Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Several days. You can view it at page one.
Godcard (Enjoy Your God-Given Superpowers/Magic!)
- Thread starter Birdsie
- Start date
- Modern Original Fantasy
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
The power is limited to things that can be accomplished by humans and only if they work in a contest. Obviously, in a case where the natural victory rate would already by zero and perhaps with odds further lowered by buffers in the form of various intermediary events and goal dilution, the power loses its potency exponentially, but if you challenge Eric to something even as vague as 'being better,' you should see a tiny if steady increase in performance when attempting to beat him at said action.
Intermission + 007
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
You enter the room, unnoticed by Eric who appears to be busy browsing the internet. You slam the newspaper on his desk, startling him like a pigeon scared by a sudden movement.
He winces, wheels back a meter in his chair and looks at you. "Oh, what?" he exclaims, swiftly removing the headphones from his ears and hanging them around his neck. A second passes and his face brightens, as he realizes he must've not heard his parents call him from downstairs about the visitor.
Your nose crinkles. You rip the headphones off his neck and chuck them across the room so hard they disconnect from their plug in the back of the computer and crash against the wall. You're in a bit of a bad mood after the needless call to the Police Department, where you were informed Jacob Corrigan has already been listed as missing.
You respond to his question by pointing at the newspaper.
Eric looks back at the remains of his headset and gulps. He looks at you hesitantly for a moment, then reels his chair closer to his desk. Adjusting his glasses, he reads the article on the front page, and soon, his eyes fill up with pure horror.
BRIDGEMORE MANGLER STRIKES AGAIN!
Details on page eight!
"This article," you say expectantly. "Who wrote it? You can tell, even if it's printed or edited, right?"
"Right," he confirms, then turns in your direction in his chair. You fold your arms in response and glare at him, while he steeples his hands, resting his elbows on the armrests. He then asks, in a dull tone of voice, "But what does this have to do with the investigation?"
Sigh. You knew he wouldn't catch on. "Whoever wrote it had sources. Those sources could lead us in the direction of finding Jacob. Even if not, then we'll discover who the serial killer is. That's just as good."
Eric nods slowly, then off-handedly glances at the newspaper and reads the ominous line about three people dead, then looks back at you apprehensively, as if you were asking him to split a puppy in half with a hatchet. Perhaps it is his belief that he's the puppet here.
"Okay," he submits. "How do you want to take down the serial killer?"
"With violence."
"What if he's more violent than you?" he asks as he spins 360-degrees around in his chair, retrieves an apple from a bowl on a shelf of the bookcase behind him as he does so, and then returns to you.
"Asking a lot of questions there, buddy. Not very charismatic."
"I don't need hyper-intuition to realize this is a bad plan." He takes the newspaper in his free hand as he rubs the apple against his shirt. He bites into it and holds it with his mouth and looks into the newspaper and then analyzes the contents of the front page.
You wait patiently. Eric takes the apple in his left hand and barely holds to the newspaper with that same hand, then taps a finger of his right hand against his tongue, then starts flipping through the pages.
Another bite of the apple, a weird stare at the article, then a careful slide of his two fingers against it causes a revelation to pop up in his eyes. "Weird."
"What's weird?" Your arms unfold expectantly without you noticing.
He flips to a previous page, slides his fingers across it, then flips back and repeats the procedure again. At that point, his eyes tighten a millimeter.
"I don't get it," he says, then looks at you. His eyes shift into a thousand-yard stare for a second before he finally says, "I'm sure this is a mistake, but my power says David Corrigan is fully responsible for this article. That's Jacob's uncle, if my memory serves me right, and it does because my intuition and writing analysis give me the same results."
"What do you mean 'fully' responsible?" you question, uncertain.
"Fully," he mimics the word with less emphasis, and his eyes return to normalcy. He looks at the newspaper, then hands it to you to read it again for yourself. "As in no one edited this, no one touched this, no one tampered with the article. This is one-hundred percent David Corrigan's writing, from the first to the last letter. The press, for some reason, released this, and not a single journalist has so much as swapped a single letter or word in it. The guy attributed to writing this article is a lie, also written down by David Corrigan."
Slightly contorting your face, you come to the realization. You understand, completely and utterly, but ask for confirmation: "What you're saying is..."
"David Corrigan has reasons to provide the public with information about the Mangler. He wants his own, and no one else's information. We can't be sure if this is lies, exaggeration, or if it downplays the real situation."
The article says that over the last two weeks, the Bridgemore Mangler has attacked and claimed over nine victims thus far. Witnesses of the attacks said the attacks were carried out by an abnormally large animal, an opinion which the police share. Three more victims died yesterday, a third of the total pool. It is still not understood why public services cannot catch the creature, but citizens are advised to stay alert indoors, as the attacks almost exclusively take place between one and four in the morning.
Is any of this lies? Slander? If so, then why?
"Any idea who David Corrigan is?" you ask, unsure how to proceed with this information. You return the newspaper to his hands.
He reads the article again and touches it. From the thousand-yard stare that Eric enters, you judge he's using his reading power to pull information.
"He's a business owner. Owns a company called Confidence America. It has several recently formed daughter companies, like Confidence Financial and Confidence Security. He's wealthy, at over two million dollars and rising. He has some shady deals going under the table, or at least it seems like it."
You tap your chin. You have an idea, but it'll require some looking into. "When did he become wealthy like this?"
"A year after he found the company."
"When was that?"
"A few months ago."
"So he made two million dollars in under two years?"
"Most of his wealth was made in the last six months. Well over eighty-five percent of it," he corrects your line of thought, then launches into a lengthy description,
"His assets are expanding rapidly; it's a slope of income that keeps going higher. Before summer, his net worth should be well over four million. And it will only get higher as time goes on. Assuming the expansion rate he has right now doesn't stray by over ten percent, he'll be a billionaire in several years and a multi-billionaire in a decade. By the end of his life, he'd be among the richest people alive. However, with all currently available data on the economy, lack of deeper data on his business strategy, I surmise the chances of succeeding are easily under one percent. He'll have to work very hard and make extremely sophisticated business decisions to ever become richer than eighteen billion dollars."
"Also, that's all of my charges spent," he cautions, his eyes returning back to normal, then hands you the newspaper while you stare in awe.
That's not the point though. The point is that this situation stinks.
Suddenly his barely-functioning company explodes into a paradise of business expansion? It smells awfully like a Black Card in here. The question is, what does it have to do with the Mangler and Jacob?
"Anyways, I have an idea." You grin. You brewed this up in your head ever since yesterday but wanted to break the news to him in person. Even if your power is buffered through the interference of various smaller events, the sum of the parts still forms a larger goal that you can win at. Even if the increase in performance is minimal, it exists.
With that in mind, you point a finger at him. "Eric Tremblay, I challenge you to needle in the haystack, where Jacob Corrigan is the needle and Bridgemore is the haystack!"
He smiles, instantly catching onto your meaning. With an equal melodramatic flair to yours, he proclaims, "I graciously accept! In addition, I propose a condition where the loser has to agree to the winner's one wish!"
You squint, then growl and whack him in the head with a karate chop. "No, you can't see me in my underwear, idiot!" you scream, your voice boiling with rage.
He clutches the place where you struck with his hands, letting out a hiss of pain. "That's not it!" he denies in a shriek. "I just wanted you to buy me a new headset!"
♛
Spectral green scales float above a young woman's head. On one side of the scales is a light wisp of flame, the other is empty.
The scales swing one way, then the other, as the Police Commissioner Jim Irons stares at her through a one-way mirror. He watches as a detective questions her about the death of the latest Mangler victim, Victor Wells. She claims she witnessed what happened to the young man while she was riding her bike at the park.
She looks traumatized and looks into the space in front of her blankly, with dead eyes. "It... It was a monster..." Suddenly, her breathing starts to go out of rhythm and becomes loud.
"Miss, please calm down..." The officer tries to put her at ease, standing up and raising a hand.
"N-No you, you don't understand..." She pauses. Her pleading eyes pierce the officer's own. "What attacked that man... it... it wasn't human!" She slams her palms on the table, causing some coffee to fly up from the coffee mug the officer offered her.
Commissioner Irons scratches his rough, five-o'clock-shadowed chin as he watches the scales above her head go swing up and down frantically. This is normal. He had seen many of these spectral scales and from what he understands, most people's scales swing wildly, at least the scales of most innocent people see-saw this way.
The Commissioner has also seen the scales above the heads of rapists and murderers who had a lot of evidence against them. He saw how their scales barely moved at all. The side with the flames sunk to the bottom while the side without flames floats above. This imbalance means the person is most likely a serious criminal.
A young man wearing glasses walks up and stops next to the commissioner, with a badge on his ice blue dress shirt. Detective Mark Campbell. "Good morning, sir." The two were like father and son, apprentice and mentor, student and sensei. They had this relationship ever since Mark left the academy.
"Hard at work in the morning, eh, Mark?" Irons asks, shooting him a glance before looking back at the cross-examination on the other side of the glass.
Mark nods. "Any leads?"
Irons reaches inside his trenchcoat and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He motions the pack towards the young man who refuses the offer. The rugged-looking commissioner draws out a white stick from the package and puts it in his mouth.
"Sir," Mark says, thumbing at a 'no smoking' sign near the door.
"Crap... I forgot..." The edge of Jim's lower lip drops. He puts the cigarette in his chest pocket, sighing. "Those signs were Amanda's idea. She keeps nagging me about smoking..."
He smirks and crosses his arms, returning his attention to the discussion at hand. "She's a witness. She says the latest victim was attacked by a monster."
"Monster, sir?" Mark looks at Jim with a confused expression. Jim's eyes reflect in the glass as he answers with only a light nod.
The interview goes on.
"What does this monster look like then, Miss Sanchez?" the officer asks.
"I-I couldn't see it clearly, it all happened so fast, and I was really scared... I thought it was going to go after me." She rests her forehead in her palms. "I know this... this sounds crazy... I don't even believe myself when I say these things."
She sighs and closes her eyes, trying to focus.
"It was huge. A very large and scary creature. While it was attacking that man, I heard the sounds of growling, low grumblings... like... like a dog." She opens her eyes and looks at the officer.
"I couldn't see its front, but it looked like a giant mass... of fur and muscle," she says in a voice of disbelief; even she isn't fully confident in what she saw, and suspects she might've gone insane. She shakes her head. "I'm telling you the truth, take it or leave it!"
The officer sighs profoundly before Jim walks into the interrogation room. The Commissioner places his hands on his waist and looks at the detective then at the witness, saying, "That's enough, Tom. Miss Sanchez, you can go home now..."
He smiles at the young woman who seems to be on the verge of tears. She grabs her belongings and walks out the door. Mark waits there, to escort her to the front of the PD. It was a shame, that all of the witnesses said things like these.
Though Jim gave what they knew to the news outlets, what surprised him was that they didn't create mass panic and capitalize on the fact a monster is walking around. Instead, the newspaper from today said there was a wild animal running amok.
Selective misinformation is dangerous, he knew that. But at the same time, the citizens didn't panic. Was this the better outcome? The better choice of the two evils? Was it even a decision that could be made? Jim sighed, releasing a fraction of his stress into the air.
Jim smiles at Tom and pats his shoulder. "She saw what she saw. Don't think too much of it."
Mark follows Jim to the police department's roof, as the latter wants to get a smoke. "Sir, do you really think she's telling the truth? A monster?"
"Mark, with the strange things going on these days? It wouldn't be surprising if the Mangler really was a monster."
"True," Mark concedes.
The lava-rippled obsidian guy on TV claimed a few victims at this point. It helps that they don't have to deal with him, as the footage taken was from somewhere in the Bronx, in New York. Jim should've been thankful for that.
He should have, but he wasn't. And perhaps this is the punishment.
Of course, in a grizzly turn of fate, he got something just as bad if not worse instead. A huge mess of fur and muscle, they say, running around and chopping people into bits. At least eight feet tall, and the media coverage makes it seem like a bear or wolf is running around, not a monster of legend.
Jim is already aware that these accursed Black Cards are behind this mess going on. All he has to do is piece the puzzles together.
His mouth lets out a puff of smoke. One week until the next full moon, he thinks to himself. Every Card user will get an upgrade in exactly one week from now... including that freak.
But Jim couldn't help but smile. Even though he lacks the power to stop the Mangler, he has other sources of support that he can always rely on.
He looks at Mark, who walks downstairs to get a look into the archives and later ask for a coroner's report on the newest victim. Jim then looks above his head, and he breathes out a puff of thick, gray smoke.
The scales above Mark's head are heavily leaning to the empty side, with the flame almost nonexistent, nothing but an empty spark that was never fed or watered by dark emotion or giving into urges of evil. Maybe Jim can't stop the Mangler on his own, but he can rely on his people to help him.
He can rely on Mark, Tom, Amanda, and everyone else to help him.
♛
VOTE BY PLAN.
Story Actions:
[] Act. (Write-in.)
[] Add Automated Action. (Write-in.)
[] Remove Automated Action. (Write-in.)
Suggested Actions:
[?] Look for other Black Card users.
-[?] How?
--[?] Challenge them! To a friendly spar.
--[?] Challenge them! Winner gets the enemy's card.
--[?] Be friends with them.
--[?] Decide when you actually meet them.
[?] Find out who Elsa is. Perhaps this isn't the best idea, but if you can figure out her powers, maybe you can find a way to subvert them in the future?
-[?] How?
Automated Actions:
[♛] Fulfill physiological needs, such as eating, sleeping or hydrating. [CANNOT BE REMOVED.]
[♛] Go to school.
[♛] Play sports of any kind after school as a hobby for as long as time allows. Even jogging is fine.
[♛] Play sports of any kind whenever possible. Even jogging is fine.
[♛] Try to win at sports.
[♛] Talk to your friends at school. They love to gossip rumors, mundane and superstitious. Maybe they noticed something weird in the school recently?
[♛] Keep track of suspicious news, such as disappearances or unexplained events. They may be related to the Black Cards or to the Olympus Group.
Dad (Dominic Aornheimer)
Mom (Emma Aornheimer)
Sis (Irina Aornheimer)
Bridgemore Emergency Line
Bridgemore Police Department
Bridgemore Fire Department
Bridgemore Ambulance
Pizzeria Roma
Susan MacNessa
Eric Tremblay
[11 other contacts]
Mom (Emma Aornheimer)
Sis (Irina Aornheimer)
Bridgemore Emergency Line
Bridgemore Police Department
Bridgemore Fire Department
Bridgemore Ambulance
Pizzeria Roma
Susan MacNessa
Eric Tremblay
[11 other contacts]
Last edited:
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
A little bonus character introduction. This Quest has a 'players are not omniscient' tag because I want to create at least a slight sense of mystery, so I held off on providing details on Jim's abilities and the circumstances. Details on his Black Card will be provided if Karines sees it.
Kkutlord
Prince of Breath
- Location
- Indianapolis, Indiana
So is it just me, or does it seem like the Mangler victims were Black Card owners? David clearly has one or is working with someone... So the question is: Why manipulate the news? Is the Mangler himself/his collector? Jacob having embraced his Card fully? I'm no good at complex votecrafting.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
No, I don't think the Mangler is David. It wouldn't match how his company skyrocketed in just a few months, a power like the Mangler have wouldn't help for that to be honest. I think the Mangler is related to David in some way or another and if it were to be killed/captured or something like that, it could compromise him.
[X] Plan Investigation
[X] Keep reading the newspaper
[X] Go to the Police Departement and ask for as much information as you can
-[X] Play it out as a project from school about the recent murders or you being part of the journalism club
[X] Find other Black Card users.
-[X] Compete with Eric
I think this sums up what we need to do to advance the investigation and it set us in the way of finding more Black Card users.
- Location
- PA
...
This could be really bad.
Not just a werewolf...THE wolf. Fenrir, he who breaks his chains at Ragnarok, the end of the world.
Collector boy himself is, if we're lucky some sort of god of good or merchants.
If we're unlucky he's something big mean and scary...
Irons is an unexpected infodump, but I guess his chill about directly meeting us says all that needs to be said about us, and our power is actually amazingly subtle-almost comes off more like a goddess of luck given the easiest way to demonstrate it.
This could be really bad.
Not just a werewolf...THE wolf. Fenrir, he who breaks his chains at Ragnarok, the end of the world.
Collector boy himself is, if we're lucky some sort of god of good or merchants.
If we're unlucky he's something big mean and scary...
Irons is an unexpected infodump, but I guess his chill about directly meeting us says all that needs to be said about us, and our power is actually amazingly subtle-almost comes off more like a goddess of luck given the easiest way to demonstrate it.
Kkutlord
Prince of Breath
- Location
- Indianapolis, Indiana
[X] Terran Imperium
I don't really have much to say, other than seeing if just using a power enough evolves it. Kari should really try challenging Eric to figure out alternative ways of powering up. As is, she probably couldn't defeat the Mangler without injury at best.
I don't really have much to say, other than seeing if just using a power enough evolves it. Kari should really try challenging Eric to figure out alternative ways of powering up. As is, she probably couldn't defeat the Mangler without injury at best.
008
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
The police station is surprisingly less lively than you expected. Upon entering, Eric goes in the direction of the receptionist, whose desk is directly in front of the entrance. To the right and left is a pair of very long hallways, both of which seem to turn around parallel to the edges of the building. There's a set of stairs to the right.
Other than the receptionist, there doesn't seem to be anyone in sight. You look right again and see a woman in a black miniskirt and white dress shirt exit through one of the distant doors, a blue, thick case full of documents in her hands, walk further down the hall, then enter another door. This makes you ignore the interaction that Eric jumpstarted next to you.
"Hello!"
The balding, middle-aged officer manning the reception desk jerks awake and nearly tumbles as he quickly pulls his feet off the counter. After adjusting his hat and shirt in quick succession, he looks up and scans you – still looking off to the side – and Eric with his indifferent gaze.
"Hello," he answers Eric's enthusiastic greeting with mildness. Scratching the back of his head after the nap, he asks, "How can I help you?"
"I'm Eric Tremblay, and this is Karines Aornheimer," he introduces. You turn to face the officer. "We're from Bluegate High, and we're doing a project about the recent murders, here in Bridgemore."
His mouth hangs agape as if he were trying to connect the pieces. Then, something clicks. "Ah, you're talking about the Mangler? Jeez, a project about murder. What are teachers doing these days? Detective Campbell is on that case, but he's very busy and I doubt he'll have time for some high-schoolers. I'll ask, though."
He clicks a button on the phone next to himself, then motions to a set of connected blue plastic chairs standing adjacent to a wall near the entrance. This will take a while.
The two of you sit down, comfortably away from each other, and comfortably away from the man in the reception. You whisper to Eric, "In case they ask, we're a part of the Journalism club."
He fakes a smile. "Because I'm wearing glasses?"
"What?"
"You're assuming that lie will work because I'm wearing glasses?"
You stare at him, blink, then subtly raise your eyebrows. "What."
"It's really rude to treat me–" You decide to stop him before this gets out of hand.
"Look. Maybe they bully you, call you four-eyes"– he cringes visibly –"But I don't care about your feelings of inadequacy. Deal with it and stop being a loser."
He seems to shut up at that. The officer manning the reception lays down the phone just on time, then looks at the two of you. "You're in luck. Detective Campbell is free and has some time. He'll see you in his office."
That... worked? "Great!" Eric cuts in, standing up. "Where is his office?"
"It's upstairs. Just go and ask."
You nod. "Let's go, Eric."
The two of you go upstairs to the second floor and witness what seems like to be an office space, with cubicles and computers. Off to the sides are several, larger offices behind actual walls. Eric allows himself to approach an officer, either on break or off-duty, that happens to be looking through her phone near the stairs.
"Excuse me. Do you know where Detective Campbell's office is?"
It's such a weird thing, now that you notice it. It took you quite some time to convince Eric to come here. He was very nervous about snooping around the police, even though he's a goody-two-shoes himself. But in the end, now that the two of you are here, he's the one taking initiative in conversation. He's shy, but when push comes to shove, he seems to be a people person deep down. Maybe his card isn't so bad of a judge of character after all?
You're good with it.
She blinks once, then looks around and points to one of the closed-off rooms. "Over there. Knock before you enter."
The two of you walk through the office, trying to stray free of any passing workers, and you reach the office. After knocking twice, you are invited in.
♛
Mark Campbell is a friendly man with a positive, optimist mindset. He's the kind of guy that doesn't become jaded even after seeing corpses and investigating situations of domestic abuse or worse. That kind of mindset, you surmise, is unique in his line of work. For a man in his late thirties, he appears to be very young and attractive, with blond hair, uncombed and constantly swerved upward.
That's not what surprises you.
He's eager to give you information. You, a pair of high-schoolers. Information about a murder case that is still open. That's what surprises you. It's probably illegal, more than that it's stupid. But for some reason, he gives you the information you ask him about like it's casual.
"Then there was another murder yesterday," he says, a spark evocative of tantalizing, but a tad more serious, in his voice. He leans down and opens a drawer in his desk, pulling out a small case of files. He lays it on his desk, opens it and looks through.
Very eager to give you information.
Then, he hands Eric the file, urging him to look through it, with an expression that practically asks: 'Please, as an outsider, tell me what you think. Please, confirm that I am NOT crazy.'
Eric adjusts his glasses and peers in, quietly muttering as he whispers the lines of text to himself and pieces them together. You lean a little to the left and try to get a look as well.
Mark further solidifies his question by asking it aloud, with a kind of vehemence in his voice, "So, what do you think?"
Drawn away from the file and back to the detective, you ask feigning naivety, "Is this legal?" You already know the answer.
"What is?" he asks, perturbed and irritated by you not properly answering his question.
"Showing case files to us?" you clarify, starting to get the heebie-jeebies. His behavior is unprofessional and abnormal. He's on the edge of sanity, you would surmise.
He shakes his head energetically with an uncivil laugh and almost daring smile, "Definitely not. No." His eyes have a kind of loose weight on them. One that speaks for itself: It's not, but I don't give the slightest fuck. Just look at this and don't tell me what's legal and not.
You blink, internally surprised, then look back into the file. As you read, your blood begins to thaw and flow more quickly. Mostly because there are actual pictures, actual evidence. Detailed reports of events, with, again, actual evidence, mostly in the form of printed photography, to back it all up. It makes the hairs on your back stand up.
One of the pictures draws your attention.
A massive beast. It's definitely above seven feet tall and well over fifteen feet long. It's a quadrupedal wolf, covered in thick fur and with a paranormally bulky build. Even through the fur and darkness of the picture, you can see shapely and well-toned muscles. If a wolf was giant and went to the gym for the gains, it would definitely look like this.
Its fangs, in particular, make you concentrate on the image. You don't have much of a size comparison on the picture other than the ambient background of the wolf and the park grass around it, but you'd say it's fair to say its teeth have the length and width of human fingers. Its head is the size of your torso.
More unsettling is the fact that the wolf is facing the camera and seems to be growling, implying that whoever took the picture didn't live for very long afterward.
As you're done taking in the creature's appearance, you notice that Eric is looking at you. Trying to read from his face, you believe he's come to the same conclusion as you.
Fenrir.
You don't have to be a mythology junkie to recognize that. The two of you face Campbell with newfound sobriety.
"Can we take this?" Eric asks shyly. Exactly how he behaved around his friends when you entered for the D&D session. It seems he has two modes: one that's expressive and communicative; and this one.
Campbell looks at him and leans in forward through his desk. With a grave voice, he says, "Feel free. But in case anyone asks, you didn't get this from me."
What a criminal thing to say coming from the mouth of a police officer! Eric is visibly unsettled by the sudden change of atmosphere.
The detective leans in further, then whispers, just loud enough that you can hear him. "Someone is trying to cover this up. We gave everything we have to the media, but they're not letting this out. Any statements that involve this don't get coverage. Don't you think that's weird? Of all weird things happening right now around the coast, why not cash in on this? I don't know what's happening, but you kids best be careful."
He slid something forward. A card with his number on it. He finished what he was saying with a simple, "And let me know if you can make something out of this mess."
Your blood freezes and your heart seems to skip a beat. You can put on a mask of toughness in front of people, but this is something real. Something serious. Something that's happening near you, as we speak, and is currently going on. The Mangler is out there, killing people, and you've set out to stop him.
You're neck deep in shit.
Campbell sits back down. In his friendly tone, he says, "If there's anything else I can help you with, let me know."
♛
"There's some stuff in here," Eric says, analyzing a page of the document, laying on his bed.
You, reading a written-down witness testimony ask, "What?"
"They managed to find some hair from that wolf. Genetic printouts are inconclusive. That thing belongs to a yet-undiscovered member of the Canis genus." He lays down the paper and looks at you. He clarifies, "It's a wolf, but it belongs to no known species of wolves. They're really baffled at this."
"Well, it's no surprise," you muse nonchalantly. "Cards don't really seem to give a damn about logic."
"It makes one think, though," Eric notes. He looks at you and continues, "Assume that the Fenris card lets you shapeshift into this thing."
You follow his line of thought, interested where it might lead. "And what?"
"It changes you on a genetic level. It follows the principles of how DNA works, but at the same time, it pulls extra biomass out of nowhere to turn you into that creature. It's physically possible and impossible at the same time. Where does the biomass come from? Is it converted from local energy? Teleported in? If so, using what method?"
"It's probably magic," you answer, letting the file in your hands fall to the floor once you're done with it. "If this is actual science, it's thousands of years ahead. Unless some schmoozer invented the time machine and came to our time with all of his technology just to play around and convince comparatively primitive people he can do magic, it is actual magic."
Eric tries to shoot down this idea, "And in a society where culture is thousands of years ahead, wouldn't there be restrictions to keep people from doing this?"
"Maybe?"
"Well. It's all speculation at this point," he concedes with a sigh. He repositions himself on his bed, using his arms as pillows for his head.
You have no hope that the question you're about to ask will result in anything, but you ask anyway, "We've looked through all the documents. Any leads? Ideas?"
"Nope," he answers as you expected.
How is this connected to Jacob Corrigan? Or David Corrigan? Elsa, give me something more concrete.
Not bothering to look at him, you ask, "Hey, who wrote this report?"
Without looking back at you either, he replies, "Some woman called Amanda Murphy, with some help from Christian Peralta."
"More on them?"
"Both are cops, seem to be middle-ranked. Nothing interesting about them, really. Nothing abnormal. There was no tampering with the files. Why?"
"Are they on the Mangler case?"
It takes him a second to answer, "Yes. Where are you going with this?"
"You think either of them has a card?" you ask. It's an empty question. You don't actually suspect it, but investigating all possible avenues will maximize the possibility you find a conclusive answer or a lead to one. You look at Eric, surprised to find out that the answer isn't instantaneous.
He muses on the question. Finally, after a moment, Eric frowns and grabs one of the files, sliding his fingers across it. Once he has a satisfying amount of feedback from his power, he answers, "No, but... there's... something weird about this line of questioning."
"You think someone they know has a card?"
His eyes widen, while his jaw tightens. There's some conflict in his eyes, then he enters that emotionless thousand-yard stare he has when using his hyper-intuition power. Five, long seconds pass in complete silence, until he answers with a very convinced voice. "Yes."
"Who is it?"
"A co-worker? It..." He pauses to think again for another few seconds, then answers. "Yes. He is... it's a vague answer. My power... It feels like he's... above them, in a way?"
"Above them? In what way?"
"In a... a..." He thinks, then scrunches up his forehead. "Cultural way? He's ranked above them. A big shot in the department?"
This entire conversation alloted you some more understanding to how his power works, but you decide to ask, "Do they know he has a card?"
"Definitely not."
"Amazing. Your power can find out details on people's lives that they don't notice themselves, just by reading something they wrote. It's like a form of powerful clairvoyance."
Eric lays down the paper, now thinking about what you just said. "I never thought about it that way, but you're right. It provides information, even when removed from the individuals themselves as a context, but it keeps strictly to involving information about their daily life. This suggests it can detect interference from Black Cards. The cop with the Black Card used it on either of them, which is how I know."
You hold up a finger, knowing he's about to continue. "And that means..."
He looks at you, dissonant. "That means..."
He grabs the file and flicks his entire hand across it at once, instead of using fingers. He's trying to get as much context at once as possible to put together a profile.
He shakes his head. "No information on the Mangler, though. Neither came in direct contact with him, so the Card's magic goes undetected to my clairvoyance."
"In that case, try this." He turns in your direction, just in time to catch a newspaper. The same newspaper from yesterday. Eric opens it back to the article and slides his finger across the words, pulling in data about the writer. He tightens his lips and looks up at you.
"David Corrigan has a Black Card. I'm sure of it. I can't pick up much about it, but it feels like..."
You give him time and let him speak.
"Like... business. Trade. Market. Not the good kind. It feels corrupt, wretched. Under the table deals. Association with organized crime. Like abusing loopholes in logic. It feels like..."
"A deal with the devil?"
His nod is a silent confirmation.
♛
VOTE BY PLAN.
Story Actions:
[] Act. (Write-in.)
[] Add Automated Action. (Write-in.)
[] Remove Automated Action. (Write-in.)
Suggested Actions:
[?] Look for other Black Card users.
-[?] How?
--[?] Challenge them! To a friendly spar.
--[?] Challenge them! Winner gets the enemy's card.
--[?] Be friends with them.
--[?] Decide when you actually meet them.
[?] Find out who Elsa is. Perhaps this isn't the best idea, but if you can figure out her powers, maybe you can find a way to subvert them in the future?
-[?] How?
Automated Actions:
[♛] Fulfill physiological needs, such as eating, sleeping or hydrating. [CANNOT BE REMOVED.]
[♛] Go to school.
[♛] Play sports of any kind after school as a hobby for as long as time allows. Even jogging is fine.
[♛] Play sports of any kind whenever possible. Even jogging is fine.
[♛] Try to win at sports.
[♛] Talk to your friends at school. They love to gossip rumors, mundane and superstitious. Maybe they noticed something weird in the school recently?
[♛] Keep track of suspicious news, such as disappearances or unexplained events. They may be related to the Black Cards or to the Olympus Group.
Dad (Dominic Aornheimer)
Mom (Emma Aornheimer)
Sis (Irina Aornheimer)
Bridgemore Emergency Line
Bridgemore Police Department
Bridgemore Fire Department
Bridgemore Ambulance
Pizzeria Roma
Susan MacNessa
Eric Tremblay
Detective Mark Campbell
[11 other contacts]
Mom (Emma Aornheimer)
Sis (Irina Aornheimer)
Bridgemore Emergency Line
Bridgemore Police Department
Bridgemore Fire Department
Bridgemore Ambulance
Pizzeria Roma
Susan MacNessa
Eric Tremblay
Detective Mark Campbell
[11 other contacts]
Kkutlord
Prince of Breath
- Location
- Indianapolis, Indiana
I'm sure there is someone who can make it fit a vote, so what I suggest: Kari challenges Eric to find alternative ways to powerup Black Cards, and to poke at just how semantic his powers are. Being able to use his Writing Analysis on bodies would help figuring out the Mangler.
- Location
- PA
Hrrmf. We really need to figure out cool things WE can do with our powers, because Eric's muse clarovoyance thing is waaay too shiny...
...Goddess of Victory right?
[X]Try extending your power to your teammates, and win at sports that way.
Right now I'm feeling like we're almost more akin to a Goddess of Luck then Victory, and I want to toy with our own powers some to figure out the difference.
...Goddess of Victory right?
[X]Try extending your power to your teammates, and win at sports that way.
Right now I'm feeling like we're almost more akin to a Goddess of Luck then Victory, and I want to toy with our own powers some to figure out the difference.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
His power is strictly writing. In that strict target, it has many broad expressions. It can figure out the guy responsible for a label on a coca-cola bottle, tell you his name, age, personality, and offer some trivia on their daily life. If Eric were then to burn up a charge of hyper-intuition he'd get extra details. If he focuses on certain aspects, he can figure out more and more in that specific area. For example, if he used enough hyper-intuition and focused on someone's health, he could probably detect cancer in a stage in which modern medical equipment can't. The two aspects; Writing Analysis, and Hyper-Intuition, are completely separate but can be used together to piggyback on each other and achieve a level of clarity together that is impossible to the sum of the parts.
All he needs for that is to be able to touch the writing of whoever he wants to read.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Based on what research Eric did on his power: (And he did a lot.)
It has to have been done with the intent of being read. "Information passed non-verbally with intent," is a good example of the target. He could read hieroglyphics or symbols and make a connection with them, but wounds don't count. They're marks, yes, but you don't stab a knife into your gut and walk around with it with the intention of having people derive information from it.
Also, the more something is removed from traditional writing, the less effect the power has. It can be used on pictures or forms of expression like tattoos since the intent of someone deriving information from them is there, but the effect becomes meager and feels disconnected and detached; removed. It becomes much more difficult. If he were to try to analyze a seven-year-old's crayon drawing, he could piece together a few odd details, like the author's state of mind at the time of drawing, their name, and maybe a few thinly-vectored feelings and concepts about the drawing and author.
Compare that to actual writing, where he instantly knows the name, gender, age, state of mind, and a depth of description about the person's overall life, in addition to drawing feelings and conclusions about them, with a chance for way, way more information if he were to use hyper-intuition. One signature and he'll know about your love for rock music and your unhealthy eating habits. Slam some hyper-intuition on it and he'll know you loved rock ever since your dad introduced you to it back when you were nine, and your eating habits stem from an equally unhealthy break-up with your girlfriend who had purple hair and cheated on you with some loser called Alex.
So, yes. If someone carved a word into a person with the specific intent of passing information in such a gruesome way, it'd be applicable. Stabbing a knife into your gut isn't very conclusive, though.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
We may be a beast at sports but we aren't at fighting. Why would we need to know how to fight? We are investigating a werewolf monster that goes killing people around. And we may encounter future hostile Black Card users. This plan is a bit more focused on self-improvement.
[X] Plan Better, Faster, Stronger.
[X] Add Automated Action.
-[X] Try to actively use your power whenever possible and discover a new anility you might have missed.
[X] Enlist in a local martial art club.
-[X] Use your power to compete with the others and learn faster.
[X] Keep reading the newspaper
[X] Try to find out who is the cop with a Black Card.
[X] Plan Better, Faster, Stronger.
[X] Add Automated Action.
-[X] Try to actively use your power whenever possible and discover a new anility you might have missed.
[X] Enlist in a local martial art club.
-[X] Use your power to compete with the others and learn faster.
[X] Keep reading the newspaper
[X] Try to find out who is the cop with a Black Card.
Last edited:
[X] Plan Better, Faster, Stronger.
009
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
After coming across an MMA club advertisement online, you asked your parents to give you some extra allowance money so you could sign up. The admittance fee was $15, but it also involves a monthly payment of $10. Obviously, low rates like this mean the tutorship won't be very impressive - you get what you paid for.
On your way there, you read the newspaper. No news on the Mangler.
Suddenly, your phone buzzes. You take it out and look at it. It's from Eric.
Eric Tremblay: I have a problem
Karines Aornheimer: What's wrong?
Eric Tremblay: Power malfunctioning all morning, can't analyze anything
Karines Aornheimer: Malfunctioning or gone
Eric Tremblay: Analysis barely works, gives me constant warnings instead of info. Intuition works but I don't feel good when using it.
Karines Aornheimer: What's wrong?
Eric Tremblay: Power malfunctioning all morning, can't analyze anything
Karines Aornheimer: Malfunctioning or gone
Eric Tremblay: Analysis barely works, gives me constant warnings instead of info. Intuition works but I don't feel good when using it.
You have a strong feeling this isn't good. Just to make sure everything is alright, you pull your card out of your pocket and look at it. Everything's there.
[] On my way.
[] I'm busy. If you feel like something's wrong, just call the cops or tell your parents.
♛
VOTE BY PLAN.
Story Actions:
[] Act. (Write-in.)
[] Add Automated Action. (Write-in.)
[] Remove Automated Action. (Write-in.)
Suggested Actions:
[?] Look for other Black Card users.
-[?] How?
--[?] Challenge them! To a friendly spar.
--[?] Challenge them! Winner gets the enemy's card.
--[?] Be friends with them.
--[?] Decide when you actually meet them.
[?] Find out who Elsa is. Perhaps this isn't the best idea, but if you can figure out her powers, maybe you can find a way to subvert them in the future?
-[?] How?
Automated Actions:
[♛] Fulfill physiological needs, such as eating, sleeping or hydrating. [CANNOT BE REMOVED.]
[♛] Go to school.
[♛] Play sports of any kind after school as a hobby for as long as time allows. Even jogging is fine.
[♛] Play sports of any kind whenever possible. Even jogging is fine.
[♛] Try to win at sports.
[♛] Talk to your friends at school. They love to gossip rumors, mundane and superstitious. Maybe they noticed something weird in the school recently?
[♛] Keep track of suspicious news, such as disappearances or unexplained events. They may be related to the Black Cards or to the Olympus Group.
[♛] Try to actively use your power whenever possible and discover a new ability you might have missed.
Dad [Dominic Aornheimer]
Mom [Emma Aornheimer]
Sis [Irina Aornheimer]
Bridgemore Emergency Line
Bridgemore Police Department
Bridgemore Fire Department
Bridgemore Ambulance
Pizzeria Roma
Susan MacNessa
Eric Tremblay
Detective Mark Campbell
[11 other contacts]
Mom [Emma Aornheimer]
Sis [Irina Aornheimer]
Bridgemore Emergency Line
Bridgemore Police Department
Bridgemore Fire Department
Bridgemore Ambulance
Pizzeria Roma
Susan MacNessa
Eric Tremblay
Detective Mark Campbell
[11 other contacts]
Astra Myst
Do you want a wish?
- Location
- Milky Way Galaxy
[X] On my way.
- Location
- PA
...Hrrm.
[X] On my way.
Soo because we're talking mythos and gods and whatnot this isn't some convienent 'power nullify' power. And with the way this guy's limitations were described I don't think it's as simple as 'he over did it', either. It looks like he's about to be attacked, and we need to be there to bail him out.
The weird thing to me is the inuition doesn't feel good bit. I'm finding it odd his power seems to be trying to warn him in general, but I guess it makes sense if you think of him basically building towards some sort of modern 'seer' type.
Bigger problem is I'm guessing this means the Mangler is about to visit and take his card away, among other things.
I don't know how well this is going to go down but if we don't arrive soon this kid's going to be in for it.
[X] On my way.
Soo because we're talking mythos and gods and whatnot this isn't some convienent 'power nullify' power. And with the way this guy's limitations were described I don't think it's as simple as 'he over did it', either. It looks like he's about to be attacked, and we need to be there to bail him out.
The weird thing to me is the inuition doesn't feel good bit. I'm finding it odd his power seems to be trying to warn him in general, but I guess it makes sense if you think of him basically building towards some sort of modern 'seer' type.
Bigger problem is I'm guessing this means the Mangler is about to visit and take his card away, among other things.
I don't know how well this is going to go down but if we don't arrive soon this kid's going to be in for it.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
[X] On my way.