Question 6

[Voidus]

Posts about the Scottish Highlands are all-glens.

[Kobold King he/him]

PMs about mineral-rich wetlands are all-fens.

[Voidus]

Posts about small birds in the Autumn are Fall-Wrens.

[Seonid he/him]

And posts involving wolves must then be All-Dens

[Voidus]

New Epic in the Thought town fight that Mailliws called dibs on-
Half-light:
Primary power: Shadow form- can fuse with a shadow and instantly appear anywhere inside of it however shining a bright light inside of the shadow causes pain and may force him to reappear.
Secondary power: Light absorption- While in physical form he can absorb light from a source and use it to power bolts of dark energy.

Feedback as always is appreciated.

Also just to keep the flow going:
Posts involving males in the barbie universe are All-Kens

[Kobold King he/him]

New Epic in the Thought town fight that Mailliws called dibs on-

Half-light:

Primary power: Shadow form- can fuse with a shadow and instantly appear anywhere inside of it however shining a bright light inside of the shadow causes pain and may force him to reappear.

Secondary power: Light absorption- While in physical form he can absorb light from a source and use it to power bolts of dark energy.

Feedback as always is appreciated.

Also just to keep the flow going:

Posts involving males in the barbie universe are All-Kens

 

It'd be interesting to see that guy go up against Glamour. Very interesting.

 

 

Also, PMs involving the ancient Egyptian concept of the True Name are all-Ren. (I'm kind of stretching at this point. )

[Seonid he/him]

Posts that involve 50-dollar bills are All-Bens (sorry, American currency reference)

[mail-mi he/him]

Conventions where everyone decides to dress up as the same Wheel of Time character are All-Rands

[Voidus]

It'd be interesting to see that guy go up against Glamour. Very interesting.

 

 

Also, PMs involving the ancient Egyptian concept of the True Name are all-Ren. (I'm kind of stretching at this point. )

Well if he lives after the fight he might migrate to the Dalles, I expect quite a few members of the MEE will to provide a continued source of canon fodder.

PMs involving Funtimes are all-fruitloops (Funtimes rejects your notions of consistency of rhyming schemes)

[Voidus]

Mostly just added this for some backstory but when I added that last shadow Epic to the MEE lineup I decided to bunch a few of my darkness and shadow Epics together into a group which once or possibly presently exists/ed somewhere... I'm still working on details.

 

League of Shadows:
Shadowstep: Shadow merging passive ability, merges into any shadows he comes into contact with, allowing instant travel across a shadow or seeming invisibility while hiding in the shadow. Former member, currently in the MEE.
Flicker: Can teleport only while in shadows, can also produce an EMP which temporarily shorts out electronics.

Nightshade: Can ‘pull’ an object or beings shadow from the ground causing it to become a 3 dimensional object capable of everything the possessor of the shadow is capable of (Excluding Epic abilities), living shadows will obey orders given by Nightshade
Midnight Tears: Can suck all light from a room, becomes completely intangible when in darkness however can solidify parts of his body at will however any parts of his body that become solid while still in darkness slowly exude a thick black liquid. Typically gouges out his victims eyes to kill them, leaving his signature ‘black tears’ on the corpse.
DarkQuake: Can cause any shadows to become a solid surface and also capable of sending ripples or vibrations through that surface.
Twilight spark: Technically an energy Epic however his energy constructs draw in light from around them, capable of creating replicas of living beings which can act with a degree of free will but will obey any of his mental commands.
Eclipse: Illusionist who creates a bright halo around himself, but shrouds his body itself in darkness. The halo is bright enough to blind anyone looking directly at it.

And yes I did completely rip the name off from Batman because I am terrible at naming things

And now the obligatory:
Posts involving Bloody Mary are All-Reds

Edited February 6, 2015 by Voidus

[Edgedancer he/him]

Mostly just added this for some backstory but when I added that last shadow Epic to the MEE lineup I decided to bunch a few of my darkness and shadow Epics together into a group which once or possibly presently exists/ed somewhere... I'm still working on details.

 

League of Shadows:

Shadowstep: Shadow merging passive ability, merges into any shadows he comes into contact with, allowing instant travel across a shadow or seeming invisibility while hiding in the shadow. Former member, currently in the MEE.

Flicker: Can teleport only while in shadows, can also produce an EMP which temporarily shorts out electronics.

Nightshade: Can ‘pull’ an object or beings shadow from the ground causing it to become a 3 dimensional object capable of everything the possessor of the shadow is capable of (Excluding Epic abilities), living shadows will obey orders given by Nightshade

Midnight Tears: Can suck all light from a room, becomes completely intangible when in darkness however can solidify parts of his body at will however any parts of his body that become solid while still in darkness slowly exude a thick black liquid. Typically gouges out his victims eyes to kill them, leaving his signature ‘black tears’ on the corpse.

DarkQuake: Can cause any shadows to become a solid surface and also capable of sending ripples or vibrations through that surface.

Twilight spark: Technically an energy Epic however his energy constructs draw in light from around them, capable of creating replicas of living beings which can act with a degree of free will but will obey any of his mental commands.

Eclipse: Illusionist who creates a bright halo around himself, but shrouds his body itself in darkness. The halo is bright enough to blind anyone looking directly at it.

And yes I did completely rip the name off from Batman because I am terrible at naming things

And now the obligatory:

Posts involving Bloody Mary are All-Reds

I see the league of evil exes isn´t the only nebulous organisation anymore.

 

It´s Alan ahhhhhhhhhhh!! That psycho is All-beheadings.

[mail-mi he/him]

Posts about clocks in England are All-Bens

[Voidus]

I've just realized that the EoO thread is way behind on all my latest additions again.   
Quick, everyone kill the MEE faster so I can introduce more Epics!

Edited February 6, 2015 by Voidus

[Kobold King he/him]

My Internet connection keeps dying today, and I wrote this earlier when I couldn't connect to the forum.

 

Remember the mirrorverse we've discussed before?

 

That's what this is. Vanillas are Epics and Epics are vanillas. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

Milton had grown up in Portland. It wasn't easy to see its current position.

 

He navigated in between the crumbling homes and burned out shops, occasionally passing the rings of black roses that marked old graves. Over the past few years the city had slipped into a sorrier and sorrier state; the population was a scarce decimal of what it once boasted. Some of the citizens had fled to relative utopias like Astoria. Most had only found their way to cold graves with nothing but Darkrose's flowers to mark their passing.

 

It was different, once, Milton thought with frustration. This isn't the city where I grew up.

 

But it was. In the week since he'd come back from The Dalles, he'd seen the ruins. He recognized the burnt out skyline. He'd seen the ruins of his old high school, long since fallen into disrepair. He'd talked to surviving friends about the friends that didn't survive his absence. Frank. Rita. Joe. Normal men and women who'd crossed the tyrants who ruled this city.

 

His pondering of days gone by was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. Milton quickly fished out his mobile and held it to his face in response.

 

"We sent you on patrol an hour ago," Cormac's voice stated over the phone. "Is everything all right?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Milton replied, glancing around the deserted city street. "Just struck with a bit of nostalgia, I suppose."

 

"Well when you're done strolling down memory lane--or what's left of it, anyway--come on back to base. Thomas found out there's a MUSEUM here, God bless him, and I don't intend to be the only one hearing him go on about it."

 

"I'll be there," Milton said, grinning at the other man's discomfort. Cormac and the former professor never quite got along. To be fair, Thomas wasn't always the easiest man to get along with, but Milton always found his impromptu lectures interesting. It was like being back at school again, but without the bullies. And Thomas' theories about a primordial microraptor civilization lost to science were, if not conventional, at least entertaining.

 

Taking another look around at the city of his birth, Milton headed back to base.

 

If there was a way of reclaiming the Portland of his childhood, it lay with the Reckoners. And fortunately, he was a member.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Do I look amused, little Epic?"

 

The court was silent around the two Epics, servants vacating the room as their betters spoke. The Dalles' Epic stood resolutely before the throne, arms folded across her chest and her mouth curled into a sneer. The Epic known as Glass was a woman of average height, her face spotted with freckles and her dull red hair allowed to flow freely around her shoulders. She wore a thin green dress that showed far more bosom than a minister or a ranger should ever show. But then, Glass hadn't been either in years.

 

The throne itself was occupied by Darkrose. Newcomers to Portland were often surprised by her appearance. No older than seventeen, she was the youngest Epic to have carved out her own city-state. She cultivated a gothic appearance; she wore an ebony blouse now, with a pitch black miniskirt and tight leggings somewhere between violet and the color of blood. Since her awakening as a goddess, she'd further decorated her body with thorny tattoos up her bare arms and diamond earrings dangling from her lobes.

 

Today it felt like her hard-fought reputation had been stripped away, killed and withered under Glass's knowing stare.

 

Concealing her shimmering rage, Darkrose repeated herself. "I asked you a question, little Epic," she said haughtily. "Do you think I am amused? Do you think I find your claims and your disrespect funny? If so, let me be the first to tell you that you're on a one-way trip to a bed of roses." She gestured at the rings of black flowers that surrounded her throne in emphasis.

 

Glass seemed unfazed. "I know better than to make light of you, Samantha," she replied coolly. "I know what you've done to get where you are now. I know everything."

 

She plucked a black rose out of the ground, sniffing it before discarding it over her shoulder.

 

Darkrose gritted her teeth as she contemplated killing the arrogant Epic. There were those who said that the name 'Glass' referred to how she saw through the facades of others; how a person's face was transparent as glass to her. Glass had what seemed to be a unique Epic ability; at a glance, she could learn the entire history of a human being. Every thought. Every action. Every intention. She could somehow read Epics and vanillas like books, using the knowledge she gleaned to taunt them--and in the case of Epics, to topple them.

 

"You will use the name I have chosen for myself," Darkrose proclaimed, her temper flaring, "Or you will not use any name ever again. Is that clear?"

 

"Perfectly so," Glass answered with a smile. "But I will repeat, Darkrose: I have told no jests or lies in your presence. Springfield has indeed come to Portland, and a trail of Reckoners behind him."

 

"He has a procession of unicorns too, I take it?" Darkrose asked sarcastically. "Maybe a few bouncing leprechauns as his rear guard? You try to intimidate me with specters and bogeymen. Springfield is just another Epic, and the Reckoners are myths."

 

"Ah, contraire," the ginger Epic corrected. "The Reckoners are very real. I've seen them myself."

 

"And I suppose I should just take your word for it?" Darkrose remarked, doubt dripping from her voice.

 

"Take anyone's word for it," Glass smiled. "Everyone in The Dalles saw their attempted hit on Springfield. Everyone in The Dalles saw the leader of their cell as Springfield shot the brains out of him. Say the name 'Viktor Dyachenko,' and men, women and children will affirm who he was. He was the leader of a Reckoners cell, and when he died for his crimes, his cell followed Springfield here to avenge him."

 

Darkrose scowled at Glass skeptically, but finally nodded. "Supposing you speak the truth, then what do I have to fear? They can't hurt me."

 

"Bullets bounce off your skin," Glass affirmed. "You can swallow poisons without a moment's discomfort. An explosion can ruin your pretty clothes but it can't put a scratch on your body." Glass beamed and leaned slightly forward towards the throne.

 

"But the Reckoners find weaknesses. Somewhere in your past is the thing that will make your hard skin as soft and penetrable as any teenage girl's. It might be in with your father. Might be with your sister. Might be with your mother's bakery. You did a wonderful job of destroying everything from your past, but if you draw their attention, they will destroy you."

 

Glass turned her back on the throne, clasping her hands behind you. "Of course, I could help you."

 

"How?" Darkrose hissed. "Why should I not kill you for what you know, and face the Reckoners on my own? Am I supposed to think you're somehow better at fighting assassins then I am?"

 

"You are," affirmed Glass cheerfully. "Because I am. I can stand by your side. I can read everyone before they come into your presence. I can read the nefarious intentions of any Reckoner that comes near you. I can keep you alive."

 

Darkrose scowled long and hard at the red-haired Epic. She knew an infuriating amount of detail about her past--a past she'd worked hard to obscure. She'd killed her father, and her mother, and her sister. She'd burned that old bakery to the ground. Why should she let the one person who could dredge it all back up walk away from her alive?

 

Because, a grudging part of her acknowledged, she might not be the only one who can dredge it up.

 

"What would you ask in return?" Darkrose said slowly.

 

"Nothing you can't spare," Glass beamed in return. "An office. A window with a view. Maybe even a case of nice wine from time to time."

 

After a moment of thought, Darkrose nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

 

Her eyes narrowed, Darkrose stood up from her throne and strode towards the other Epic. Glass was the taller of the two, but Darkrose had spent much time learning the art of intimidation.

 

"If you let but a single assassin by," she whispered with menace. "If but a single one of your magical Reckoners gets through your reading--or if you call me Samantha one more time..."

 

A dim-witted server had entered the courtroom. Darkrose decided to use him as an example. She raised a ringed hand, which began slowly pulsating with dark energy. Instantly the server began coughing and spasming behind her, falling the ground and shaking as if taken by epilepsy.

 

In just five seconds, the man lay still. A ring of black roses, an odd quirk of her lethal ability, sprung up around him, joining the ever-growing field of flowers around the Darkrose throne.

 

Glass got the message, giving a curtsy and a smile.

 

"My garden grows daily," Darkrose intoned. "The rules for for not being fertilizer are simple: don't be a slontze. Think you can handle it?"

 

"I think I can," Glass affirmed.

 

"Good," the girl once known as Sam Trattner said with a faint grin. "Then I welcome you to the Dominion."

 

 

[Voidus]

Luckily for us, pugs are well known for preventing their owners from becoming genocidal Epic slontzes.

[Edgedancer he/him]

 

My Internet connection keeps dying today, and I wrote this earlier when I couldn't connect to the forum.

 

Remember the mirrorverse we've discussed before?

 

That's what this is. Vanillas are Epics and Epics are vanillas. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

Milton had grown up in Portland. It wasn't easy to see its current position.

 

He navigated in between the crumbling homes and burned out shops, occasionally passing the rings of black roses that marked old graves. Over the past few years the city had slipped into a sorrier and sorrier state; the population was a scarce decimal of what it once boasted. Some of the citizens had fled to relative utopias like Astoria. Most had only found their way to cold graves with nothing but Darkrose's flowers to mark their passing.

 

It was different, once, Milton thought with frustration. This isn't the city where I grew up.

 

But it was. In the week since he'd come back from The Dalles, he'd seen the ruins. He recognized the burnt out skyline. He'd seen the ruins of his old high school, long since fallen into disrepair. He'd talked to surviving friends about the friends that didn't survive his absence. Frank. Rita. Joe. Normal men and women who'd crossed the tyrants who ruled this city.

 

His pondering of days gone by was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. Milton quickly fished out his mobile and held it to his face in response.

 

"We sent you on patrol an hour ago," Cormac's voice stated over the phone. "Is everything all right?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Milton replied, glancing around the deserted city street. "Just struck with a bit of nostalgia, I suppose."

 

"Well when you're done strolling down memory lane--or what's left of it, anyway--come on back to base. Thomas found out there's a MUSEUM here, God bless him, and I don't intend to be the only one hearing him go on about it."

 

"I'll be there," Milton said, grinning at the other man's discomfort. Cormac and the former professor never quite got along. To be fair, Thomas wasn't always the easiest man to get along with, but Milton always found his impromptu lectures interesting. It was like being back at school again, but without the bullies. And Thomas' theories about a primordial microraptor civilization lost to science were, if not conventional, at least entertaining.

 

Taking another look around at the city of his birth, Milton headed back to base.

 

If there was a way of reclaiming the Portland of his childhood, it lay with the Reckoners. And fortunately, he was a member.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Do I look amused, little Epic?"

 

The court was silent around the two Epics, servants vacating the room as their betters spoke. The Dalles' Epic stood resolutely before the throne, arms folded across her chest and her mouth curled into a sneer. The Epic known as Glass was a woman of average height, her face spotted with freckles and her dull red hair allowed to flow freely around her shoulders. She wore a thin green dress that showed far more bosom than a minister or a ranger should ever show. But then, Glass hadn't been either in years.

 

The throne itself was occupied by Darkrose. Newcomers to Portland were often surprised by her appearance. No older than seventeen, she was the youngest Epic to have carved out her own city-state. She cultivated a gothic appearance; she wore an ebony blouse now, with a pitch black miniskirt and tight leggings somewhere between violet and the color of blood. Since her awakening as a goddess, she'd further decorated her body with thorny tattoos up her bare arms and diamond earrings dangling from her lobes.

 

Today it felt like her hard-fought reputation had been stripped away, killed and withered under Glass's knowing stare.

 

Concealing her shimmering rage, Darkrose repeated herself. "I asked you a question, little Epic," she said haughtily. "Do you think I am amused? Do you think I find your claims and your disrespect funny? If so, let me be the first to tell you that you're on a one-way trip to a bed of roses." She gestured at the rings of black flowers that surrounded her throne in emphasis.

 

Glass seemed unfazed. "I know better than to make light of you, Samantha," she replied coolly. "I know what you've done to get where you are now. I know everything."

 

She plucked a black rose out of the ground, sniffing it before discarding it over her shoulder.

 

Darkrose gritted her teeth as she contemplated killing the arrogant Epic. There were those who said that the name 'Glass' referred to how she saw through the facades of others; how a person's face was transparent as glass to her. Glass had what seemed to be a unique Epic ability; at a glance, she could learn the entire history of a human being. Every thought. Every action. Every intention. She could somehow read Epics and vanillas like books, using the knowledge she gleaned to taunt them--and in the case of Epics, to topple them.

 

"You will use the name I have chosen for myself," Darkrose proclaimed, her temper flaring, "Or you will not use any name ever again. Is that clear?"

 

"Perfectly so," Glass answered with a smile. "But I will repeat, Darkrose: I have told no jests or lies in your presence. Springfield has indeed come to Portland, and a trail of Reckoners behind him."

 

"He has a procession of unicorns too, I take it?" Darkrose asked sarcastically. "Maybe a few bouncing leprechauns as his rear guard? You try to intimidate me with specters and bogeymen. Springfield is just another Epic, and the Reckoners are myths."

 

"Ah, contraire," the ginger Epic corrected. "The Reckoners are very real. I've seen them myself."

 

"And I suppose I should just take your word for it?" Darkrose remarked, doubt dripping from her voice.

 

"Take anyone's word for it," Glass smiled. "Everyone in The Dalles saw their attempted hit on Springfield. Everyone in The Dalles saw the leader of their cell as Springfield shot the brains out of him. Say the name 'Viktor Dyachenko,' and men, women and children will affirm who he was. He was the leader of a Reckoners cell, and when he died for his crimes, his cell followed Springfield here to avenge him."

 

Darkrose scowled at Glass skeptically, but finally nodded. "Supposing you speak the truth, then what do I have to fear? They can't hurt me."

 

"Bullets bounce off your skin," Glass affirmed. "You can swallow poisons without a moment's discomfort. An explosion can ruin your pretty clothes but it can't put a scratch on your body." Glass beamed and leaned slightly forward towards the throne.

 

"But the Reckoners find weaknesses. Somewhere in your past is the thing that will make your hard skin as soft and penetrable as any teenage girl's. It might be in with your father. Might be with your sister. Might be with your mother's bakery. You did a wonderful job of destroying everything from your past, but if you draw their attention, they will destroy you."

 

Glass turned her back on the throne, clasping her hands behind you. "Of course, I could help you."

 

"How?" Darkrose hissed. "Why should I not kill you for what you know, and face the Reckoners on my own? Am I supposed to think you're somehow better at fighting assassins then I am?"

 

"You are," affirmed Glass cheerfully. "Because I am. I can stand by your side. I can read everyone before they come into your presence. I can read the nefarious intentions of any Reckoner that comes near you. I can keep you alive."

 

Darkrose scowled long and hard at the red-haired Epic. She knew an infuriating amount of detail about her past--a past she'd worked hard to obscure. She'd killed her father, and her mother, and her sister. She'd burned that old bakery to the ground. Why should she let the one person who could dredge it all back up walk away from her alive?

 

Because, a grudging part of her acknowledged, she might not be the only one who can dredge it up.

 

"What would you ask in return?" Darkrose said slowly.

 

"Nothing you can't spare," Glass beamed in return. "An office. A window with a view. Maybe even a case of nice wine from time to time."

 

After a moment of thought, Darkrose nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

 

Her eyes narrowed, Darkrose stood up from her throne and strode towards the other Epic. Glass was the taller of the two, but Darkrose had spent much time learning the art of intimidation.

 

"If you let but a single assassin by," she whispered with menace. "If but a single one of your magical Reckoners gets through your reading--or if you call me Samantha one more time..."

 

A dim-witted server had entered the courtroom. Darkrose decided to use him as an example. She raised a ringed hand, which began slowly pulsating with dark energy. Instantly the server began coughing and spasming behind her, falling the ground and shaking as if taken by epilepsy.

 

In just five seconds, the man lay still. A ring of black roses, an odd quirk of her lethal ability, sprung up around him, joining the ever-growing field of flowers around the Darkrose throne.

 

Glass got the message, giving a curtsy and a smile.

 

"My garden grows daily," Darkrose intoned. "The rules for for not being fertilizer are simple: don't be a slontze. Think you can handle it?"

 

"I think I can," Glass affirmed.

 

"Good," the girl once known as Sam Trattner said with a faint grin. "Then I welcome you to the Dominion."

 

Yikes. I wonder how Astoria managed to become a paradise, though. Also you killed Voidgaze, you monster!

 

I also just realized that no one will get why the name Alan makes me jump so much.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

My Internet connection keeps dying today, and I wrote this earlier when I couldn't connect to the forum.

Remember the mirrorverse we've discussed before?

That's what this is. Vanillas are Epics and Epics are vanillas. Enjoy.

Milton had grown up in Portland. It wasn't easy to see its current position.

He navigated in between the crumbling homes and burned out shops, occasionally passing the rings of black roses that marked old graves. Over the past few years the city had slipped into a sorrier and sorrier state; the population was a scarce decimal of what it once boasted. Some of the citizens had fled to relative utopias like Astoria. Most had only found their way to cold graves with nothing but Darkrose's flowers to mark their passing.

It was different, once, Milton thought with frustration. This isn't the city where I grew up.

But it was. In the week since he'd come back from The Dalles, he'd seen the ruins. He recognized the burnt out skyline. He'd seen the ruins of his old high school, long since fallen into disrepair. He'd talked to surviving friends about the friends that didn't survive his absence. Frank. Rita. Joe. Normal men and women who'd crossed the tyrants who ruled this city.

His pondering of days gone by was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. Milton quickly fished out his mobile and held it to his face in response.

"We sent you on patrol an hour ago," Cormac's voice stated over the phone. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Milton replied, glancing around the deserted city street. "Just struck with a bit of nostalgia, I suppose."

"Well when you're done strolling down memory lane--or what's left of it, anyway--come on back to base. Thomas found out there's a MUSEUM here, God bless him, and I don't intend to be the only one hearing him go on about it."

"I'll be there," Milton said, grinning at the other man's discomfort. Cormac and the former professor never quite got along. To be fair, Thomas wasn't always the easiest man to get along with, but Milton always found his impromptu lectures interesting. It was like being back at school again, but without the bullies. And Thomas' theories about a primordial microraptor civilization lost to science were, if not conventional, at least entertaining.

Taking another look around at the city of his birth, Milton headed back to base.

If there was a way of reclaiming the Portland of his childhood, it lay with the Reckoners. And fortunately, he was a member.

"Do I look amused, little Epic?"

The court was silent around the two Epics, servants vacating the room as their betters spoke. The Dalles' Epic stood resolutely before the throne, arms folded across her chest and her mouth curled into a sneer. The Epic known as Glass was a woman of average height, her face spotted with freckles and her dull red hair allowed to flow freely around her shoulders. She wore a thin green dress that showed far more bosom than a minister or a ranger should ever show. But then, Glass hadn't been either in years.

The throne itself was occupied by Darkrose. Newcomers to Portland were often surprised by her appearance. No older than seventeen, she was the youngest Epic to have carved out her own city-state. She cultivated a gothic appearance; she wore an ebony blouse now, with a pitch black miniskirt and tight leggings somewhere between violet and the color of blood. Since her awakening as a goddess, she'd further decorated her body with thorny tattoos up her bare arms and diamond earrings dangling from her lobes.

Today it felt like her hard-fought reputation had been stripped away, killed and withered under Glass's knowing stare.

Concealing her shimmering rage, Darkrose repeated herself. "I asked you a question, little Epic," she said haughtily. "Do you think I am amused? Do you think I find your claims and your disrespect funny? If so, let me be the first to tell you that you're on a one-way trip to a bed of roses." She gestured at the rings of black flowers that surrounded her throne in emphasis.

Glass seemed unfazed. "I know better than to make light of you, Samantha," she replied coolly. "I know what you've done to get where you are now. I know everything."

She plucked a black rose out of the ground, sniffing it before discarding it over her shoulder.

Darkrose gritted her teeth as she contemplated killing the arrogant Epic. There were those who said that the name 'Glass' referred to how she saw through the facades of others; how a person's face was transparent as glass to her. Glass had what seemed to be a unique Epic ability; at a glance, she could learn the entire history of a human being. Every thought. Every action. Every intention. She could somehow read Epics and vanillas like books, using the knowledge she gleaned to taunt them--and in the case of Epics, to topple them.

"You will use the name I have chosen for myself," Darkrose proclaimed, her temper flaring, "Or you will not use any name ever again. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly so," Glass answered with a smile. "But I will repeat, Darkrose: I have told no jests or lies in your presence. Springfield has indeed come to Portland, and a trail of Reckoners behind him."

"He has a procession of unicorns too, I take it?" Darkrose asked sarcastically. "Maybe a few bouncing leprechauns as his rear guard? You try to intimidate me with specters and bogeymen. Springfield is just another Epic, and the Reckoners are myths."

"Ah, contraire," the ginger Epic corrected. "The Reckoners are very real. I've seen them myself."

"And I suppose I should just take your word for it?" Darkrose remarked, doubt dripping from her voice.

"Take anyone's word for it," Glass smiled. "Everyone in The Dalles saw their attempted hit on Springfield. Everyone in The Dalles saw the leader of their cell as Springfield shot the brains out of him. Say the name 'Viktor Dyachenko,' and men, women and children will affirm who he was. He was the leader of a Reckoners cell, and when he died for his crimes, his cell followed Springfield here to avenge him."

Darkrose scowled at Glass skeptically, but finally nodded. "Supposing you speak the truth, then what do I have to fear? They can't hurt me."

"Bullets bounce off your skin," Glass affirmed. "You can swallow poisons without a moment's discomfort. An explosion can ruin your pretty clothes but it can't put a scratch on your body." Glass beamed and leaned slightly forward towards the throne.

"But the Reckoners find weaknesses. Somewhere in your past is the thing that will make your hard skin as soft and penetrable as any teenage girl's. It might be in with your father. Might be with your sister. Might be with your mother's bakery. You did a wonderful job of destroying everything from your past, but if you draw their attention, they will destroy you."

Glass turned her back on the throne, clasping her hands behind you. "Of course, I could help you."

"How?" Darkrose hissed. "Why should I not kill you for what you know, and face the Reckoners on my own? Am I supposed to think you're somehow better at fighting assassins then I am?"

"You are," affirmed Glass cheerfully. "Because I am. I can stand by your side. I can read everyone before they come into your presence. I can read the nefarious intentions of any Reckoner that comes near you. I can keep you alive."

Darkrose scowled long and hard at the red-haired Epic. She knew an infuriating amount of detail about her past--a past she'd worked hard to obscure. She'd killed her father, and her mother, and her sister. She'd burned that old bakery to the ground. Why should she let the one person who could dredge it all back up walk away from her alive?

Because, a grudging part of her acknowledged, she might not be the only one who can dredge it up.

"What would you ask in return?" Darkrose said slowly.

"Nothing you can't spare," Glass beamed in return. "An office. A window with a view. Maybe even a case of nice wine from time to time."

After a moment of thought, Darkrose nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Her eyes narrowed, Darkrose stood up from her throne and strode towards the other Epic. Glass was the taller of the two, but Darkrose had spent much time learning the art of intimidation.

"If you let but a single assassin by," she whispered with menace. "If but a single one of your magical Reckoners gets through your reading--or if you call me Samantha one more time..."

A dim-witted server had entered the courtroom. Darkrose decided to use him as an example. She raised a ringed hand, which began slowly pulsating with dark energy. Instantly the server began coughing and spasming behind her, falling the ground and shaking as if taken by epilepsy.

In just five seconds, the man lay still. A ring of black roses, an odd quirk of her lethal ability, sprung up around him, joining the ever-growing field of flowers around the Darkrose throne.

Glass got the message, giving a curtsy and a smile.

"My garden grows daily," Darkrose intoned. "The rules for for not being fertilizer are simple: don't be a slontze. Think you can handle it?"

"I think I can," Glass affirmed.

"Good," the girl once known as Sam Trattner said with a faint grin. "Then I welcome you to the Dominion."

Viktor Dyachenko...Reckoner.

The HECK did I just read?

Upvote.

[Voidus]

Unfortunately in no alternate universe is Nighthound considered even vaguely human.
After all alternate universes are only other possibilities. Nighthound being human is just not possible at all.

[Kobold King he/him]

Luckily for us, pugs are well known for preventing their owners from becoming genocidal Epic slontzes.

 

Sunburst might become canon, but fortunately for all involved, Darkrose never will. (Unless the Trifecta captures Sam, at which point all bets are off.  )

 

 

Yikes. I wonder how Astoria managed to become a paradise, though. Also you killed Voidgaze, you monster!

 

I also just realized that no one will get why the name Alan makes me jump so much.

 

 

That's for you to either ponder or write. My headcanon was that Jeannie Jager became a Vondra-like mayor for Astoria, but who knows...

 

 

Viktor Dyachenko...Reckoner.

The HECK did I just read?

Upvote.

 

Not just a Reckoner. A Reckoner who met his demise while courageously standing up to the tyrannical Springfield.

[Voidus]

Am I the only one who's really curious about Springfields powers?

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Unfortunately in no alternate universe is Nighthound considered even vaguely human.

After all alternate universes are only other possibilities. Nighthound being human is just not possible at all.

Human!Quota is also absent from this universe. Maybe I should come up with a name for him.....

[Voidus]

Human!Quota is also absent from this universe. Maybe I should come up with a name for him.....

Quota isn't allowed a name until he stops plaguing our forum.

[Edgedancer he/him]

Viktor Dyachenko...Reckoner.

The HECK did I just read?

Upvote.

Interestingly a not corrupted Michael Jäger also would have a good chance at ending up with the Reckoners, so again they could be bff. (who knows he may lead the group hunting Springfield. )

 

That's for you to either ponder or write. My headcanon was that Jeannie Jager became a Vondra-like mayor for Astoria, but who knows...

Something for me to think about, huh.

[Kobold King he/him]

Am I the only one who's really curious about Springfields powers?

 

RAFO. Or better yet, write it and find out, since I have no idea.

 

 

Human!Quota is also absent from this universe. Maybe I should come up with a name for him.....

 

If you want anyone to be able to write sweet stories where he entertains small children and helps people to find joy in their lives despite their post-apocalyptic surroundings, then that would be a good idea.   

[Voidus]

Interestingly a not corrupted Michael Jäger also would have a good chance at ending up with the Reckoners, so again they could be bff. (who knows he may lead the group hunting Springfield. )

So the creator of Nighthound feels that he could exist in a non-corrupted state? Well I suppose in the face of such overwhelming evidence to the opposing side I'm going to have to... still believe that Nighthound's irredeemable.

Sorry Edge, he's just crossed the Slontze event horizon for me, there is no return.