logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yog said:
:3. Just wait, comrades.gideon020 said:
Also, she's the Goddamn Defiler.
Fiend: Thread Two, the Rethreading [Exalted/Worm]
- Thread starter logiccosmic
- Start date
Also, she's the Goddamn Defiler.
My bad, but there are two British hero teams. One that works for the government, and one that tries to portray itself as hip and cool and independent of the British government. He funds the latter one.Salbazier said:
Undead-Spaceman
Skeleton Supreme
- Location
- Somewhere in Orbit
They're called the King's Men I think.The Magister said:
Anything that goes down after this is all Numberman's fault. Manipulating a scared confused 15 year old girl into being the ruthless terror of the night is a terrible, unbelievably awful idea. Clearly they're either really confident in their safety, or just have been fooled by their powers into thinking this can in no way horribly backfire on them.
Well it really all depends on whether or not she comes to agree with their agenda. Having Taylor around and growing in power actually makes their goals more likely to succeed, and thus makes them seem like a better option than they normally would be. You can only complain so much when you are manipulated into saving the world.Zefferen said:
No, I recheck the Interlude. He donate (anonymously) to All King's Men and they are not the 'cooler' British team. I still can't remember the name, but I remember they are said as 'trying to portray themselves as cooler than All King's Men' so the 'cool'/card themed team are not AKM. Unless I misremember things, of course.mc2rpg said:
EDIT: The 'cooler' team are called Suits. Also sorry, I was meant to say you are right that Number Man fund heroes, you just got the team wrong. The Suits have their fund from Protectorate (though it is possible NM donate to them just as he donate to AKM)
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Heh. I always called it Rationalization 6 (I'm doing the right thing 3).
Heh. Based in NY. Or employed by a group that sneers at the international label.
With a few more Ebon Dragon Charms, she could make the gangs self destruct.
With a few more Ebon Dragon Charms, she could make the gangs self destruct.
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Spoiler: Who needs charms?Robotninja said:
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
:3Rask said:
She will get a team, eventually. Don't worry.
And chided for effectiveness, not so much lol.
There is no need to worry about the 50 year warning. It will just feed into her self-justification regarding the Endbringers. Now she KNOWS that someone important in the cape world thinks the Endbringers are ultimately going to win. Suddenly it is absolutely imperative that she does whatever it takes to help fight them. What if being a hero and being a bit weaker is what lets them win in the end.Rask said:
Or go horribly, horribly, right. Ebon Dragon And Malfeas Charms means you will wind up running society the way they want you to. The alternatives don't bear thinking about.
Khaos
Baguette, wine and cheese
You don't read Worm, do you?Jerry Finch said:
UrsaTempest
Don't Panic!
Even without Exalted amplification, Taylor's in original Worm is indeed full-blooded Heroic Mortal, in Exalted sense.
Hmm... I can't quite remember the exact timeline, but...
Wasn't the Travelers around NYC at some point before canon? Are they currently in the city, already in Coil's employee in Brockton Bay, or have they yet to arrive? What are the chances of a Charm being able to help Noelle out? Well, even without something to help cure or control Noelle, Tayor's now aware of her anti-precog power, so if that gets out, the Travelers may want to hang around her for a while anyways, what with their Simurgh paranoia and all...
Also, doesn't Accord currently control a good portion of NYC... Wonder if he'll see Taylor as a force for order or chaos? On the one hand, she's operating around his place without permission and killing people. On the other, she's destroying the gangs, who can be argued as forces enabling chaos, thus the argument can be made that she's contributing to order instead... Be interesting either way...
Wasn't the Travelers around NYC at some point before canon? Are they currently in the city, already in Coil's employee in Brockton Bay, or have they yet to arrive? What are the chances of a Charm being able to help Noelle out? Well, even without something to help cure or control Noelle, Tayor's now aware of her anti-precog power, so if that gets out, the Travelers may want to hang around her for a while anyways, what with their Simurgh paranoia and all...
Also, doesn't Accord currently control a good portion of NYC... Wonder if he'll see Taylor as a force for order or chaos? On the one hand, she's operating around his place without permission and killing people. On the other, she's destroying the gangs, who can be argued as forces enabling chaos, thus the argument can be made that she's contributing to order instead... Be interesting either way...
Taylor is so clearly a force for chaos in Accord's eyes that it is painful to think otherwise. She randomly gains new powers and she leaves bloody vomit covered messed behind when she kills people. Until he sees her dance or do something else that is extremely orderly he is going to want her out of his city. It doesn't help that he assumes that fire users are chaotic and unbalanced sight unseen either, so if he finds out her identity as Defiler he will like her even less.
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Accord is in Boston, guys. Trust me, I would have noted him when Taylor came into the city if he had been in NYC.
Khaos
Baguette, wine and cheese
You should read it fast, let me just say that being canon!Taylor is suffering.Jerry Finch said:
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ochre Fountain 4.10
The Number Man arrived, at what could only be precisely on time. His taxi pulled up, disgorging him, and without even a word, drove away. He must have paid his fare on the way over.
He nodded to me, and I joined him in walking into the museum. Overcast and a weekday, it was nearly empty. We both paid $20 for a ticket, and as I followed him again, we walked left into the Greek and Roman section. I stopped, surprised. Had he figured out what I was? What the spider had said? I saw him turning, and hurried to catch up. We passed right through the section, and ended up in the section called Africa, Oceania, and the Americas.
Odd statuary, and cloth hangings primarily decorate the area. The Number Man stopped in front of one, squaring in front of it. He inclined his head to me as I stopped next to him.
"This is the least traversed part of the museum, and from here, including the glass on the cases, we will see anyone who wishes to interrupt our conversation."
I nodded, relieved he hadn't powered out another secret. "I wanted to talk again."
"About our previous conversation, I presume."
"Yes," I said. I paused, steadying myself with a breath.
"I can see the benefits to being labeled a villain, or using their methods. But, I still don't want to be a villain," I answered him.
He nodded, and asked, "Which will be more effective? Hero, where you are under the thumb of a PRT director, or villain, where you make your own choices? Can you stand-by, letting people be bullied?"
I turned with a glare at his attempt to goad me, and he raised his hands up.
"I'm sorry," twinge, "But it's true. You won't let people be taken advantage of. It's your nature."
"I don't want to kill people," I stated, quietly but emphatically.
"I didn't think you did. But if there is an innocent life on the line, if they will go out and harm more people, what if..." he trailed off. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, but it was effective.
"Yes," I whispered.
"What if it makes you stronger, makes you more likely to defeat an Endbringer?"
"Yes," I said more clearly. No lies from him that time. "I do want to know more about them. You said 50 years?"
"I did. Look at what Leviathan did to Japan. An entire country, sundered. Why? Will it happen again? When will it happen again?"
I stared at the statue, thinking. Over 8 million people had died, and twice that number displaced when Leviathan nearly liquefied the westernmost island of Japan. Or what Behemoth had done to Switzerland, what Simurgh did every time she showed up.
"And in 50 years," I clarified.
"Or earlier. The worst prediction made so far was within 14 years."
I wouldn't even be 30 by then.
"So, what will you do?"
"What I have to," I answered, both tired and filled with resolve.
"You don't have to be a conventional villain, you know. Or even a villain. An anti-villain, if you will. Only attacking the villains. Pulling people from underneath their thumb, and taking those resources you can for your own. My point is that you shouldn't let yourself be tied down or restrained by the conventional heroes. You need to be stronger."
"Didn't you say you worked with villains? That you handled their money?" I asked, curious that he was going against his clients.
"Yes. But, the vast majority aren't. And, so long as I don't give you any support, I do not have to give any one else any support."
"You have something in mind, then," I stated.
"I do," he admitted, and elaborated, "You have already knocked the Bloods into a frenzy. Their rival gang, the Crips, are likely to try to take advantage of the situation, and for their benefit only."
"And?"
"If I make my guess correctly, you incapacitated the leaders of a group of Bloods on Tuesday night, and then stole their money while destroying their drugs. A similar action would incite the Crips, and possibly cause them to blame each other, allowing you more time to destabilize them, in addition to providing you with additional funding."
"And what is your to benefit, as an accountant, from me stealing more money?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Hand me cash, and I will turn it into clean money. A bank account you have access to, and I can take the funds out of it, and return it clean. I also have contacts, and can make arrangements."
"And your benefit," I repeated.
"I take the majority of the profit I make, using your money in the interim, while it is being cleaned. You do get a small benefit from that as well."
I nodded. "So, say if I wanted ID, or weapons -"
"I can arrange that, if only for now. I am generally not so available, however you have caught my interest, and my support is necessary at this juncture."
"So in the future -"
"It would be primarily up to you, yes."
"So, if I handed you a list, I could get certain items, and you take the money now?"
"Yes. However, I'd prefer to discuss this in a place that is a bit more private, especially if it concerns a disguise or costume."
"Where to, then?"
He led me away, silent. We exited the museum, and he waved down a cab. As we got in, he whispered into the cabbies ear. I started to speak, but he shook his hand, standing me down. After a quick, silent ride, which seemed very uncomfortable for the driver, we exited, the Number Man handing him some cash.
We had arrived at a small restaurant, with not but small green lettering on the door. It's front was primarily glass, and I didn't see much of a line. The Number Man walked in, nodded to the maitre d', for he could only be that as dressed up as he was, and picked us a table.
He opened his briefcase, and handed me a pen and paper. Bemused, I looked up. "Costume ideas."
I looked behind us, and he cleared his throat. "I picked this spot, again for the view of approaching people. I will warn you."
"Thank you." I tapped the pen, thinking. "If I ever have to use a bigger form, I'll destroy my costume. I think-"
He held up his hand, as the waiter came over. He spoke in a language I couldn't recognize, and the waiter left. "Lunch is on me, to signify our new relationship."
"Thank you," I repeated. "I was thinking that I can't really have an actual costume, since the last time I went full scale, I destroyed my clothes."
"Understandable. I would suggest a mask, if only so you wouldn't have to worried about changing shape to disguise yourself."
I didn't correct him on his misconception. The waiter returned with a bottle of water, which bubbled. Odd. I started doodling for a moment, before inspiration struck. On a fresh sheet, I quickly sketched a design, relatively easily. A legend for color, and I handed it over. He nodded, and asked, "Material?"
"Preferably bulletproof."
"Anything else?"
I nodded, and looking behind me, opened my backpack, handing it over to him. "I'd appreciate knowing what kinds of pistols these are, and what ammunition to buy for them."
As if it were perfectly natural to look through a girl's backpack at her pistols, he nodded, rustling through. "A Glock 17, and a 1911. I'm not sure on the make of the later. 9mm and .45 on each. I would suggest adding ammunition to the list, as well as manuals."
Lunch arrived, and I added to a piece of paper creatively title, 'List.' Lunch turned out to be a pale soup, which the Number Man identified as 'Vichyssoise,' and a salad called 'Nicoise.' Good, but tuna with salad was very odd. I finished my lunch quickly, and then finished the list, and handed it to him. He scanned it, quickly, and quoted a number. I suppressed a wince, and riffled through my backpack, counting out bills. He passed his briefcase over, and I placed the bills inside.
"Call the number, and I will have it delivered to the address you specify. Anytime after 5 will be fine. Once you have more funding, call, and we will set up accounts, if you want to."
I nodded, and rose. He rose with me, and I left, to go shopping with my remaining money.
I was down to under $500. My clothing purchases, along with a pair of suitcases to carry them with, weren't cheap, but had only amounted to under a thousand. Most of my money had gone to the Number Man. I now had plenty of dark blue clothing and jeans, primarily with bronze designs. I had shopped around, not wanting to buy too much at one store. Dark blue, because the Number Man had recommended it over pure black for concealment, and bronze, if only for the reminder that I was Defiler. I had masked my purchases with other clothes, and finally had enough fitting clothes that I didn't have to fret over destroying more.
My hotel was a bit nicer, if only to break the pattern of motel usage. Additionally, I had booked and paid for three nights, to further throw off the pattern. If the Number Man had found me, others could. I had made sure to check in with a new disguise, one fitting my soon to be new ID. I made my call, and waited for the box to be delivered. Barely an hour later, I received a call from the front desk, and went down to pick up my box. It was large, and wasn't easy to get into the elevator, but I managed, and got back to my room. I was both impressed and slightly terrified at the resources getting everything so fast implied. He either must have more money than I thought he did, or an organization.
I set it down on the bed, and opened the box. A belt, with two loops where my legs would go was on top. A holster for a pistol, a knife, collapsible baton, and taser were on it. Right, back, back, and left, respectively. Lower, on the legs, were two pouches on each side I assumed were for magazines for my pistol, which I knew to be a Glock 17, from both the Number Man, and several folders of information. I flipped through, seeing it was about the gang that he had mentioned in the museum. Several photographs of buildings dominated the files. Another contained a passport and driver's licence for my current face.
Underneath the harness were multiple boxes of 9mm and .45 ammunition, and my Taser. Mass Production, a Tinker, had founded his own company by applying his ability to existing items. He only made marginal improvements for a Tinker, but overall, they were significant. Not only did the Taser come with a magazine of darts, instead of single reloads, it was supposed to be very effective as a touch weapon. Additional reloads were included as well.
With butterflies in my stomach, I got to the bottom layer. A collapsible baton and bags of zip ties, but most importantly, and expensively, at over two grand, my mask. I had gotten the idea from my mark. Inky black, it seemed to suck in the light as well. It was a plain oval, raised to accommodate my face, and its only decoration was a thin brass line at my lips. A hood extended from its back, and I put it on, stuffing my hair underneath.
Small sections of one-way translucent material accommodated my eyes, and I could see right through. In addition they functioned as sunglasses, should I need to go out in the day, and didn't want to be blinded.
I turned, facing the mirror near the room's closet. I was ready.
A/N: Dundundun
The Number Man arrived, at what could only be precisely on time. His taxi pulled up, disgorging him, and without even a word, drove away. He must have paid his fare on the way over.
He nodded to me, and I joined him in walking into the museum. Overcast and a weekday, it was nearly empty. We both paid $20 for a ticket, and as I followed him again, we walked left into the Greek and Roman section. I stopped, surprised. Had he figured out what I was? What the spider had said? I saw him turning, and hurried to catch up. We passed right through the section, and ended up in the section called Africa, Oceania, and the Americas.
Odd statuary, and cloth hangings primarily decorate the area. The Number Man stopped in front of one, squaring in front of it. He inclined his head to me as I stopped next to him.
"This is the least traversed part of the museum, and from here, including the glass on the cases, we will see anyone who wishes to interrupt our conversation."
I nodded, relieved he hadn't powered out another secret. "I wanted to talk again."
"About our previous conversation, I presume."
"Yes," I said. I paused, steadying myself with a breath.
"I can see the benefits to being labeled a villain, or using their methods. But, I still don't want to be a villain," I answered him.
He nodded, and asked, "Which will be more effective? Hero, where you are under the thumb of a PRT director, or villain, where you make your own choices? Can you stand-by, letting people be bullied?"
I turned with a glare at his attempt to goad me, and he raised his hands up.
"I'm sorry," twinge, "But it's true. You won't let people be taken advantage of. It's your nature."
"I don't want to kill people," I stated, quietly but emphatically.
"I didn't think you did. But if there is an innocent life on the line, if they will go out and harm more people, what if..." he trailed off. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, but it was effective.
"Yes," I whispered.
"What if it makes you stronger, makes you more likely to defeat an Endbringer?"
"Yes," I said more clearly. No lies from him that time. "I do want to know more about them. You said 50 years?"
"I did. Look at what Leviathan did to Japan. An entire country, sundered. Why? Will it happen again? When will it happen again?"
I stared at the statue, thinking. Over 8 million people had died, and twice that number displaced when Leviathan nearly liquefied the westernmost island of Japan. Or what Behemoth had done to Switzerland, what Simurgh did every time she showed up.
"And in 50 years," I clarified.
"Or earlier. The worst prediction made so far was within 14 years."
I wouldn't even be 30 by then.
"So, what will you do?"
"What I have to," I answered, both tired and filled with resolve.
"You don't have to be a conventional villain, you know. Or even a villain. An anti-villain, if you will. Only attacking the villains. Pulling people from underneath their thumb, and taking those resources you can for your own. My point is that you shouldn't let yourself be tied down or restrained by the conventional heroes. You need to be stronger."
"Didn't you say you worked with villains? That you handled their money?" I asked, curious that he was going against his clients.
"Yes. But, the vast majority aren't. And, so long as I don't give you any support, I do not have to give any one else any support."
"You have something in mind, then," I stated.
"I do," he admitted, and elaborated, "You have already knocked the Bloods into a frenzy. Their rival gang, the Crips, are likely to try to take advantage of the situation, and for their benefit only."
"And?"
"If I make my guess correctly, you incapacitated the leaders of a group of Bloods on Tuesday night, and then stole their money while destroying their drugs. A similar action would incite the Crips, and possibly cause them to blame each other, allowing you more time to destabilize them, in addition to providing you with additional funding."
"And what is your to benefit, as an accountant, from me stealing more money?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Hand me cash, and I will turn it into clean money. A bank account you have access to, and I can take the funds out of it, and return it clean. I also have contacts, and can make arrangements."
"And your benefit," I repeated.
"I take the majority of the profit I make, using your money in the interim, while it is being cleaned. You do get a small benefit from that as well."
I nodded. "So, say if I wanted ID, or weapons -"
"I can arrange that, if only for now. I am generally not so available, however you have caught my interest, and my support is necessary at this juncture."
"So in the future -"
"It would be primarily up to you, yes."
"So, if I handed you a list, I could get certain items, and you take the money now?"
"Yes. However, I'd prefer to discuss this in a place that is a bit more private, especially if it concerns a disguise or costume."
"Where to, then?"
He led me away, silent. We exited the museum, and he waved down a cab. As we got in, he whispered into the cabbies ear. I started to speak, but he shook his hand, standing me down. After a quick, silent ride, which seemed very uncomfortable for the driver, we exited, the Number Man handing him some cash.
We had arrived at a small restaurant, with not but small green lettering on the door. It's front was primarily glass, and I didn't see much of a line. The Number Man walked in, nodded to the maitre d', for he could only be that as dressed up as he was, and picked us a table.
He opened his briefcase, and handed me a pen and paper. Bemused, I looked up. "Costume ideas."
I looked behind us, and he cleared his throat. "I picked this spot, again for the view of approaching people. I will warn you."
"Thank you." I tapped the pen, thinking. "If I ever have to use a bigger form, I'll destroy my costume. I think-"
He held up his hand, as the waiter came over. He spoke in a language I couldn't recognize, and the waiter left. "Lunch is on me, to signify our new relationship."
"Thank you," I repeated. "I was thinking that I can't really have an actual costume, since the last time I went full scale, I destroyed my clothes."
"Understandable. I would suggest a mask, if only so you wouldn't have to worried about changing shape to disguise yourself."
I didn't correct him on his misconception. The waiter returned with a bottle of water, which bubbled. Odd. I started doodling for a moment, before inspiration struck. On a fresh sheet, I quickly sketched a design, relatively easily. A legend for color, and I handed it over. He nodded, and asked, "Material?"
"Preferably bulletproof."
"Anything else?"
I nodded, and looking behind me, opened my backpack, handing it over to him. "I'd appreciate knowing what kinds of pistols these are, and what ammunition to buy for them."
As if it were perfectly natural to look through a girl's backpack at her pistols, he nodded, rustling through. "A Glock 17, and a 1911. I'm not sure on the make of the later. 9mm and .45 on each. I would suggest adding ammunition to the list, as well as manuals."
Lunch arrived, and I added to a piece of paper creatively title, 'List.' Lunch turned out to be a pale soup, which the Number Man identified as 'Vichyssoise,' and a salad called 'Nicoise.' Good, but tuna with salad was very odd. I finished my lunch quickly, and then finished the list, and handed it to him. He scanned it, quickly, and quoted a number. I suppressed a wince, and riffled through my backpack, counting out bills. He passed his briefcase over, and I placed the bills inside.
"Call the number, and I will have it delivered to the address you specify. Anytime after 5 will be fine. Once you have more funding, call, and we will set up accounts, if you want to."
I nodded, and rose. He rose with me, and I left, to go shopping with my remaining money.
I was down to under $500. My clothing purchases, along with a pair of suitcases to carry them with, weren't cheap, but had only amounted to under a thousand. Most of my money had gone to the Number Man. I now had plenty of dark blue clothing and jeans, primarily with bronze designs. I had shopped around, not wanting to buy too much at one store. Dark blue, because the Number Man had recommended it over pure black for concealment, and bronze, if only for the reminder that I was Defiler. I had masked my purchases with other clothes, and finally had enough fitting clothes that I didn't have to fret over destroying more.
My hotel was a bit nicer, if only to break the pattern of motel usage. Additionally, I had booked and paid for three nights, to further throw off the pattern. If the Number Man had found me, others could. I had made sure to check in with a new disguise, one fitting my soon to be new ID. I made my call, and waited for the box to be delivered. Barely an hour later, I received a call from the front desk, and went down to pick up my box. It was large, and wasn't easy to get into the elevator, but I managed, and got back to my room. I was both impressed and slightly terrified at the resources getting everything so fast implied. He either must have more money than I thought he did, or an organization.
I set it down on the bed, and opened the box. A belt, with two loops where my legs would go was on top. A holster for a pistol, a knife, collapsible baton, and taser were on it. Right, back, back, and left, respectively. Lower, on the legs, were two pouches on each side I assumed were for magazines for my pistol, which I knew to be a Glock 17, from both the Number Man, and several folders of information. I flipped through, seeing it was about the gang that he had mentioned in the museum. Several photographs of buildings dominated the files. Another contained a passport and driver's licence for my current face.
Underneath the harness were multiple boxes of 9mm and .45 ammunition, and my Taser. Mass Production, a Tinker, had founded his own company by applying his ability to existing items. He only made marginal improvements for a Tinker, but overall, they were significant. Not only did the Taser come with a magazine of darts, instead of single reloads, it was supposed to be very effective as a touch weapon. Additional reloads were included as well.
With butterflies in my stomach, I got to the bottom layer. A collapsible baton and bags of zip ties, but most importantly, and expensively, at over two grand, my mask. I had gotten the idea from my mark. Inky black, it seemed to suck in the light as well. It was a plain oval, raised to accommodate my face, and its only decoration was a thin brass line at my lips. A hood extended from its back, and I put it on, stuffing my hair underneath.
Small sections of one-way translucent material accommodated my eyes, and I could see right through. In addition they functioned as sunglasses, should I need to go out in the day, and didn't want to be blinded.
I turned, facing the mirror near the room's closet. I was ready.
A/N: Dundundun
Undead-Spaceman
Skeleton Supreme
- Location
- Somewhere in Orbit
Part of me is kinda disappointed she got a mask, I kinda liked the Miss Militia style scarf thing she had going.
As for the mask itself, I'm kinda having trouble visualizing it. Is it like a flat oval plate, sorta like Clockblocker's or is it like Coil gimp mask thing?
As for the mask itself, I'm kinda having trouble visualizing it. Is it like a flat oval plate, sorta like Clockblocker's or is it like Coil gimp mask thing?
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Plate, flat except for a slight dip to accommodate her nose, face. Think like a very shallow oval-shaped bowl.Undead-Spaceman said:
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Heh. Look at the timestamps on my posts. I wanted to get it out because I said I would. Ill come back and expand on the conversation tomorrow, then. And this chapter might as well be named transition.illhousen said:
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well, that and I was in a hurry to try out tw:r. But I did want to address a very valid concern. I basically blehed the lunch scene, which is where I'll put some of Taylor's questionsillhousen said:
