- Location
- UK
Well, theres an image. Now I feel the urge to actually make that happen somehow.
Scaling Up
- Thread starter Kryslin
- Start date
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Find the artist who did the chibi-Ziz, and go from there...
- Location
- UK
Nah, I meant in a story. Honestly, the thought of Dragons reaction to the Endbringers suddenly doing very silly things tickles me.
- Location
- The Old Dominion
I've clearly heard the Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego theme too much because I am just picturing she's the one person even dragons gods like would fear coming around given her ability to steal anything ranging from a hang crank to a entire galaxy, intangible concepts and periods of time and then get away and no method of imprisonment can hold her even if she is caught.
- Location
- Austin, Texas
Like, an hour?
Am I the only one who heard the voice of Ed Gruberman?
David DeLaney
Verified & Credited Rules Wizard
- Location
- North of Knoxville, indoors, seated comfortably
... you mean you don't _always_ hear the voice of Ed Gruberman?
--Dave, speaking of memetic hazards...
- Location
- Illinois
The heck. I could have sworn I outright posted a link to it right after the initial post. looks back to check Yeah, I did. But there's not even one reaction to it. Am I the only one who can see it? Is this another side effect of the shutdown? (Am I going (more) insane?)
Eh, sanity is overrated.
Just ask Accelerator. You don't become the Number 1 Level 5 Esper by being perfectly sane.
Empire 12 : Kursk, North Shoulder
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
17 April 2011 0630 Lima(EDT)
Max Anders looked out the window of his penthouse suite, as was his habit. A pall of smoke covered the south side of the city where unpowered members of the Empire 88 still held the police and PRT at bay. However, that was not what he was paying attention to. "So, our opponent has finally made an appearance?" he asked a rather shaken Victor.
"They've sent a 'messenger girl'," Victor politely corrected. "Unconditional and complete surrender." He watched his boss for his response.
"That could mean that they don't have the power to actually harm us," Max mused.
"Sir, begging your pardon, they could also be powerful enough to do exactly what they say, and can afford to be merciful."
"So noted," Max said, not really listening. "Explain that."
"I have spent some time looking into the matter," Victor answered, "using both popular culture and scholarly ones. One thing is blatantly clear. The older a dragon gets, the bigger it is.
"You've seen Naurelin and Andraste. Naurelin herself said she was young. Andraste is a bit bigger, and Naurelin shows deferential behavior to her. Hlal was much larger."
"How much larger?"
"Unsure, maybe four times the length? If my first point holds, then Hlal is very, very old, and very, very powerful. That Shaker trick she used on us alone would let her defeat an army in detail even when they're in close formation."
"I see." Max looked thoughtful. "For now, let's try to get the membership under control." He paced back and forth a bit as he thought. "I think they've caused enough trouble for now, and made our point for us."
Inwardly, Victor sighed. Max isn't getting it at all. This is going to go bad very, very fast.
"Now, what's up with Alabaster?"
"It's almost like his power thinks the only way to keep him safe is to keep him unconscious. He was up, briefly, for breakfast, before falling over again. This Hlal made quite an impression." Victor shook his head to clear it. "I'll get on the matter of getting the normals under control."
Max nodded. "I've heard a few things overnight that I'm not pleased about. Hopefully we can get things under control before…" From his position in the penthouse office at Medhall, he had a clear view of the area, including the sudden arrival of something normally seen only around the quarantine zones, actual PRT helicopter gunships. "...Things get out of hand."
"Too late, it appears. I'll grab Crusader, see what we can do," Victor added. "If we don't hassle the PRT, we shouldn't get hauled in. If not, we explain what we're trying to do, and they should let us go after some hassling."
Director Renick looked over the action reports from the night previous as he sat at his desk, drinking the first of many cups of coffee. There was a knock at his door. "Enter."
Emily Piggot walked in, still dressed in her field kit. "It's a fucking mess out there, Mike," she said. She went over to the coffee maker and started to pour herself a cup, then decided against it. "One of the factions within the Empire has gone berserk, probably for the murder of Stormtiger. It's so far contained in that neighborhood, but it risks spreading."
He nodded. "We need to stomp it flat in a way that keeps it from happening again, and before the Empire's Capes get involved. So far, it's only the normal rank and file."
"I'm willing to take suggestions," Emily said. "I have a few of my own, but they're along the lines of 'We had to burn the village down to save it'."
"Roy hasn't started yelling yet," Mike said, shaking his head, "and so far, he's been easy to deal with. The initiative you put in place to cooperate with local law enforcement and emergency services has been working, but there's still a lot of friction between us and the city. I'd hate to throw out all that work by cratering a neighborhood."
He handed Emily a hard copy of an email he'd received. "You might want to read this, it may change how things get handled."
"I'd ask what they're thinking," Emily deadpanned. "And that it's too little, too late. By extension, however, Gesellschaft and a number of other groups are going to have some trouble." Emily looked thoughtful for a bit. "I often wondered why legislators decided to hamstring the PRT but still expected us to somehow do our job."
"If you believe PHO, it's either a Ziz plot," Renick said with a smirk, "or a shadowy cabal controlling the government."
"Really, Mike? It's far too late in my day and far too early in yours for this kind of shit." There was no heat behind Emily's reply.
"Well, something is going on," Director Renick continued. "After Naurelin took down Lung you had me start keeping track of things that seemed out of place. I noticed a disturbing trend, though it's not really disturbing for us. As the number of dragons increases, so does the amount of common sense. Our last flashy event was the Bakuda incident, and you know who ended that. Squealer got scared straight – by Naurelin. Skidmark got blindsided by his own gang for doing something stupid – to a dragon. Uber & Leet have been remarkably well behaved, and are even getting all the permits required to hold their events – and they've got shipgirls looking over their shoulders.
"I won't mention the knock-on effects regionally, but it's not confined to that. The S9 was curb-stomped by a loner in Maine, not more than four hours north of here. The Dragonslayers were captured, and enough evidence of hacking PRT and Guild systems that those charges alone will put them away for a long time. Our tinkertech warships are helping to take care of the Machine Army. Nilbog's vanished." He leaned back in his chair, looking at Emily. "It all began with a dragon appearing in Brockton Bay."
Emily considered what Mike had told her. She knew there were far more dragons than the PRT had on record in the Bay area. "Maybe not so much a dragon appearing," she mused, "but aligning itself with a faction." Or a sufficient number of dragons in one place. We have eight of them in the Bay area alone. I wonder how many more there are?
Mike Renick nodded. "Whatever is happening, it has had a calming effect on the very unstable situation here. I've got reports from the outlying offices that things are quieter than they have been for years, from Bangor to Boston. And Director Armstrong has told me that things there have been remarkably calm."
"That's well and good, Mike," Emily said with a yawn. "I've got to catch a couple hours rack time, then back out into the field. Things are about to get very nasty."
"I'm bored!" the youngest Ward, Mizuchi, griped. All the Wards were sitting around in their common area. They'd been told to report in for duty, and then told to wait. No patrols, no power related tasks. Just sit around, in costume, ready to go out, and work on various things, like homework, beating the pants off of each other at various video games, and making snacks in the kitchenette.
"Yes, Mizuchi, we know," said Vista, who was poking about the inside of a standard issue detachable belt pouch. "We all are."
"With all the violence going on," added Aegis, "and pretty much every PRT officer called up for emergency duty, that leaves nothing we can get done except wait to be told to go home, or actually get to go patrol someplace safe, like Captain's Hill."
"Then the one percenters start complaining," Clockblocker added, "and we get reassigned to someplace less safe, which right now would be the Boardwalk and downtown areas."
"And then the Youth Guard gets involved," glumly added Taylor. "And we're back to the start of the cycle again. We either get in trouble doing something, or we get in trouble going stir crazy. At least Kid Win can tinker."
"You could always try taking up a hobby," came Weaver's voice from her corner of the room. She had a small hand loom and was learning how to make fabric from her silk. "It's 70.71% likely to alleviate some boredom. Ow." She put the end of one finger in her mouth. "This shuttle is way too sharp. I'll have to write to the manufacturer."
"I kinda feel sorry for Vicky," Gallant commented, from where he sat at one of the computers. "She's going stir crazy at the hospital guarding Amy while the rest of New Wave is helping the Protectorate."
"At the very least you could be called out to help Panacea," Vista said to Naurelin. "I mean, you heal everything when you use one of your 'spells', right?"
"I'm pretty sure I do," said Taylor. "The strongest one I've got fixes everything – injuries, diseases, toxins, trauma, parasites… everything. But I can only do it three times in a day."
"Still, you've got that whole Coca-Cola thing going with another one, right?" asked Dennis.
"Coca-Cola thing?" The reference went over Taylor's head.
"You know, 'It brings good things to life…'?"
Missy held up her phone and played a soundbite of crickets chirping.
"Wow, tough crowd," Dennis said smirking, leaning back in his chair and pulling out his phone to poke at it.
"I do have a question for you, Clockblocker," Taylor said, suddenly looming in front of Dennis. "How did you know that?"
"There are three answers, one of which is correct, but all are likely," Dennis answered, calmly buffing his fingernails as he continued to look at his phone. "The first is that it's in your file. The second is that I found out from Panacea. The third one is this." With that, he turned his phone around, showing a single name and phone number on the screen. Hailey's name and number.
"I'm gonna have to see how I can buy that gossipy gossip who gossips discretion," muttered Naurelin under her breath.
Dennis' phone played its incoming message ringtone, and the message caused him to raise an eyebrow. "Huh, she says 'with real chocolate,'" he dutifully read.
Taylor's response was to sit down and repeatedly hit the table with her head.
Emily was watching things from the command post vehicle. Her two teams of troopers were assisting the BBPD's SWAT teams in trying to retake the north side of the area. That meant using the PRT's equipment to coordinate between the six squads participating. They were displayed in green on the monitors, while the twice as numerous members of the Empire were displayed in red.
"Console. Gunship One: be advised, Victor has shown up. Does not appear to be armed."
"Affirmative, Gunship One," console responded.
"Damn, this complicates things," Emily grumbled. "Miss Militia, Andraste: what do you see?"
"Andraste, have eyes on target. Appears to be arguing with one or more normals. There appears to be some dissension in the ranks, the skinhead in charge of the rabble is arguing with him. He's an idiot, he just took a swing at Victor. Predictable result."
"Affirmative Miss Militia." She keyed another channel. "All squads prepare to go on my mark. Three… two… one… mark."
Multiple whumps coming over microphones mean that the opening volley of tear gas and smoke had been fired over the barricades. She watched as the squads of men stayed perfectly still before moving into the cloud, protected from the gas by the masks they were wearing. Seconds counted down before the sounds of sporadic gunfire started. Within minutes, the first team reported in.
"Team one, contact made, objective secured, no casualties."
The sounds of suppressed fire came over the com channels. "Team two, contact made, some resistance. Shots fired, no friendlies, two perps down. Objective secured."
"Team five, objective secured."
"Andraste, Miss Militia: team four is about to be ambushed, requesting permission to intervene."
"Team four, hold one. Miss Militia, go." She could hear the short, sharp barks of the light caliber Mk. 12 SPR Miss Militia was using.
"Four down. Be advised, opforce have RPGs," the Protectorate cape reported.
"Console copies. Team four, proceed."
"Team three, object secured. Victor surrendered peacefully, wants to talk to you."
"Bring him in, we'll talk," was Emily's response.
From inside the command van, one could hear an enormous amount of gunfire erupt. "Team six. Need suppressive fire, our position." There was a burst of gunfire heard over the channel. "Man down!"
Emily keyed another channel. "Gunship One, suppressive fire on team six's objective. Cleared hot, cleared hot, cleared hot."
"Affirmative Andraste. Eyes on, engaging target now." There was the distinct thumping noise of the nose mounted grenade launcher as it fired a stream of confoam grenades into the area. "Fire mission complete, all activity ceased."
"Continue to remain on station, Gunship One."
"Gunship One copies."
"Team six, withdrawing with casualties. Objective is foamed."
Victor looked at the area around him. He'd offered no resistance when the seven man team stormed their position, unlike the idiots who opened fire on the officers, who had no fucks to give anymore. He was pretty sure that they'd live, though they'd spend weeks in the hospital healing normally. Panacea was known not to heal gang members who'd been injured in the commission of a crime.
This situation was now completely out of control. Stormtiger's men wanted bloody revenge, and were calling the rest of the Empire 'weak' and 'cowards' for not doing anything. When the chief idiot drew a knife and attempted to stick it in him he'd shown the man why that was a bad idea, breaking the arm with a quick twist and yank.
Then the smoke and tear gas grenades started dropping, and PRT troopers stormed the barricades.
Victor was one of those individuals who weren't affected by tear gas, so he just stood there and waited, hands at his sides, his power on a short leash. He was cuffed, a necessity given that he was well known in Brockton Bay, but wasn't treated roughly, unlike some of the others.
"I'd like to speak to whoever is in charge," he asked in a civil tone, "please."
The trooper nodded, and sent the report up the line. A few seconds later, he got a reply back. "Andraste and Miss Militia will talk to you after processing."
Victor nodded. "Good enough." Sure that they had video footage of him being a late arrival and trying to talk down the idiot, only for him to attack… yeah, he'd probably be released from custody, most likely to deliver a message to Kaiser. Which was just fine with him.
Max Anders looked out the window of his penthouse suite, as was his habit. A pall of smoke covered the south side of the city where unpowered members of the Empire 88 still held the police and PRT at bay. However, that was not what he was paying attention to. "So, our opponent has finally made an appearance?" he asked a rather shaken Victor.
"They've sent a 'messenger girl'," Victor politely corrected. "Unconditional and complete surrender." He watched his boss for his response.
"That could mean that they don't have the power to actually harm us," Max mused.
"Sir, begging your pardon, they could also be powerful enough to do exactly what they say, and can afford to be merciful."
"So noted," Max said, not really listening. "Explain that."
"I have spent some time looking into the matter," Victor answered, "using both popular culture and scholarly ones. One thing is blatantly clear. The older a dragon gets, the bigger it is.
"You've seen Naurelin and Andraste. Naurelin herself said she was young. Andraste is a bit bigger, and Naurelin shows deferential behavior to her. Hlal was much larger."
"How much larger?"
"Unsure, maybe four times the length? If my first point holds, then Hlal is very, very old, and very, very powerful. That Shaker trick she used on us alone would let her defeat an army in detail even when they're in close formation."
"I see." Max looked thoughtful. "For now, let's try to get the membership under control." He paced back and forth a bit as he thought. "I think they've caused enough trouble for now, and made our point for us."
Inwardly, Victor sighed. Max isn't getting it at all. This is going to go bad very, very fast.
"Now, what's up with Alabaster?"
"It's almost like his power thinks the only way to keep him safe is to keep him unconscious. He was up, briefly, for breakfast, before falling over again. This Hlal made quite an impression." Victor shook his head to clear it. "I'll get on the matter of getting the normals under control."
Max nodded. "I've heard a few things overnight that I'm not pleased about. Hopefully we can get things under control before…" From his position in the penthouse office at Medhall, he had a clear view of the area, including the sudden arrival of something normally seen only around the quarantine zones, actual PRT helicopter gunships. "...Things get out of hand."
"Too late, it appears. I'll grab Crusader, see what we can do," Victor added. "If we don't hassle the PRT, we shouldn't get hauled in. If not, we explain what we're trying to do, and they should let us go after some hassling."
//\\//\\//\\
Director Renick looked over the action reports from the night previous as he sat at his desk, drinking the first of many cups of coffee. There was a knock at his door. "Enter."
Emily Piggot walked in, still dressed in her field kit. "It's a fucking mess out there, Mike," she said. She went over to the coffee maker and started to pour herself a cup, then decided against it. "One of the factions within the Empire has gone berserk, probably for the murder of Stormtiger. It's so far contained in that neighborhood, but it risks spreading."
He nodded. "We need to stomp it flat in a way that keeps it from happening again, and before the Empire's Capes get involved. So far, it's only the normal rank and file."
"I'm willing to take suggestions," Emily said. "I have a few of my own, but they're along the lines of 'We had to burn the village down to save it'."
"Roy hasn't started yelling yet," Mike said, shaking his head, "and so far, he's been easy to deal with. The initiative you put in place to cooperate with local law enforcement and emergency services has been working, but there's still a lot of friction between us and the city. I'd hate to throw out all that work by cratering a neighborhood."
He handed Emily a hard copy of an email he'd received. "You might want to read this, it may change how things get handled."
"I'd ask what they're thinking," Emily deadpanned. "And that it's too little, too late. By extension, however, Gesellschaft and a number of other groups are going to have some trouble." Emily looked thoughtful for a bit. "I often wondered why legislators decided to hamstring the PRT but still expected us to somehow do our job."
"If you believe PHO, it's either a Ziz plot," Renick said with a smirk, "or a shadowy cabal controlling the government."
"Really, Mike? It's far too late in my day and far too early in yours for this kind of shit." There was no heat behind Emily's reply.
"Well, something is going on," Director Renick continued. "After Naurelin took down Lung you had me start keeping track of things that seemed out of place. I noticed a disturbing trend, though it's not really disturbing for us. As the number of dragons increases, so does the amount of common sense. Our last flashy event was the Bakuda incident, and you know who ended that. Squealer got scared straight – by Naurelin. Skidmark got blindsided by his own gang for doing something stupid – to a dragon. Uber & Leet have been remarkably well behaved, and are even getting all the permits required to hold their events – and they've got shipgirls looking over their shoulders.
"I won't mention the knock-on effects regionally, but it's not confined to that. The S9 was curb-stomped by a loner in Maine, not more than four hours north of here. The Dragonslayers were captured, and enough evidence of hacking PRT and Guild systems that those charges alone will put them away for a long time. Our tinkertech warships are helping to take care of the Machine Army. Nilbog's vanished." He leaned back in his chair, looking at Emily. "It all began with a dragon appearing in Brockton Bay."
Emily considered what Mike had told her. She knew there were far more dragons than the PRT had on record in the Bay area. "Maybe not so much a dragon appearing," she mused, "but aligning itself with a faction." Or a sufficient number of dragons in one place. We have eight of them in the Bay area alone. I wonder how many more there are?
Mike Renick nodded. "Whatever is happening, it has had a calming effect on the very unstable situation here. I've got reports from the outlying offices that things are quieter than they have been for years, from Bangor to Boston. And Director Armstrong has told me that things there have been remarkably calm."
"That's well and good, Mike," Emily said with a yawn. "I've got to catch a couple hours rack time, then back out into the field. Things are about to get very nasty."
//\\//\\//\\
"I'm bored!" the youngest Ward, Mizuchi, griped. All the Wards were sitting around in their common area. They'd been told to report in for duty, and then told to wait. No patrols, no power related tasks. Just sit around, in costume, ready to go out, and work on various things, like homework, beating the pants off of each other at various video games, and making snacks in the kitchenette.
"Yes, Mizuchi, we know," said Vista, who was poking about the inside of a standard issue detachable belt pouch. "We all are."
"With all the violence going on," added Aegis, "and pretty much every PRT officer called up for emergency duty, that leaves nothing we can get done except wait to be told to go home, or actually get to go patrol someplace safe, like Captain's Hill."
"Then the one percenters start complaining," Clockblocker added, "and we get reassigned to someplace less safe, which right now would be the Boardwalk and downtown areas."
"And then the Youth Guard gets involved," glumly added Taylor. "And we're back to the start of the cycle again. We either get in trouble doing something, or we get in trouble going stir crazy. At least Kid Win can tinker."
"You could always try taking up a hobby," came Weaver's voice from her corner of the room. She had a small hand loom and was learning how to make fabric from her silk. "It's 70.71% likely to alleviate some boredom. Ow." She put the end of one finger in her mouth. "This shuttle is way too sharp. I'll have to write to the manufacturer."
"I kinda feel sorry for Vicky," Gallant commented, from where he sat at one of the computers. "She's going stir crazy at the hospital guarding Amy while the rest of New Wave is helping the Protectorate."
"At the very least you could be called out to help Panacea," Vista said to Naurelin. "I mean, you heal everything when you use one of your 'spells', right?"
"I'm pretty sure I do," said Taylor. "The strongest one I've got fixes everything – injuries, diseases, toxins, trauma, parasites… everything. But I can only do it three times in a day."
"Still, you've got that whole Coca-Cola thing going with another one, right?" asked Dennis.
"Coca-Cola thing?" The reference went over Taylor's head.
"You know, 'It brings good things to life…'?"
Missy held up her phone and played a soundbite of crickets chirping.
"Wow, tough crowd," Dennis said smirking, leaning back in his chair and pulling out his phone to poke at it.
"I do have a question for you, Clockblocker," Taylor said, suddenly looming in front of Dennis. "How did you know that?"
"There are three answers, one of which is correct, but all are likely," Dennis answered, calmly buffing his fingernails as he continued to look at his phone. "The first is that it's in your file. The second is that I found out from Panacea. The third one is this." With that, he turned his phone around, showing a single name and phone number on the screen. Hailey's name and number.
"I'm gonna have to see how I can buy that gossipy gossip who gossips discretion," muttered Naurelin under her breath.
Dennis' phone played its incoming message ringtone, and the message caused him to raise an eyebrow. "Huh, she says 'with real chocolate,'" he dutifully read.
Taylor's response was to sit down and repeatedly hit the table with her head.
//\\//\\//\\
Emily was watching things from the command post vehicle. Her two teams of troopers were assisting the BBPD's SWAT teams in trying to retake the north side of the area. That meant using the PRT's equipment to coordinate between the six squads participating. They were displayed in green on the monitors, while the twice as numerous members of the Empire were displayed in red.
"Console. Gunship One: be advised, Victor has shown up. Does not appear to be armed."
"Affirmative, Gunship One," console responded.
"Damn, this complicates things," Emily grumbled. "Miss Militia, Andraste: what do you see?"
"Andraste, have eyes on target. Appears to be arguing with one or more normals. There appears to be some dissension in the ranks, the skinhead in charge of the rabble is arguing with him. He's an idiot, he just took a swing at Victor. Predictable result."
"Affirmative Miss Militia." She keyed another channel. "All squads prepare to go on my mark. Three… two… one… mark."
Multiple whumps coming over microphones mean that the opening volley of tear gas and smoke had been fired over the barricades. She watched as the squads of men stayed perfectly still before moving into the cloud, protected from the gas by the masks they were wearing. Seconds counted down before the sounds of sporadic gunfire started. Within minutes, the first team reported in.
"Team one, contact made, objective secured, no casualties."
The sounds of suppressed fire came over the com channels. "Team two, contact made, some resistance. Shots fired, no friendlies, two perps down. Objective secured."
"Team five, objective secured."
"Andraste, Miss Militia: team four is about to be ambushed, requesting permission to intervene."
"Team four, hold one. Miss Militia, go." She could hear the short, sharp barks of the light caliber Mk. 12 SPR Miss Militia was using.
"Four down. Be advised, opforce have RPGs," the Protectorate cape reported.
"Console copies. Team four, proceed."
"Team three, object secured. Victor surrendered peacefully, wants to talk to you."
"Bring him in, we'll talk," was Emily's response.
From inside the command van, one could hear an enormous amount of gunfire erupt. "Team six. Need suppressive fire, our position." There was a burst of gunfire heard over the channel. "Man down!"
Emily keyed another channel. "Gunship One, suppressive fire on team six's objective. Cleared hot, cleared hot, cleared hot."
"Affirmative Andraste. Eyes on, engaging target now." There was the distinct thumping noise of the nose mounted grenade launcher as it fired a stream of confoam grenades into the area. "Fire mission complete, all activity ceased."
"Continue to remain on station, Gunship One."
"Gunship One copies."
"Team six, withdrawing with casualties. Objective is foamed."
- - - - - - - - - -
Victor looked at the area around him. He'd offered no resistance when the seven man team stormed their position, unlike the idiots who opened fire on the officers, who had no fucks to give anymore. He was pretty sure that they'd live, though they'd spend weeks in the hospital healing normally. Panacea was known not to heal gang members who'd been injured in the commission of a crime.
This situation was now completely out of control. Stormtiger's men wanted bloody revenge, and were calling the rest of the Empire 'weak' and 'cowards' for not doing anything. When the chief idiot drew a knife and attempted to stick it in him he'd shown the man why that was a bad idea, breaking the arm with a quick twist and yank.
Then the smoke and tear gas grenades started dropping, and PRT troopers stormed the barricades.
Victor was one of those individuals who weren't affected by tear gas, so he just stood there and waited, hands at his sides, his power on a short leash. He was cuffed, a necessity given that he was well known in Brockton Bay, but wasn't treated roughly, unlike some of the others.
"I'd like to speak to whoever is in charge," he asked in a civil tone, "please."
The trooper nodded, and sent the report up the line. A few seconds later, he got a reply back. "Andraste and Miss Militia will talk to you after processing."
Victor nodded. "Good enough." Sure that they had video footage of him being a late arrival and trying to talk down the idiot, only for him to attack… yeah, he'd probably be released from custody, most likely to deliver a message to Kaiser. Which was just fine with him.
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- Location
- united states
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
LostArchivist
Sane, unfortunately.
- Location
- The State of Confusion
Funny, that. Isn't Alabastard one of the ones who's a true nazi who'd attack right now, otherwise? It is odd to see powers being actively protective, though, instead of pushing for a fight. Probably it knows that he'd get mulched if he tried, so there's no point.
I guess that's the failure mode when even superpowers are outpowered.
This made me laugh. She KNOWS.
Also, there might be a typo. You've got the last part of her title "who gossips" but that's a present-tense verb. That's in the phrase "buy <her> discretion" and you can't really match up the verb (or make it possessive) with the "...discretion" ending. I like the sentence, but it's hard to parse. Hopefully there's a way to fix that while still keeping the grumpy name-calling.
- Location
- USA
"...brings good things to life", wasn't that General Electric's slogan not Coca-Cola? Obviously Coke could have a different slogan on Earth-Bet, but GE has been using that one for a long time, since the late 70's. Coke Slogan
- Location
- Wonderland
The ball continues rolling downhill.
You have some typos here.
You have some typos here.
berserk (from bear sarkr)
Gesellschaft
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- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
The term "Gosspy gossip who gossips" fits neatly into that "<her>" chunk, when I read that phrase. At first glance it looks wrong, but on a second glance it scans fine.
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Personally, I just spell it 'neo-Nazi assholes'. Much simpler than remembering what they call themselvesMinor authorial gripe:
Not all that long ago, someone jumped on me about spelling Ges(s)ellschaft with one 's'.
Now, I have (albeit a much politer) complaint about spelling it with two 's's.
WHICH IS IT???
According to the wiki, it's Gesellschaft.Minor authorial gripe:
Not all that long ago, someone jumped on me about spelling Ges(s)ellschaft with one 's'.
Now, I have (albeit a much politer) complaint about spelling it with two 's's.
WHICH IS IT???
But it's your universe. Hell, I've seen a story where Twice H. Pieceman is called Twice H. Pierceman instead, and I don't complain.
Pyrion
Asuran Rights Activist
- Location
- Spirit Lake, ID
And spelling-wise, it is one-s, not two. "Gesellschaft."
Leechblade
Orientation Nitpicking
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Umm....
Most of the possible antagonists seem gone.
Most of the possible antagonists seem gone.
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Don't worry, there's still the undead dragon god bent on the death of everything (but especially all other dragons), Cauldron, Endbringers, and others.
Well, it wouldn't be summer shenanigans if we didn't get a beach episode.