year-old face. If things were different, perhaps.

Xenia looked around the office. Most of the staff and executives were watching the large screens on the supporting columns. They were all showing the same program; the Current Affairs Network’s special on the rapid political change that had taken place on the distant Liberty Islands. Some of the smart suited men and women knew the significance of the program; those that had had a hand in shaping the events that had been manipulated, abridged and dramatised for the viewing masses.

The program was reaching its conclusion. It relayed the events of the “dictator” General Buku bowing to international pressure to call an election on the islands. How he and his political rival Hatem Nasri were neck and neck in the polls as they both promised to lead the people from their economic crisis and the military stalemate with the Vanguard base on Black Rock Island. Then the screen displayed a montage of newspaper headlines and shaky hand held footage of an explosion and the ensuing panic. Hatem Nasri had been killed by a terrorist’s bomb.

Then a beautiful Indian woman’s face filled the screen. Tears of sadness. A trace of fear. But an inner strength and determination seen in those who rise to a challenge brought on by adversity. Rashme Nasri took her father’s place as leader of the United Freedom Coalition and won the election by a landslide.

The program ended with her first speech as president: “Our islands history has had many dark times; but now is the time for us to come together. This is the beginning of our better tomorrow. A tomorrow of prosperity. A tomorrow of understanding. A tomorrow of peace. But first we must live through today. And we ask that our small nation be left to heal. General Buku’s army will no longer stand against Vanguard but I, as the fairly elected president of these Islands, ask them to leave. There will be a time when our islands can stand proud with the rest of the word - but not today.”

Xenia’s telephone rang. Caller ID: Rashme Nasri.

“Hello, Ms Nasri,” she said politely. “I trust everything is well on the islands?”

“Yes, I believe so,” replied Rashme Nasri, or voice less certain than that Xenia heard on the television a moment earlier. “But there are some matters I would like to discuss with you father.”

“My father is a very busy man, Ms Nasri. He has dedicated a lot of time to strengthening the Liberty Islands but there are matters closer to home that need his full attention. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The President paused. “There is some concern in the cabinet about the speed with which League Associated Industries have been building industrial units here. I have tried to explain but…”

“Ms Nasri, our company is trying to help your nation,” said Xenia, reading for the company hymn sheet. “You yourself know the economic crisis that your country was in. My father and his partners have gone to great efforts to make this investment and it is not without risk. It will be years if ever before our company even begins to recoup the capital we have invested into your nation.”

“Yes, I understand. But there are other things that I want…need to discuss with your father. Personal matters.”

“Yes, I understand, Ms Nasri. And from one woman to another, I empathise, I really do. And I can tell you honestly that my father cares a great deal for you.” She inhaled, trying to believe the lie. “But he has made the decision to sacrifice those feelings to allow you to rebuild your nation. There is more at stake here than one man and one woman, and my father feels he must allow your attention to be focused on helping your people. Perhaps in the future things will be different but…I hope you understand.”

“Yes. I…understand.”

Sebille Riley wrote Dante's words "No doubt malevolent" and added a question mark. She underlined it before carrying on making notes.

Sebille smiled as Britanic handed her the last of her documents. She held them tight to her chest as she walked around the long wooden table. She put her load down on the table and took some effort to pull one of the heavy chairs back to sit on.

She looked down, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze in case they expected her to answer Britanic’s question, and waited for someone to speak.

The sound of books and charts falling on to the intricately tiled floor of the library announced Sebille Riley’s arrival. She was having a bad hair day and her face suggested she had been awake reading the charts and books all night. The charts and books that she was now on her knees scrambling to pick up.

“I…I’m sorry, gentlemen. I was…up all night…preparing and I overslept. I‘m just a bag of nerves when…when I said I‘d help I didn‘t expect…I mean, you‘re Britanic!”

A MAGI library, Atlas Park. September 12, 2008. Night

Sebille Riley was used to being mistaken for a librarian. She spent most of her time in the various libraries and bookstores in the city. Her wide blue eyes devouring every word from behind her wire frame spectacles. And her sensible grey skirt and jacket did little to dispel the bookish image. The only hint that she was something more than she appeared was the outline of her elfin ears beneath her straw coloured hair.

And here she was all alone in one of MAGI’s Atlas Park libraries. She had her own key, came and went as she pleased, and helped with any enquiries that people approached her with. She was just missing a nametag and a wage packet.

She was carrying out research into the netherworld on behalf of her MAGI superiors. She hadn’t been told exactly why it was necessary but there were rumours. In a body as old and full of secrets at MAGI there were always rumours. Talk of subtle changes in the barriers between this world and the shadows. And of a heavy hitting hero being brought in in an effort to make sense of it. She has already been trying herself; ever since she was a child she had felt some connection to the shadows. To the darkness. As she got older she researched the world behind the shadows. The dark place. A world with countless names. Among them the Netherworld. And now she felt a shift. Something was different in the darkness.

There was a shuffling noise. A noise not unfamiliar in the library of the daytime. But at night, alone, it caused Sebille’s heart to beat that little bit faster.

She looked down the dark corridors of leather, wood and paper. “Hello? Hello, can I help you?”

There was something in the shadows. Someone. The figure in the darkness ambled forward like a marionette missing several strings.

Sebille stood up. She had seen creatures who the stuff of nightmares to those not awake in these halls. “Mr Vermillion isn’t here. Everyone has gone home…but I could perhaps help you find what you are looking for.”

The figure moved into the yellow half light cast by her desk lamp. Wide watery eyes stared out from a dead face. Skin like parchment stretched over bone.

She placed the book in her right hand on the desk. A dark energy began to swirl around her hands. Anticipating what Sebille Riley hoped against hope was not about to happen. She opened her mouth but there were no words. Just a gasp as she was yanked from the ground by the creature behind her.

Six minutes later. Sebille scrambled to her feet. Out of breath. Heart pounding. The cold night air moving like a spectre from the broken library window. The darkness swirled around her hands still. Two zombies lay lifeless on the floor. Any spark of life now returned to the netherworld.

There was a footstep behind her. She gasped. A powerfully built Native American in a black suit gave her a compassionate look with a hard edge.

“Special…Special Agent Thunderhorse?” she said, a tremble detectable in her voice.

“Call me Michael, please,” said the FBI Agent currently on secondment with MAGI to investigate ritualistic murders. “What happened here, miss?”

Sebille looked down at the zombies. “I was attacked. Right here in the heart of MAGI. I…I don’t know…I defended myself, Spec…Michael.”

He nodded. “I can see that.” He looked at the broken window. “One of them fled I see.” He spoke into his radio. “Badger, we have an escape route. East window of the second floor library. Be on the look out for one ZU male.” He turned back to Sebille. “Do you have any idea how they got inside?”

Sebille shook her head. She took off her glasses with her left hand and sat down at the desk, scanning her handwritten notes. “I have sensed things….in the barriers in-between our dimension and…and the darkness.”

The agent moved closer to her, respecting her boundaries as he looked at the notebook on her desk. “Others have sensed disturbances and MAGI is taking this very seriously. A man who has recently broken free from the shadowlands after being trapped there for some time has been asked to attend a debriefing to help us fathom what is happening. I’d like you to attend I think your insights could be of value.”

Sebille looked down at the desk. “I don’t know, I’m just a researcher. There will be a lot of important and experienced…”

“Importance and experience isn’t always what’s required…sometimes a gut feeling can suddenly make the pieces of an investigation to fall into place,” said Michael.

Sebille nodded, giving a brave smile. “I’ll do what I can.”

Part Two

19 minutes later. The horn from the black limousine at the side of the road outside SwallowTail House sounded again. But this time it didn’t coincide with Dee’s orgasm.

The couple walked from the hallway into the spacious cream and white living area. Dee looked at the sleek pine and chrome dining table and chairs, the almost unfeasibly large plasma television, black leather sofa and reclining chairs, Nene’s practice stage and pole and the natural wood bar.

“I still can’t believe how well this turned out, Miss,” she said. “Your decorating skills are first rate. Second only to your skills in…” She moved in as if to kiss Nene again then smiled as the horn sounded for the third time. “I think we’re wanted.”

Nene helped Dee on with her jacket before looking at Dee. “You’re ready. Best not keep them waiting, Dee.”

Moment later they were greeted with a nod from the grey-suited driver that summed up his frustration more than words ever could. The young women slid into the back seat where their friends Diana Bright and Jessica Chang were waiting.

Outside in the limousine, teenage heroines (albeit one retired) Diana Bright and Jessica Chang were sitting side by side.

Diana was not thrilled to be there; the idea that heroes needed some sort of official recognition was foreign. But after Dee explained that doctors, police officers, charity workers, firefighters and ordinary members of the public were being honoured at the civic pride ceremony she had consented to come.

Jessie, on the other hand, was enjoying the limousine ride, chatting happily away to her friend.

“You really should...um…give Mr. Sable a...um…second chance Di…I’m sure he is just…shy…”

She paused and smiled to Diana.

Jessie was wearing a short dress, tailored to follow her curves like a second skin, and snow-white with golden embroidery. Around her neck was a white choker with a golden charm shaped like a cobra ready to strike.

The limo came to a halt and Jessie looked up, smiling as Dee and Nene entered.

Jessie was so proud that her friend was about to receive a medal, and even more so that she had been invited to join Dee for the ceremony.

Dee and Nene settled in the seat opposite the girls.

“Hey, girls,” said Dee. “The record company are springing for the ride so, remember, if anyone asks I got an award for songwriting.”

Diana looked up. “Dee, if you had an award for songwriting would it make your songs better? Heroes do not need medals and awards to…”

Nene sensed an old argument was about the flare up and placed a calming hand on Dee’s shoulder. “We respect your views, Diana, but Dee has chosen to accept the award and I respect her reasons for doing so. Now this is Dee’s day and she has asked the three of us to be with her to be with her to enjoy it. So why don’t we have a drink?”

Dee looked at Diana. Some of the things Diana had said about her standpoint on medals and how the money could better be spent had hurt Dee a little. In many ways Dee agreed with her; and part of her had wanted to refuse the medal. But for someone like Dee who felt she had to fight for every ounce of respect, even now when she seemed to save the city or part of it on an almost weekly basis, made the medal embarrassingly important to her.

She opened the refrigerator in the back of the car and handed out four champagne flutes. “Ok, we have champagne for the grown ups and Dr Parnaby’s Premium Orange Soda for the rest.

She took sip of her drink. “You know I’ve been really nervous about this whole thing for weeks but now I don’t have any nerves at all. I mean, hell, what’s the worst that can happen?"