• The Infractions Forum is available for public view. Please note that if you have been suspended you will need to open a private/incognito browser window to view it.

IC [Nobilis] Mean Everything to Nothing 2: Deviants and Demigods

Aincumis

Shichibukai
Validated User
CENTURIES AGO (BUT NOT MANY)

The Flying Dutchman docked at pirate's port-city. It crawled with ne'er-do-wells and fiends, fighting, shooting, spitting, drinking, carousing and thieving. The crew of the Dutchman, already feared amongst these seas, walked into the pirate-friendly town like returning heroes. On either side of them as they made their way through the mud-streets of the town, sea-dogs and those who read the newspapers made hoots and hollers as they passed. Women sent them kisses, which a few men made mental notes to collect on later.

Two men flanked the legendary and feared Captain Vanderdecken on each side. One was named Marshall Teach while the other was named Davy Jones. Though the former was more or less loyal to the brave and frightening Vanderdecken, the latter had his own ambitions. Jones smiled a gap-toothed grin at his counterpart on the captain's right side, the briefest of signs of what was to come.

Many mugs of grog later, the good captain Vanderdecken was dead.

Somebody had poisoned his liquor.

Jones stood atop the rickety table, one boot beside his late captain's head. "It would seem, me hearties, that we have a vacancy in the seat of power, a gaping vacuum in the structure of our little band, and one that shall not be left empty for long.

Naturally, I nominate meself."

Teach stood up. At this point history did not know him as "Blackbeard" and his face had only a few day's stubble on it. He was young, an upstart swordsman and Navy-deserter who had hacked and slashed his way into Vanderdecken's confidence in a few short years soaked in blood.

"You?" he demanded incredulously. "You arse-faced, inbred pissant!? CAPTAIN? Of the FLYING DUTCHMAN!?"

The tavern grew horribly silent.

"What are ye sayin', Marshall?" Davy asked with a sneer. He raised his rusty hook, a prosthetic implement that people whispered about in legend. He had lost it in a fight with a bokor he had double-crossed long ago, and had since proven it's curse by wetting it on the blood of women and children constantly. "I be Vanderdecken's first mate, ye see? So naturally it follows that I be the next in line fer the captain's seat, unless yer mind be as rotten as yer teeth you ugly Limey!"

The two pirates dueled on the sands. Teach was a better hand with the cutlass, but it is said that it is not always the best man in a fight that wins, it is the craziest. In that regard Jones had the younger pirate outmatched by far. He bit, he threw sand, his hook was everywhere it shouldn't be. But his fighting got sloppier and sloppier, his vision cloudier as the fight went on.

"What's the matter, sir?" mocked the future Blackbeard, tying his niscanee with a chortle. "Did the poison you slipped Vanderdecken find it's way into your cups as well?"

Jones coughed, his brow a waterfall. His heart was as hot as a volcano.

"I knew about your stupid plot, Jones," Teach explained. "And now you get to die the same coward's death you sentenced our captain to. He was a far better man then you!"

Teach punctuated his victory with a hocked loogie on his opponent's rapidly flushing face. He lifted the other pirate right over his head, the crowd cheering. Walking over to a cliff overlooking the sea, Marshall hurled Davy Jones into the deep waters, his poisoned body unable to keep afloat.

Turning to look at his new crew, he screamed like a madman. "Long live Captain Teach!" came the response from the terrified crewmates of the Flying Dutchman.

But Davy Jones was not dead.

He sunk down, down, all the way down.

Past fish, past sunken treasure, past lost Atlantis.

Until he finally reached the bottom. The very bottom of the ocean.

Delirious, clinging to life out of inhuman hate, Jones swore his soul then and there to whatever angel or devil ruled over the seas. He vowed to serve it, whatever force it was, if it would let him get his revenge on those bastards celebrating his death even now.

And before he touched the ground, Barakiel appeared and caught the falling pirate in his arms.

"I will hold you to that promise, Jones," whispered the Angel to his new Noble. "And you will have your justice. But for now sleep. We have a lot of work ahead of us."


THE LOWER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

Following the twin Jabberwocks down the underhalls of the warping newborn Chancel, Evelyn and Darla could see the arguing monsters were heading towards a much greater room. A throne-room, crafted of waterlogged wood, crawling with crustaceans and miniature jabberwocks, loomed far above them. In it, the hulking monsters they followed seemed tiny themselves. Before them was a massive throne crafted from a ship's wheel and hung with sunken treasure.

On it sat the master of this Chancel, the mighty Davy Jones himself. The old, wretched pirate seemed barely human atop his chair, a mass of nonsensical body parts cloaked in the blackness of his own heart and some filthy clothes. A hook rose from his captain's jacket, his face enshrouded behind his ratty beard.

Before him stood two people, or rather, nascent Nobles. They were husband and wife, and they knelt hand in hand, their rings held tight together, as if just remarried by the Excrucian. They did not look up as the jabberwocks approached and flanked Jones. They were enthralled by the glory of their new master, completely taken in by his horrible presence.

"I have a present for ye, my pretty pretty ..." cooed the monstrous Mimic. He reached inside a clam-shaped creature clinging to the end of his shoelaces and handed the amazingly beautiful woman in front of him a black animal talon, the size of a sword. It warbled with gravity, evidently crafted of stable dark matter. Her husband moved protectively, but Jones held him back without even trying. He had no ill will for the woman, and she could sense it so he took the gift graciously.

"It is the Talon of the Wyrm of Harumaph, it is" hissed Davy Jones with a burble. The twin jabberwocks burbled along in sympathy. "It will allow ye to rend time and space it will, he he he."

"I thank you, Davy Jones," said the woman.

"Yes, you have been ... um ...," her husband stammered, nervous in front of the alien pirate. "Very merciful."

"Aye, aye, I have," Jones laughed. "I have given ye powers far above yer ken. And, I have made yer childless marriage suddenly quite fruitful! You Mr. Roman, are now the father of Gibor, and I cannot begin to imagine what horrible state the world is in without it's presence. And yer gorgeous wife here ..."

He sent her a wink with his one unpatched eye. She shuddered.

"She is now the mother of Zachar. Congratulations."

The two stood, the woman still clutching her talon. She was amazingly beautiful, while he was a well-dressed man, just a few years her elder and still in his prime. They stopped holding hands, suddenly awkward showing affection. There was obvious tension between the two of them.

"Now we must attend to this invitation I received earlier ..." muttered the Mimic.

Spoiler: Show
Davy Jones has "My heart glows black (2)". The Mother of Zachar has "My beauty is unforgettable (2)". The Father of Zachar has an Automatic Gift that I cannot describe until its effects manifest.



THE UPPER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

The crew of the dining room suddenly looked shocked and froze at the handsome invader and the two women at his arm. Only their captain remained completely at ease, unshaken by the appearance of Tom right of thin air.

"You know, brother," Captain Steele said, tipping his sunglasses down slightly to give Tom a look with his piercing eyes. Tom was Cool, and he could recognize another student of the arts. The Captain had it down pat. He didn't miss a beat. "I think I do remember you. I reckon I seen you down in that pirate slash rebel haven down in Somalia about six or seven moons ago, right? You were working with some of them shady revolutionary chaps, the nice gentlemen with the large guns? I was checking up on some old family members down in those parts. I believe we played poker ..."

Tom could vaguely remember it. It surprised him even, he actually could remember that, though he hadn't remembered it at the time he planned this talk. He went in ready to just act like friends, and here was with fond memories of the guy. He met lots of people tending to his Estate and always being where he was most needed. Here he was, with a genuinely affable buddy he had indeed met in his past.

Steele took a good look at the two girls on Tom's arms. "Twins, eh?" he asked with a smirk. "Must be some sort of convention. There's two more of you birds down in the holds, though they are real monsters come the moonrise if you know what I mean, eh? Eh?"

Aeartsa laughed. Astraea gave a half-smile.

"Right-o," said Steele with a flourish. "Well, I don't know for what reason I have the pleasure of your company ... Tim was it? No, no ... Tom. Tom Dylan. With the fancy switchblade, man, would that I could see you do that Five Finger Fillet you did down in the rebel-camp. That was a thing of friggin' beauty."

"BOYS!" he cried to his crew. "Bring us some drinks, and something fruity with an umbrella for the ladies. Man, do I have a story to tell you. Pirates, monsters, gods and quite a few beautiful women, if you read." He winked at the girls.

The captain's subordinates ran about following the captain's orders. None of them noticed Blake among them, walking unseen as a shadow, flitting about from one secret to another. There were a lot of people on this ship. A large crew, a huge amount of passengers, and a number of local spirits native to the ship and its environs had all been press-ganged into servitude for Davy Jones. They all belonged to him now, and they did as his Nobles decreed.

Davy has a secret though. The secret spirits can always tell, and Blake speaks their cryptic language quite fluently. Davy Jones owes his freedom to the Excrucian Nara Salamundi, and she is still on the ship, walking amongst the crew and overseeing the conversion of the Laluthia from a cruise ship to a cruise-Chancel. And while her plan is perfect and well plotted, she doesn't suspect just how treacherous Davy Jones is.

He is planning to betray her. More than that, it is already in the works, an Imperial Miracle beginning to turn slowly towards her inevitable backstabbing. She doesn't see it coming at all, but already Jones' foul presence encircles her like a trap readying to spring.

Captain Steele on the other hand has only one secret he is keeping. Though he made his oaths of servitude to the dread pirate, he has a history with piracy he dares not even think about. His mind is steel, forged in the fires of childhood abuse and hardship. He was captured by pirates as a boy, raised by them and forced to work for them against his will. And though he freed himself and found luxury and leisure as a cruise-ship captain, and even found peace and happiness with his life and existence and a sort of wisdom in his later life, he still nurses in his heart a deep-routed hatred for pirates.

He couldn't turn down becoming the Viscount of Scalacor though.


THE CHAMBERS OF SOCIETY

"Your Familia has all entered the ship-Chancel of Davy Jones now, masssster" the Dark-born head of the hydra hisses. "They are now deep within his iron walls."

"It's a trap!" cried out the Light-born head, always working on his pop-culture impressions.

"The walls of it are impregnable, hardened against the world," whispered the Heaven-born head.

"Already, Mile Smile has found friends," whispers the Wild-born head. "He has many allies among the amusement park rides and the children. He is a creature of joy and pain, or pleasure and plastic. He is a monster, and he lurks among the kiddies waiting to snatch up their parents."

"Captain Steele wanted him off of the ship after that last middle-aged woman died on him," roared the Hell-born head. "And now he has his wish. Mile Smile is the only one of Davy Jones' Powers reaching out to the outside world at the moment. All the rest hide behind his hardened walls."

Tifon's phone rang. It was the head of his fan-club.


THE TOWER OF BARAKIEL

What the Angel had to show Roy was troubling.

Deep in a locked chamber of his starkly glorious tower, a tiny slice of Heaven built in the center of Atlantis, Barakiel brought the detective into a hidden room. There, in that sealed and forbidden room, was a rift in the Weirdling Wall. It burned with blue flame, a hole in Creation that led to the Lands Beyond. Tied like an icefisher was a rod and reel extending into nothingness.

Barakiel picked up the rod and began to reel in something. Something strange.

It was a withered wretch, a horrible creature clutching a lamp which held what could only be called it's soul. It led its way in the Lands Beyond, and Barakiel knew that by that creatures otherworldly lamp he would have the illumination he required. With a final yank he pulled it completely into this world.

"Before Canaan died he had one final moment of illumination," explained the Angel of Lightning. "While your soul reaches out and claims those on Earth you call 'hard-boiled', his soul reached to the Heavens like your Estate and brought light and wisdom in the world. Without him I missed a very treacherous shadow, but he warned me to set out the proper bait."

The Angel turned to the monster hanging from his hook. "Show me the discrepancy, thing!" Barakiel commanded.

And it obeyed. Raising its lamp in a vestigial limb, the light and shadows it cast on the wall of the Angler's room told the story of a great contradiction. Time shifted like tectonic plates, different timelines and dimensions smashing together. Realityquakes altered the flow of time and space, and through these fissures Excrucians could slip in.

Six Horseman rode in through the most recent Realityquake. That Breakthrough let in a whole squadron of Excrucians, led by the loathsome Dantalion Fisk. But among their number was another, one called Auguinare Gallows, a Strategist and half-brother to Fisk. He did not experience time in a linear fashion, and under Fisk's command, he rode back into history to alter its flow during the weakness in the world.

Two mortal pasts were altered. One was Cora, the new Power of Water.

"The other," explained the Angel, "was you."

The creature put down its lamp. Its images were expressive but unclear, giving a definite message but giving no certain knowledge. What had the Excrucians done to his past? How was he linked to the Power of Water? What was the purpose of all of these temporal shenanigans?

"It is the real mystery I have enNobled you for," finished Barakiel. "And if you do not figure it out before the Excrucians spring their trap, the whole of Creation will fall to their Abhorrent Blades.

Welcome to the Valde Bellum, Roy Brannigan. You are a pawn in this game I have promoted to a much higher position. Higher than King ... an Ace, perhaps. You are my ace-in-the-hole, Roy. You will solve this mystery and prevent the coming doom. I fear Davy Jones is another sign of the immanence of this disaster I foresee. Or perhaps he is simply a distraction.

Either way, the game is afoot!"
 

Insertname

Registered User
Validated User
Evelyn gyred and gimboled softly as she zarnted into the room and faloomphed down beside the couple. She tried to speak, but only a deep grotting burble emerged.

Something about the Jabberwocks was having an effect on her.

She tried again, and succeeded.

"Davy Jones, retired Dominus Aqua, Imperator," as she said the word Imperator, she simultaneously whispered 'Mimic', "Of old Estates, former prisoner of Barakiel, and now captain of the Laluthia, I have come to warn you that your life is in grave danger."

But when she tried to speak the name of his betrayer, of Nara Salamundi, all that came out was a burble.

Nara Salamundie had saved her once, and once was enough.
 

Delacroix

Registered User
Validated User
"I believe we played poker ..."
Tom looks straight into Steele's utterly trustworthy, familiar face, and, with an expression equally benign, observes, "I believe we're playing it right now, in fact."

He met lots of people tending to his Estate and always being where he was most needed. Here he was, with a genuinely affable buddy he had indeed met in his past.
He shrugs off his foreboding with a bright smile. "Anyway, you look like you've come up in the world since then. I'd have remembered a fine gent among the people I usually associate with, and believe me, there weren't any to be found. Welcome to the club. Who's your new employer? I came because I heard that there's a new order to overturn, and my friends, well..."

Steele took a good look at the two girls on Tom's arms. "Twins, eh?" he asked with a smirk. "Must be some sort of convention."
He squeezes Astraea's waist in a companionable way. "You can think of her as a kind of union rep. You're one of us now, and you've got perks, and you've also got dues."

"There's two more of you birds down in the holds, though they are real monsters come the moonrise if you know what I mean, eh? Eh?"

Aeartsa laughed
She's earned a squeeze too. Tom finds this one lingering, as she presses the curve of her hip against him and pins his questing hand with her own, before leading it interesting places.

One of the crewmen pop the cork of a bottle of champagne, the genteel beverage inexplicably out of place in the setting as its contents gently foam to the floor.

"Right-o," said Steele with a flourish. "Well, I don't know for what reason I have the pleasure of your company ... Tim was it? No, no ... Tom. Tom Dylan. With the fancy switchblade, man, would that I could see you do that Five Finger Fillet you did down in the rebel-camp. That was a thing of friggin' beauty."
"Just a party trick," Tom says modestly. "Who knows? If things get lively around here, you might get to see it again after all."

He says it in all earnest, with warmth and pleasure at the compliment. But there's a part of his mind that smirks to itself and lights up a cigarette in celebration.

"BOYS!" he cried to his crew. "Bring us some drinks, and something fruity with an umbrella for the ladies. Man, do I have a story to tell you. Pirates, monsters, gods and quite a few beautiful women, if you read." He winked at the girls.
"I'm all ears! Haven't heard from you in ages; it'd be a pleasure to get caught up." Tom accepts a leather flask of something fiery and sweet from the men. He takes a long swig and passes it to Aeartsa. "A good ripping adventure yarn'd be a treat right now. The only stories I've got of recent times are straight from Crazytown."

Spoiler: Show

I invoked the special effects Bond at one point. Guess where.
 

Maerok

Registered User
Validated User
SOCIETY

"Mile Smile, huh? Reminds me of a g- Nevermind. I'll look it up. Maybe save some cash by booking early. Or investing sooner." He had somehow transformed during the course of his talk with the Society Beast - now with glasses and all the assorted accoutrement of his costume. But there was still his scent which the Anchor knew thoroughly. And somewhere along the lines his couch had disappeared as it often does.

Tifon sat cross-legged on the floor. His phone was already in hand to intercept the coming call before the first ring. It was the sort of technique that threw telemarketers off their game and into a downward spiral of a sales pitch. He put out a hand to halt the conversation but found that to be rather rude so he turned the gesture into sort of wafting motion to keep the creature at least preoccupied. As soon as his fan called, the Power answered. "Hello dear and what can I do for you on this fine day?"
 
Last edited:

Ax_

Registered User
Validated User
THE UPPER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

The crew of the dining room suddenly looked shocked and froze at the handsome invader and the two women at his arm. Only their captain remained completely at ease, unshaken by the appearance of Tom right of thin air.

"You know, brother," Captain Steele said, tipping his sunglasses down slightly to give Tom a look with his piercing eyes. Tom was Cool, and he could recognize another student of the arts. The Captain had it down pat. He didn't miss a beat. "I think I do remember you. I reckon I seen you down in that pirate slash rebel haven down in Somalia about six or seven moons ago, right? You were working with some of them shady revolutionary chaps, the nice gentlemen with the large guns? I was checking up on some old family members down in those parts. I believe we played poker ..."

Tom could vaguely remember it. It surprised him even, he actually could remember that, though he hadn't remembered it at the time he planned this talk. He went in ready to just act like friends, and here was with fond memories of the guy. He met lots of people tending to his Estate and always being where he was most needed. Here he was, with a genuinely affable buddy he had indeed met in his past.

Steele took a good look at the two girls on Tom's arms. "Twins, eh?" he asked with a smirk. "Must be some sort of convention. There's two more of you birds down in the holds, though they are real monsters come the moonrise if you know what I mean, eh? Eh?"

Aeartsa laughed. Astraea gave a half-smile.

"Right-o," said Steele with a flourish. "Well, I don't know for what reason I have the pleasure of your company ... Tim was it? No, no ... Tom. Tom Dylan. With the fancy switchblade, man, would that I could see you do that Five Finger Fillet you did down in the rebel-camp. That was a thing of friggin' beauty."

"BOYS!" he cried to his crew. "Bring us some drinks, and something fruity with an umbrella for the ladies. Man, do I have a story to tell you. Pirates, monsters, gods and quite a few beautiful women, if you read." He winked at the girls.
What a pathetic man...

The captain's subordinates ran about following the captain's orders. None of them noticed Blake among them, walking unseen as a shadow, flitting about from one secret to another. There were a lot of people on this ship. A large crew, a huge amount of passengers, and a number of local spirits native to the ship and its environs had all been press-ganged into servitude for Davy Jones. They all belonged to him now, and they did as his Nobles decreed.
That gets a frown from him - yet still, not even the spirits in the Chancel can spread the news of where he is, despite their highly questionable loyalty.
He walks in the lands of secrecy, and there is no possibility for anyone to tell that he's even here.

Davy has a secret though. The secret spirits can always tell, and Blake speaks their cryptic language quite fluently. Davy Jones owes his freedom to the Excrucian Nara Salamundi, and she is still on the ship, walking amongst the crew and overseeing the conversion of the Laluthia from a cruise ship to a cruise-Chancel. And while her plan is perfect and well plotted, she doesn't suspect just how treacherous Davy Jones is.

He is planning to betray her. More than that, it is already in the works, an Imperial Miracle beginning to turn slowly towards her inevitable backstabbing. She doesn't see it coming at all, but already Jones' foul presence encircles her like a trap readying to spring.
And as Blake hears this, his face splits into a grin, wonderfully pleased.
My my, what a tangled web we weave.

Blake fully approves - let the Excrucians tear themselves to pieces with internal strife, let Imperial Miracles rain down upon them all and shatter their host.
But a flash of stars in beautiful eyes, belonging to a woman with long legs, flash before his inner eye, and the smile disappears, briefly.
...Well, maybe not all Excrucians.
There is one he'd rather see safe.

He shakes his head, getting back to focusing on what's needed.
Can't think of Teja right now - she's probably not even on Earth anyway, so he's not likely to meet her again any time soon.
Yeah.
That's it.

Captain Steele on the other hand has only one secret he is keeping. Though he made his oaths of servitude to the dread pirate, he has a history with piracy he dares not even think about. His mind is steel, forged in the fires of childhood abuse and hardship. He was captured by pirates as a boy, raised by them and forced to work for them against his will. And though he freed himself and found luxury and leisure as a cruise-ship captain, and even found peace and happiness with his life and existence and a sort of wisdom in his later life, he still nurses in his heart a deep-routed hatred for pirates.

He couldn't turn down becoming the Viscount of Scalacor though.
Well now, what is this?
Dear old Steele doesn't like piracy, eh?
Truly, he was pathetic, due to his hatred of pirates yet still bending knee to a pirate-appearing Mimic.
Such a nice little weakness, to know about.

One nice little crack to exploit, and Blake has no doubt it will be needed.
They're the enemy.


Now, to get to work
He gently reaches down, and traces his hand through a small crack on the wall.
As he does, no one ever remembers it having been there, nor can they notice it's absence, even to the point of even thinking that they might have forgotten something.
It is, quite simply, not possible.

As he does, the hole also seems to twist, and turn, and otherwise act just as he wants it, even if no one can notice it.

Spoiler: Show

So, let's start here.
I want to use a Persona Miracle, to give the hole-spirit here a Wound, an Affliction which would basically state "I can't be noticed!", worded so that it includes anyone who would go against us, so absolutely no one can even know this is a thing they can notice.
Davy Jones is not going to notice what I'm doing in this Chancel, and neither are his Nobles or anyone else that would inform him.

After that, I'd like to make it, well, bigger, for us, but not for any potential enemies.
Finally, I'd like this hole to not have solitude with an opening outside this Chancel.
Basically, I want to connect them with each other, so we can head inside without having to deal with the massive Chancel defense, if we really needed to do this.
Not anywhere in our Chancel, obviously, because I'm not going to make it that obvious!
Would that work?
 

Inqy

World Breaker's Sigh
Validated User
Deep in a locked chamber of his starkly glorious tower, a tiny slice of Heaven built in the center of Atlantis, Barakiel brought the detective into a hidden room. There, in that sealed and forbidden room, was a rift in the Weirdling Wall. It burned with blue flame, a hole in Creation that led to the Lands Beyond. Tied like an icefisher was a rod and reel extending into nothingness.

Barakiel picked up the rod and began to reel in something. Something strange.

It was a withered wretch, a horrible creature clutching a lamp which held what could only be called it's soul. It led its way in the Lands Beyond, and Barakiel knew that by that creatures otherworldly lamp he would have the illumination he required. With a final yank he pulled it completely into this world.

"Before Canaan died he had one final moment of illumination," explained the Angel of Lightning. "While your soul reaches out and claims those on Earth you call 'hard-boiled', his soul reached to the Heavens like your Estate and brought light and wisdom in the world. Without him I missed a very treacherous shadow, but he warned me to set out the proper bait."
“Bait, huh?” Roy said, taking a half-step back from the angel and the 'bait'. Roy was beginning to wonder whether his trust in the angel had been misplaced. Too late to back out now, of course, he’d left Hannigan and Flannigan in the care of servants of the tower for one thing. Best just to press on for now.

“What *is* it? Is this thing with the lantern one of them, what did Canaan call em, Excrucians?”

Six Horseman rode in through the most recent Realityquake. That Breakthrough let in a whole squadron of Excrucians, led by the loathsome Dantalion Fisk. But among their number was another, one called Auguinare Gallows, a Strategist and half-brother to Fisk. He did not experience time in a linear fashion, and under Fisk's command, he rode back into history to alter its flow during the weakness in the world.
“Dantalion Fisk.” Roy memorised them name as he watched the shadows on the wall, eyes flickering from one shadow to the next. Then he hit upon the second rider.

...He was a cop. Roy couldn’t place the uniform, or the accent, but the guy just had the look of a policeman about him. He’d certainly got the looming down to pat. It was impressive, the way he always managed to stand so that the light was behind him, silhouetting his form. He wasn’t tall, but every time you looked to him you found yourself looking up, while your sins looked back at you. Yeah well, there were ways of dealing with cops like that, and whatever that girl he was haranguing had done if it was something legit he’d have arrested her by now. Normally throwing the book at a police officer was a fine way to get the shit kicked out of you in private but *this* cop, Roy reckoned, would play by the rules...
*

”Well I *was* here for the girl. And you are right, I cannot lawfully detain her yet.” The police officer sighed with annoyance. “What did you say your name was, barman? Roy? You, I will remember.” The cop stared at Roy for a few seconds, studying Roy’s appearance, committing it to memory. “We will meet again.”

He turned around and left, walking off into the night.


*

...Back in those days, the Darla was just getting started and the governments of the world still fancied themselves with a chance. Heck rumour was that Washington was making some headway. Law and order on the west coast had completely broken down by that point, officially there was still a police force but all of them were in the Darla’s pocket. Well all of them but Constable Auguinare Gallows. Looking back on it, Roy wondered why he didn’t figure something was up with that guy. Normal police officers don’t have starry voids for eyes or ride black stallions that rode through the world as a searing brand of ash and darkness. Not that there was anything normal about these times, and the guy had access to everything. Weapons, supplies, intel on the Darla’s movements. He couldn’t act in public without alerting the dark goddess to his presence, couldn’t be part of society. But hey, he had a washed up former cop in the form of Roy Brannigan who made a perfect smokescreen, and if he was essentially the dupe and doomed to whatever inventive punishment the Darla could think up when he inevitably got caught, well Gallows had explained about the greater good.


Two mortal pasts were altered. One was Cora, the new Power of Water.

"The other," explained the Angel, "was you."
“Cora? Wait, was she the water-lady who was making out with Canaan? The one on trial. This just gets better and bet-“

(wait, she did recognise me. Was it from... yeah, I *knew* I’d seen her face somewhere! But how does *she* remember that? It never happened.)

"It is the real mystery I have enNobled you for," finished Barakiel. "And if you do not figure it out before the Excrucians spring their trap, the whole of Creation will fall to their Abhorrent Blades.

Welcome to the Valde Bellum, Roy Brannigan. You are a pawn in this game I have promoted to a much higher position. Higher than King ... an Ace, perhaps. You are my ace-in-the-hole, Roy. You will solve this mystery and prevent the coming doom. I fear Davy Jones is another sign of the immanence of this disaster I foresee. Or perhaps he is simply a distraction.

Either way, the game is afoot!"
“Gallows... well he’s a policeman.” Roy told the angel, his voice low and quiet. “I don’t really remember the details, not all the time. It’s like remembering something that never really happened. Honestly, I kind of assumed that it was you that had changed things. I mean you’re the one sending me all the post it notes right? Guess not.” Roy looked thoughtful for a second. “Anyway Gallows, well we kind of bumped into each other at a bar. I don’t really- damn. I’ll look into it. You have my word on that. War or no war that guy’s trouble and he never makes it quick.”

*That abominable watch of his again. All scorched and blackened and cracked. The fourth hand winding back and back. There were rules, Gallows’d said. Something about death. Something about deserving it. The world was winking out all around him and it was getting cold...*

“Still, I don’t want to track Gallows down without knowing his game first. Seems to me I’d best talk to Cora. What do you think sir?”

Spoiler: Show
Some slight cheating on the roleplaying an Excrucian rule. If you want me to delete the dialogue I will. If bits and pieces of that seem to contradict the timeline I gave you, well it's impossible to remember a single version of what really happened or which bits of what Roy remembers are actually current for this timeline and which bits might as well just be lies.
 
Last edited:

JaneBond

Saint of Obscurity
Validated User
THE LOWER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

Following the twin Jabberwocks down the underhalls of the warping newborn Chancel, Evelyn and Darla could see the arguing monsters were heading towards a much greater room. A throne-room, crafted of waterlogged wood, crawling with crustaceans and miniature jabberwocks, loomed far above them. In it, the hulking monsters they followed seemed tiny themselves. Before them was a massive throne crafted from a ship's wheel and hung with sunken treasure.

On it sat the master of this Chancel, the mighty Davy Jones himself. The old, wretched pirate seemed barely human atop his chair, a mass of nonsensical body parts cloaked in the blackness of his own heart and some filthy clothes. A hook rose from his captain's jacket, his face enshrouded behind his ratty beard.

Before him stood two people, or rather, nascent Nobles. They were husband and wife, and they knelt hand in hand, their rings held tight together, as if just remarried by the Excrucian. They did not look up as the jabberwocks approached and flanked Jones. They were enthralled by the glory of their new master, completely taken in by his horrible presence.

"I have a present for ye, my pretty pretty ..." cooed the monstrous Mimic. He reached inside a clam-shaped creature clinging to the end of his shoelaces and handed the amazingly beautiful woman in front of him a black animal talon, the size of a sword. It warbled with gravity, evidently crafted of stable dark matter. Her husband moved protectively, but Jones held him back without even trying. He had no ill will for the woman, and she could sense it so he took the gift graciously.

"It is the Talon of the Wyrm of Harumaph, it is" hissed Davy Jones with a burble. The twin jabberwocks burbled along in sympathy. "It will allow ye to rend time and space it will, he he he."

"I thank you, Davy Jones," said the woman.

"Yes, you have been ... um ...," her husband stammered, nervous in front of the alien pirate. "Very merciful."

"Aye, aye, I have," Jones laughed. "I have given ye powers far above yer ken. And, I have made yer childless marriage suddenly quite fruitful! You Mr. Roman, are now the father of Gibor, and I cannot begin to imagine what horrible state the world is in without it's presence. And yer gorgeous wife here ..."

He sent her a wink with his one unpatched eye. She shuddered.

"She is now the mother of Zachar. Congratulations."

The two stood, the woman still clutching her talon. She was amazingly beautiful, while he was a well-dressed man, just a few years her elder and still in his prime. They stopped holding hands, suddenly awkward showing affection. There was obvious tension between the two of them.

"Now we must attend to this invitation I received earlier ..." muttered the Mimic.
Evelyn gyred and gimboled softly as she zarnted into the room and faloomphed down beside the couple. She tried to speak, but only a deep grotting burble emerged.

Something about the Jabberwocks was having an effect on her.

She tried again, and succeeded.

"Davy Jones, retired Dominus Aqua, Imperator," as she said the word Imperator, she simultaneously whispered 'Mimic', "Of old Estates, former prisoner of Barakiel, and now captain of the Laluthia, I have come to warn you that your life is in grave danger."

But when she tried to speak the name of his betrayer, of Nara Salamundi, all that came out was a burble.

Nara Salamundie had saved her once, and once was enough.

Darla scoffed as the mannequin copied the position of the husband and wife team kneeling before Davy Jones. She walked up beside Evelyn and shot her an icy glare.

"You're still anointed with my waters of stealth," she chided. "You cannot be seen by Davy Jones or his minions, you foolish thing. Though it's good to know you would turncoat and sell me out to the Mimic any time you felt like it. Good to know, indeed."

Walking around the Excrucian and his jabberwock guards, she began to summon the aquatic essence to her hands, which began to glow. She had become used to the abstract and surreal nature of miracles as Tifon and now that she was in the body of a Regal she had every intention to use it properly.

In her hand appeared a eyedropper cloaked in the continued secrecy of her previous great act of sorcery. She waved her one glowing hand beside the right part of Davy Jones' hideous head and then unsqueezed the ball on the dropper near his left, sucking some sort of liquid from his noxious ear. The slimy brown "water" sucked into the eyedropper and glowed in Darla's delicate hand.

"I would like to observe Jones longer, but I see any time I spend with you Miss Adams is a liability. You would switch sides in heart-beat if you decided to imitate our enemies. And now that I am on Barakiel's side, and you are clearly not, I have no reason to confide in you any longer.

But I shan't uncloak you yet. Nobody on this forsaken ship will see you Evelyn, so it's best you leave Davy Jones and his Nobles alone. If we can survive your treachery, then the Angel will have his prisoner again sooner rather than later."

And with that she walked out of the room, still ignored by the jabberwocks, the husband and wife, and the Mimic.

Spoiler: Show
I never stopped sustaining the Major Motion that cloaks us in secrecy from Jones and his minions, so they don't see Evelyn unless I want them to.

Doing a Lesser Enchantment of Water on some of Davy Jones' memories, specifically his thought-records for the last few days. Hopefully he has been going over his plan in that head of his. That costs 1 PMP. Then I do a Lesser Motion of Water to move the memory-liquid into my dropper, which costs 1 DMP. Hopefully since this is past thoughts, ones he's repeated in his mind a bunch, Jones won't miss a few drops of his recent memories.
 

Insertname

Registered User
Validated User
"Anointed?" something in Evelyn liked the sound of that, anointed by Darla's waters...

"Slave of Cora," she says, "If Nara succeeds in destroying the former master of your Estate, then she will succeed where you failed. I suppose that will come as no surprise, though. She has the foresight to plan, after all. The preservation of Davy Jones's life is paramount to the survival of Creation, and to your own survival."

Evelyn whiffles in front of Darla in less than a heartbeat, standing there in the form of Cora.

"But, I suppose it won't be the first time you've let another decide your life for you, will it?"

Evelyn is becoming slowly aware of what she is doing... despite all the love she feels in her heart, love even for the monstrous Darla who would do such cruelty unto Benjamin, she was reflecting Darla's own endless hatred back at her.

She would have to adapt to being this mirror...

Spoiler: Show
Darla scoffed as the mannequin copied the position of the husband and wife team kneeling before Davy Jones. She walked up beside Evelyn and shot her an icy glare.
Should note that Evelyn does not kneel. She would actually be dharmically incapable of kneeling before an Imperator.
And she's not copying everyone these days anyways.
 

Aincumis

Shichibukai
Validated User
UPPER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

As Blake makes and empowers his tiny crack in the ship's defenses, Tom continues to parlay with Captain Steele. Drinks arrive and Steele drinks in a most flamboyant fashion, wrapping an arm around Aeartsa and sipping his glass with his pinky out. Also, at some time during the imbibing, he managed to light a cigarette. The Power of Crime snorts rudely at the magic trick.

"Well, there I am," began the captain, his sunglasses shining in the lamplight. "Manning my station, making sure everyone on this big ol' boat has a smashing good time, mingling with the guests, swapping stories, sharing drinks ... sorta like we are now. When suddenly the day I've been dreading my whole life comes knocking.

Pirates.

Only these aren't ordinary sea-bandits looking for hostages or loot, oh no! These are pirates from outside of this whole freakin' world. Alien pirates, with star-filled eyes, dripping black flowers all over my swabbed deck. They came for me. They knew me by name, they sorted through the crew and passenger list calling names as they locked everyone else in the lower decks.

Then He came. Davy Jones.

They lined us up and this ugly, mish-mash of a monster sniffs us all, like we're a ripe tomato or something. These pirates, they say this Jones blighter is going to give us some gift, but the freak can't even see us. Well, the girl of the aliens, she uses some fire-magic and burns away something from us, and suddenly Jones is back to the assembly line, judging us.

He gave me this."

Suddenly the faint purple light you saw coming from his breast seems to grow brighter and brighter, until this warm lavender light fills the room.

"Scalacor," Captain Steele explains. "The Light of the Heart. I can see yours too, Tommy my boy. And everyone's. Whether you're a good person, a bad one, whether you hold hate or love in your heart, I can see the colours as clear as the sun in the sky. Could be useful I s'pose."

He took a sip of his drink.

"Meanwhile, I always knew there was something more to you than just the best-looking guy in Somalia at the time. What's your deal? You the King of Rebellion, or the Sultan of Insubordination? Either way, I'm not looking to introduce you to my crew anytime soon, Tommy, if'n you don't mind."


LOWER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

Davy, the Jabberwocks and the married Powers of Zachar and Gibor do not notice as the two feminine figures begin to argue in the halls just outside the throne-room. Cloaked in that magical water, the two were quite capable of bickering without alerting anyone to their presence.

But they did hear a set of footsteps heading their way. Very nice running shoes were padding their way at a leisurely pace towards them. After it was within a stone's throw of them, a cigarette lighter turned on and a man used the flame to spark a spliff in his mouth. Shaking out the lighter, the very briefly illuminated man took a deep breath of smoke, held it, and then exhaled.

A creature like a clam was attached to his shoelaces, very similar to the creatures on the end of Jones' shoes as well. It opens it's mouth and the man puts his lighter inside of it.

"Well well well, what have we here?"

He focused his red eyes on Evelyn and Darla, clearly aware of them. He took another drag and leaned on the wooden walls in the hallway just outside the Throne Room, expecting an explanation.


CHAMBERS OF SOCIETY

"When," came the voice of Isa Asaroc over the phone. "Are we finally going to get together at Syratto's? I'd say is now a good time, or can you make some time for me, but we both know the symantic confusion that would cause. And the feelings that could be hurt."

She made a mock sniffle over the cell.

"I'll be waiting."

The Society-Beast licked its many lips.


THE TOWER OF BARAKIEL

"I'm afraid that I cannot be of much help," intoned Barakiel with a polite but awkward smile. "The mortal world is a strange and foreign to me, which is why the Beyonders attack the fabric of reality there. It is also why a creature from on high such as my self would descend to this mortal world and choose residents of it to do my bidding there.

Now that you are the Power of Lightning you are a part of me. I shall always be watching. I can't always help, such as right now. I can set you on the right path, and you can be sure the eyes of Heaven are upon you. But what I cannot promise is that I can see you through to the end. In that regard you have only to trust in yourself as I trust in you.

Your brothers and sisters are all on Davy Jones' tail, on a ship somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. My wings wrap around the whole world, protecting all of society. My waters cover three quarters of the globe, while always a half of the world is protected in my darkness. But you, Roy, you are the flash of light in that darkness. You must strike, and strike true, and set into balance what has been put off kilter."

Barakiel politely shooes Roy out of the room with the lamp-thing. "Throwing it back is always the hardest part," he admits with a smile, before closing the door in the detective's face. Screams could be heard on the other side, but whether they belonged to the angel or the lamp-thing was hard to tell.
 

Ax_

Registered User
Validated User
UPPER DECKS OF THE LALUTHIA

As Blake makes and empowers his tiny crack in the ship's defenses, Tom continues to parlay with Captain Steele.
And Blake smiles as his work is done, an opening that none who would tell Davy Jones or any other person who would ruin this is revealed.
His smile is wide.

Drinks arrive and Steele drinks in a most flamboyant fashion, wrapping an arm around Aeartsa and sipping his glass with his pinky out. Also, at some time during the imbibing, he managed to light a cigarette. The Power of Crime snorts rudely at the magic trick.
Blake is of much the same opinion as the Lady of Crime in this - this doesn't impress him.
Granted, part of that is that it's very hard to make him feel something, when he doesn't want to.
...Unless you're a certain Excrucian Warmain lady, but he feels instinctively that it is cheating to bring her up, somehow, so he doesn't.

Instead, he looks at the many spirits of hidden things, and smiles down at them
"Tell me, my servants, is there any member of this crew that would be willing to serve another, should they get away from this man?
Any crewmember who would be willing to say what we want him to, in exchange for vengeance at what has been wrought upon him and his fellows, if we had offered it before this so-called 'captain' interfered?"

Words about serving a pirate would probably be far more effective by someone who was thought to be on your own side.

After all.
Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirates life for thee...

Spoiler: Show

I'm asking my Estate this - given they're hanging around here, it should be more than possible to set this up.
It'd really help if there is a crewmember who could tell Steele he's serving a pirate, if we ever need to throw down, instead of it having to come from us.


"Well, there I am," began the captain, his sunglasses shining in the lamplight. "Manning my station, making sure everyone on this big ol' boat has a smashing good time, mingling with the guests, swapping stories, sharing drinks ... sorta like we are now. When suddenly the day I've been dreading my whole life comes knocking.

Pirates.
Only these aren't ordinary sea-bandits looking for hostages or loot, oh no! These are pirates from outside of this whole freakin' world. Alien pirates, with star-filled eyes, dripping black flowers all over my swabbed deck. They came for me. They knew me by name, they sorted through the crew and passenger list calling names as they locked everyone else in the lower decks.

Then He came. Davy Jones.

They lined us up and this ugly, mish-mash of a monster sniffs us all, like we're a ripe tomato or something. These pirates, they say this Jones blighter is going to give us some gift, but the freak can't even see us. Well, the girl of the aliens, she uses some fire-magic and burns away something from us, and suddenly Jones is back to the assembly line, judging us.

He gave me this."

Suddenly the faint purple light you saw coming from his breast seems to grow brighter and brighter, until this warm lavender light fills the room.
Blake looks on, though his mind, soul and emotions in general are still not affected.
He keeps a small smirk, though, because the bitterness in this man is bound to be helpful in their mission.
Keep reminding yourself of how much you hate pirates, Steele.
It'll only make everything work out better, when what needs to happen is done.

"Scalacor," Captain Steele explains. "The Light of the Heart. I can see yours too, Tommy my boy. And everyone's. Whether you're a good person, a bad one, whether you hold hate or love in your heart, I can see the colours as clear as the sun in the sky. Could be useful I s'pose."

He took a sip of his drink.

"Meanwhile, I always knew there was something more to you than just the best-looking guy in Somalia at the time. What's your deal? You the King of Rebellion, or the Sultan of Insubordination? Either way, I'm not looking to introduce you to my crew anytime soon, Tommy, if'n you don't mind."
The Noble of Night raises an eyebrow at some hesitation there
Well, now, maybe there would be things of interest in finding out how that works.

Still, there's been some interesting pieces of information gathered here, and adding a weakness that won't be noticed by an enemy is very handy, as well.
He takes a step back, and after a quick glance at Tom and the others, step back, preparing to head back out.
 
Top Bottom