The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
It was spring in the way that it could only be spring in New York City, and that meant it was basically winter. The streets were still perpetually damp with whatever moisture the lingering snow and ice could provide mixed with the runoff from things that had been buried under the snow and were just starting to thaw.
Assuming a new life, starting that life over, and adjusting to a world where he didn’t have to constantly hide had been all consuming. The him that had existed on this side of the rift had been pretty well known and to top things off had been married with a kid. Straightening that whole mess out had been a hell of a trip. Train had felt bad for the woman, Lee, and her son, but he hadn’t forced the other Tarin through the rift. They were still in the city, adjusting and living life in a similar way.
Good for them.
Old habits die hard though, and while Tarin didn’t feel the need to run out to an island of the dead, he’d spent the last few years simply existing in the city. He didn’t have friends and it had seemed weird to seek out any of Tarin’s family on this side of the rift. They were grieving a loss and there was nothing to do to help. In fact, his very existence in this world would probably feel like a slap in the face to them. So. Train Brooks had taken up residence in the shop that Lee had graciously let him assume, along with the modest funds that refugees had been allotted based on records they could produce from their previous lives. Despite the fact that he’d been living as a hermit on Hart Island during all of that, Tarin once again thanked himself for keeping good track of his finances…meager as they were.
The shop was essentially self-sufficient at this point, word of mouth and the openness of this world had allowed Tarin to set up a clientele that ranged from regulars who came to see loved ones they wanted to help ‘cross over’ (Whatever that meant), to people hoping to simply hear what they wanted to hear. The Medium’s shop didn’t discriminate and catered to all…for a price. Days had stretched into weeks, which had stretched into months and years. Life had settled into a comfortable monotony
Unfortunately, monotony was monotonous. The lack of meaningful contact with people was driving Tarin to spend more time talking to spirits and as long as he’d had his powers that had never led to anything good. Some of the spirits had been incredible people when they’d been alive, but the spark of life had left them at their death and they were static. They never changed. It wasn’t good for a man to mire down like that. It did things, opened channels that needed to stay closed.
So yeah. That’s why Tarin had been walking the streets on a less than picture perfect day, admiring the sights, sounds, and smells of New York City. It highlighted the other downside of spending so much time with the spirits though. The more attention they got, the more they wanted. The spirits thrived on the sips of life energy they were able to take from Tarin or that he gave them when a more corporeal form was warranted. They always wanted more, silly little junkies. A small crowd that nobody else could see gathered around him as he walked, sending bits and pieces of their horrifying deaths, almost like it was a contest. Yeah. Train needed to get out. The problem was figuring out where to get out and who to get out with.
Dating apps were out. This world was safer than his last, but something about declaring to the single population of New York City (And whoever else had their hands in the app data) that he was a mutant was more than Tarin could handle. Simply meeting friends was easier said than done too because who on earth wanted to hang out with a 39 year old with no other friends who literally lived in his place of business?
Aimless meandering had led Tarin to Central Park, unsurprising since it was within a block of the shop, there were always people in Central Park, right? People who didn’t mind mind strange men dressed in dark clothing coming up to them with little preamble and trying to make friends…ugh, why was this so hard?
As Tarin walked he noticed a commotion in one of the green areas ahead. It went against every instinct that Tarin possessed to think about walking in that direction and the spirits around him were encouraging him to walk the other way. That was the thing that decided it. Train headed towards the commotion. What was the old adage? If you do what you’ve always done…you’ll get what you’ve always got.
Central Park was a nice place to go and get some exercise when Ranger happened to be in Manhattan. Depending on the time of day it wasn’t worth the trip over just to run. Having been there for a meeting with SUPER earlier in the day, Ranger decided to take advantage of the end of the cooler weather.
Ranger had set out on a run with no real goal in mind. He just wanted to get his body moving, between running Blac-Tac and working for SUPER he was at a desk too much. Then when he got home he was spending time with Emma. Lifting and running would always be second fiddle to his daughter.
Having a nice run in the park therefore was an uncommon event, something to be savored. That made it exceedingly annoying when Ranger rounded a patch of trees and saw a couple of guys squared off at each other. They were shouting at each other. Actually, as Ranger pulled his earbuds out he could hear it was one guy yelling at another. A small crowd was starting to form but no one was involving themselves.
Smack.
Loudmouth had swung at the other guy and hit him in the diaphragm. Ranger sighed and yelled at the man as he ran closer to interject himself between the men. ”Okay. Break it up”
“Shove off, man.” Said the loud guy.
“... … uugh.” Said the windless guy.
”Nah. Y’all’re done, friend. Now move before I move y’.”
“It’s… Okay. I’m fine. Really.” The winded guy said, finally catching some air to speak.
”You were jus’ doe popped. Take a beat, breath.” Ranger said to the guy before catching movement out of the corner of his eye.
“I said, beat it!” The loud guy threw a punch, well telegraphed by the excessive arm swing.
Ranger side stepped out of the way of the punch before stepping in closer and striking the loud guy in the chest. The guy crumpled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.
“Bruh. Why?” Said the first winded guy. “I was fine. It was fine… Now I’m gonna be in it for sure.”
No good deed ever goes unpunished.
Ranger turned squarely to face the first winded guy, ”Okay. What’s goin’ on here; drug deal gone bad, lovers quarrel, did y’ get caught stealin’ his Gatchamon cards?”
The crowd that had gathered had cheered on Ranger when he had stepped in and tried to break up the fight. They had cheered when he dodged the punch. They seemed fairly split after Ranger engaged in a two-hit fight. He hit the loud guy and the loud guy hit the ground.
The split commotion plus turning fully toward the first guy to take a hit left Ranger unaware of when the man he had struck was climbing back to his feet, murder in his eyes.
Posted by Zek on Apr 17, 2024 19:47:42 GMT -6
Fuegogrande likes this
Gamma Mutant
Dinner first!
[redacted]
460
33
May 9, 2024 7:14:29 GMT -6
Zek
Did it really matter how this confrontation started? It's not like there were any historians around. Besides, the details weren't important, all that mattered was Zek had achieved his goal.
A well-placed jeer here and critical twisting of words there and he'd been able to egg these two guys into a brawl. It was almost too easy, even. The half-eaten ice cream cone that Zek had thrown at the louder guy's head and had then blamed on the now-winded guy by way of pointing at him has sealed the deal. The confectionary sacrifice was worth it though, because the bull-like roar had quicky attracted a crowd.
Until some jerk got in the way and tried to break things up.
"Hey, who invited the narc?" Zek shouted, getting up from the little folding table he'd been sitting at. He was in his customary black trenchcoat, tastefully ripped jeans, combat boots, and fingerless gloves, but this time he also had a green visor hat on because he was counting money.
"Okay I've got 4:1 odds on Breathless Boy!" Zek spoke to the people around him who were quickly laying down various amounts of bills. "Shouty Man just gets you standard odds - crowd favorite and all that - oh wait!"
Shouty Man was about to attack Buzzkill! Who seemed familiar to Zek but he couldn't remember from where. Seemed dangerous though. A vulpine grin spread across Zek's face. "Scratch that! 8:1 odds on Shouty Man! C'mon, Buzzkill! Hit him again!"
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 17, 2024 20:30:42 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,383
4
May 7, 2024 17:06:11 GMT -6
The commotion turned out to be a garden variety commotion. Tarin was honestly a bit relieved to find something as simple as two men throwing punches. The things his overactive imagination had cooked up in the short walk from the path to the green space has ranged from this exact scenario to something barely short of a nuclear bomb.
The problem with walking up on a commotion was that one had to decide whether or not they were going to intervene in the situation and if they chose to do so what they were going to do. Plenty of people had their phones out, plenty of them were recording the fight as it occurred. Tarin rolled his eyes, faith in humanity dwindling just a little bit further than it had already dwindled. It looked like someone else had already decided to step in and handle the fight though. For now, Tarin simply stood and listened. Something was up, the guy who’d been hit was insisting he was fine, and the other guy was ramping up more and more every second.
The entire situation definitely wasn’t helped by the little snot collecting money and odds on the fight. Besides, it was obvious who was going to win now that the random but highly capable jogger had stepped in. New York really was a melting pot.
”You don’t really think this is a good idea, right?” Tarin said, approaching the younger man. As he neared, Tarin put his hands in the pockets of his black overcoat. The collar was already popped, and he hoped he looked at least a little bit intimidating. ”There’s plenty I could say about the way I’m sure you’re not going to pay out on all those bets…but regardless things are about to get way more interesting and you’re giving terrible odds.”
“Bruh, it’s fine… Leave Billiam alone. I’m fine.” The first winded guy said.
Ranger narrowed his eyes at winded guy before catching a familiar voice. Something about Buzzkill. Ranger could deal with that later. ”Fine I’ll leave y’ alone. Breathin’s optional anyway.” Ranger threw up his hands and turned just as Billiam slammed into Ranger in the side.
A cry of, “You’re going to regret touching me!” filled the air as Ranger was bowled over by Billiam.
Ranger went down, but took hold of Billiam as he fell. One arm wrapping around Billiam’s neck holding it close, his other hand on the top of Billiam’s head. As he hit the ground he shoved Billiam’s head and worked his arm around the man’s neck placing him in a guillotine chokehold. Billiam’s face was driven into the dirt as Ranger closed off his air. Ranger screwed up his face in disgust as he felt ice cream squish between the pair of them.
“Bruh…Stop. Bruh! I said… Stop!” The first winded guy yelled at Ranger, a ripple flowing out of him. Like it was a slow motion passenger on the soundwaves from the man.
As the waves flowed over Ranger, he felt his arm slacking. The force of the choke loosening enough that Billiam could gasp in a breath.
Zek was quickly splitting up some of the bills that another bystander was laying down on his cheap table when a fantastically dressed man walked up and began espousing opinions. "Hey mate, you're blocking the view!" Zek said, even though he could still see the fight. Rather, the guy was blocking his view of part of the crowd and Zek needed to keep an eye out for prospective betters. True, such a spontaneous crowd wasn't the best for an impromptu betting ring, but there were always a few in every crowd and some people just needed to get caught up in the frenzy first.
"I think this is a great idea!" Zek said with a delighted grin. "There's some addicts here, I'll betcha. Can't resist a good bet! Or even a bad one!" His irises were starting to glow with yellow light and his pupils were glowing bright blue. His normally brown eyes couldn't turn green, but this was the closest he could get.
He winked at the other man in a long black coat. "So you want in or not? Looks like this is gonna wrap up quick!" he smiled as he pocketed about a third of the money on the table and swept half into a briefcase that he set to the side on the table. And then...
"Duuuude!" he shouted in excitement as he rushed to his feet (and barely avoiding knocking the money table over). He'd heard an unmistakable "splat" and Zek's smiled stretched about an inch wider than typically possible for humans. "Who guess that Senor Shakedown was gonna get creamed?!"
And then...
"Nooooo! Don't stop now!" Zek wailed as the newcomer stopped choking out the previously-declared champion. "Take him down!"
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 18, 2024 11:42:21 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,383
4
May 7, 2024 17:06:11 GMT -6
“Well now…that’s just mean.” Tarin said, pursing his lips as the smaller man showed impressive multitasking skills as he spilt bills, took more bets, and somehow managed to pocket a decent amount of money at the same time. More impressive was the fact that this guy had managed to get all of this set up in time to catch a random…
Tarin had to laugh, ”This wasn’t just a random fight…was it?” he said, shaking his head. ”I bet if there was a camera there’d be more to the story…but I also bet that if there was a camera, this fight would have never happened.”
This wasn’t exactly what Tarin had envisioned when he’d made his way into the park, but the commotion was making it easier to block out the spirits who had gathered around him.
The fight was still going on…kind of…and the Medium looked up again as the first man to have been hit let out a wheezing yell as the jogger put the other man in a choke-hold. The little guy called out as the jogger’s grip slackened a bit. Simply because the other man had said stop?
Not being one to draw unnecessary attention to himself, Tarin usually would have continued to watch the fight unfold and fade quietly into the background. That stupid little adage reared its head again though and Tarin found himself sighing as he shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on the gambling table. ”Watch this…” he said, letting his eyes cloud over white just enough to be really creepy, ”And if you disappear with it, I absolutely have ways of finding you. Even if you think I can’t.”
So. Into the frey went Tarin Brooks, placing himself between the shouting man, the jogger, and the one who was previously being choked but seemed to be regaining his composure.
”I think that’s enough…” he said, hands held up in a defensive position.
It was like there was some kind of mental block. Ranger wanted to choke Billiam, but he couldn’t seem to convince his own arm to squeeze down to cut off circulation. This allowed Billiam to cough before gulping down some air.
While Ranger was fighting with his own arm, he saw a man step between him and the voice ripple man. Voice ripple man looked at the newcomer and said, “Why do you guys have to get in the middle of this. We were fine.” The newcomer held up his fists in challenge.
Ranger finally decided to stop trying to choke someone he clearly was unable to choke and released Billiam before shoving him off. ”Jus’ walk away friend. Leave y’ buddy alone an’ walk away.”
The man on the ground coughed then said, “Terry. You lied about having ice cream, but right now we need to teach people they shouldn’t get in our business. Banana-dram-a doesn’t suffer insults.” Billiam said the word like it was a play on the band Bananarama.
Terry looked at the newcomer and demanded, “Stay there!” a ripple rolled out from him as he spoke, it slowly propagated out toward the newcomer. Terry didn’t have good control of his power. He could use it on command, but the effect was often variable.
At the same time Ranger and Billiam were climbing to their feet. Billiam locked eyes with Ranger and said, “Why are you getting involved? You loved our last show.”
At Billiam’s words, Ranger’s pupils dilated and he could vividly remember being at a music venue. A trio took the stage, an all drag Bananarama tribute band called ‘Bananadrama’. Ranger then closed his eyes and shook his head.
”The hell… I didn’, why would…” Ranger’s mind tried to reconcile the memory into what it thought it knew. This left an opening for Billiam to walk over and stab Ranger in the stomach. The blade coming back without any blood on it had Billiam’s eyes bugging out.
Zek winked at his critic as he slapped a rubber band around a stack of singles. "It's not mean, it's an investment!" he said swiftly. "Investing in retirement! Either an early one or a much later one! I'm just speeding things along! Now speaking of speeding things along..." Zek waved a free hand in a shooing motion. "You're impeding my customers."
He also wasn't happy with how the guy was blatantly pointing out every element of Zek's scheme, but fortunately most people were focused on the fighting or lack thereof.
But then Mr. Better-than-thou's eyes clouded over white and Zek's eyes grew. A delighted smile slashed his face as the implicit threat met his ears. This smelled like drama. "Challenge accepted!" Zek said gleefully, his own eyes changing colors until only pure white light glowed out from every part of them. Normal people were fun and all but mutants and mystics were next-level entertainment!
And speaking of entertainment, Mr. White Eyes was joining the scuffle! Zek swore briefly because his interaction with the critic had made him miss part of the exchange but the rest of it had him on the edge of his stolen seat.
Buzzkill got stabbed!
And nada.
"What the heck?" Zek cried as the crowd various gasped or shouted in surprise. Zek had a good angle to see the blade. "No blood? Where's the blood? This is fake! We want blood! We want blood! We want blood!" His voice dipped into the classic tones gear to get people to join in the chant.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 18, 2024 16:04:47 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,383
4
May 7, 2024 17:06:11 GMT -6
“Challenge accepted”
Seriously. Tarin just sighed. Some people didn’t learn until they had to learn the hard way.
Tarin was ready to fight though, he knew a thing or two about a thing or two and if the needed to get his hands dirty well then…
“Stop there!”
He was going to stop right there and not take another step forward.
Wait…what?
Tarin experimentally moved forward, he could do it, but it was like he was dragging a bus behind him to move in the direction of the man who had shouted. Huh. So this wasn’t a fair fight.
That was fine, Tarin decided, if powers were on the table and nobody on this side of the rift really cared if they were used.
Tarin let out a whistle, kind of like the whistle you’d let out if you were calling a beloved pet to your side for some snuggles. Instead, a dead guy appeared at his side. Eyes once again going solid white, Tarin said down the bond that he’d formed with the spirit and steadily fed energy into, Grab that guy and hold him down. Cover his mouth, but don’t hurt him…much
The spirit hesitated, What’s in it for me.
Tarin sighed, why did everyone have to be such a pain in the ass today?
45 minutes.
Done.
Off the spirit went to do its job, solid but somewhat fuzzy around the edges and just not right. The guy hadn’t told Tarin he couldn’t approach the other guy and the jogger, so Tarin turned right as the jogger took a knife to the gut.
”Holy shit man…who brings a knife to a fist fight?!”
Only, the crowd was getting angry that there was no blood on the knife…
The crowd…was angry…there was no blood. Suddenly the shop and the dead folks were looking a lot more attractive. Tarin’s eyes searched the crowd, locking on the little snot who was chanting right along with the rest of them. Hell, he’d probably started the chant.
A different whistle and another spirit was there. Stick to that one like glue. It’ll be worth your while. He said down the bond. The spirit knew Tarin was good to his word and took off, this time staying incorporeal and therefore invisible to everyone but the rarest sort of folks.
Still pouring energy into the bond with the fist sprit, Tarin whistled a final time. Get that knife, don’t do any permanent damage.
Three links wasn’t much at all. Tarin could do this all day, so there he stood, eyes white to the edges and crossed his arms…waiting for the show as the images of death for the three spirits flowed backwards into the bond.
The blade may not have broken through the skin, but Ranger still felt the force of it when it stretched skin as it tried to break through. It broke Ranger out of his discombobulation. Ranger looked down at where his shirt now had a hole, then to the blade, then to Billiam’s face.
Someone exclaimed about bringing a knife to a fist fight. Ranger looked to see it was the man who had involved himself earlier. And was he… whistling? And what was that?!
Some kind of—for lack of a better word—spirit was approaching Terry. Terry cried out, “Get away from-” before his mouth was covered by the spirit’s hand.
Then there was another spirit, it shot in and spooked the hell out of Billiam as it snatched at the knife. “Whoa, hey! Do not disturb! C’mon, let… go!” Billiam fought to hold onto the knife. Ranger took the chance to step closer and sweep Billiam’s legs out from under him. Then he looked at the spirit with the knife. There was always something new in the city. Usually not quite as unnerving.
The knife was released as Billiam fell back.after striking the ground he cried out, “Seriously you guys, even after you came to my birthday last week?” He said it staring at the spirit that had taken his knife, horror painted on his face.
Again Ranger’s eyes dilated as he could vividly remember being at Billiam’s birthday. It was at a club called ‘Soup de jure’. An odd establishment where everything was almost what you thought it was but the soup was always yours by right. An odd item to serve at a nightclub. Ranger had seen the guy who had jumped into the fight at the club. The two of them had sung ‘The Other Side’ from the Greatest Showman together at karaoke. Billiam had bought round after round of drinks then called Ranger a ride home.
It took Ranger a moment to collect himself again. He kicked Billiam. The memories were good. Convincing. Only problem was Ranger had experience trying to sift through memories from his time with Noel’s power to taste memories. ”I’d never tell y’ t’ keep orderin’ jagerbombs. Cut it out.”
“I leave for five minutes to get a pretzel and this is what you two get up to.” Another man had worked his way through the crowd and was looking disappointed at Billiam and Terry. Oddly enough, he seemed surprised by the presence of the ghosts but unperturbed. He turned to Zek and said, “Can I bet on myself to win?”
"Holy money sign pound symbol exclamation point ampersand! A ghost?!?" Zek yelled in the middle of his rabble-rousing. Now that did beat all! Well, kinda. The ghost was fuzzy and hard to make out. It was probably easy to miss. Or to fake. Like the knife "stab."
In fact the crowd didn't seem to be paying too much attention to the ghost or White Eyes. Buzzkill fought off...something...and then attacked one of the original contenders. Zek's eyes snapped to that. That seemed real. Whatever kind of play acting that seemed to be involved here with the knife and the "Ghost" and whatever tricks the crowd was supposed to be falling for...Zek's eyes narrowed. He thought he'd rigged this event. Was someone else rigging it too?
Then a man appeared with a pretzel. Zek's eyes lingered on the treat and he began to salivate, barely even noticing the words at first. Zek was starting to feel hungry. Not like his normal hunger. Hunger for more. A hunger for...
"Be the first to draw blood and get a double-money payout," Zek said as his solid-white eyes shifted to purely scarlet. The man's words were still ringing in his head and he himself started seeing red. Like he could already see the blood on everyone. And he wanted it.
"Then so be it!" the pretzel man declared, his voice ringing out over the crowd. And that's when something in the crowd, which had already been calling for blood, however much or little they meant it, boiled over. Perhaps those who weren't succumbing to mob mentality would ignore it or contain themselves, but would a few people really make a difference? IT was time to find out. "Let there be bloodshed!"
As the man's voice reached ears, so did a sudden hunger and desire to see people get hurt.
"Double payouts for anyone who draws blood!" Zek roared as he surged to his feet again, knocking over his table with the money. He already had a knife in either hand and started throwing them as the crowd surged and went wild.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 19, 2024 11:05:25 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,383
4
May 7, 2024 17:06:11 GMT -6
What had started as a minor scuffle between two friends had developed into a knife fight that Tarin had brilliantly inserted himself into the middle of, and now it was growing into a full fledged riot fueled by a nasty little slip of a man and a nondescript dude with a pretzel. There were obvious downsides to mutations worn loud and proud.
The good thing was that now that people were calling for blood, most of the cell phones had been put away. That meant that fewer people were about to see what was going to happen. Tarin sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger in anticipation of the headache he would absolutely have later. He wanted to let the spirits rip the pretzel man, the guy with the knife, the little snot whipping things up, and maybe anyone else throwing a punch to shreds. He knew better though.
”Okay guys…” he said, addressing the small crowd of spirits that had been tailing him all day. ”Do the thing. No permanent damage or you’re out for good.”
As he said it, a man approached at a run, a wild looking haymaker taking shape as he got within arms reach. Close enough to see the entirely white eyes of the man who stood in front of him. Too late the man tried to stop and he found his fist slamming into something just as solid as a human body, but with no give. The specter grinned its rictus grin and advanced.
All around the crowd spirits materialized, only the one attached to the little creep staying invisible. Everywhere they appeared, the spirits either grappled or restrained the rioters. Pretzel-man was top on the list and Tarin approached him, trying to steel himself against further suggestion, firming up his connection to the spirits and using it to ground himself.
”It’s never a good idea to bat out of your league.” he said, getting closer to the man, several of the spirits solidifying behind him. Tarin knew he couldn’t keep up this level of control for long, but hopefully it would be long enough, ”I’m going to give you a single chance to shut this down, take it or I’m going to give these guys what they’ve wanted since the second you opened your mouth.”
They wanted bloodshed. They could absolutely have it.
Posted by Ranger on Apr 19, 2024 13:57:54 GMT -6
Zek likes this
S.U.P.E.R.
S.U.P.E.R. Agent
Tan
Noel
1,648
381
May 9, 2024 10:55:39 GMT -6
Fuegogrande
No sooner did Ranger have Billiam curled up in the fetal position and covering his neck did all hell break loose. The crowd went from chanting about wanting blood to going after it. One voice crying out over the noise of the mass hysteria was one Ranger had heard. It was attached to the most absurd beacon of chaos Ranger had ever had the questionable fortune of working with.
The question had gone from, how to manage a crowd of people charging you to when will furniture start flying?
First though, a knife sailed past Ranger’s ear. Ranger made only the barest movement to avoid it as he held out his arm and took hold of the face of the first person to charge him. From there he forced them to the side, collapsing into another person who had been with him as he ran.
”Everybody needs t’ calm down!” Ranger yelled into the chaos that had erupted. An extra layer of chaos then materialized as spirits manifested and joined the fray. The spirits were grabbing people everywhere. Restraining them and taking the fight out of them. One man fell into Ranger’s fist when a spirit snatched his legs and he toppled over right into it.
So instead of fighting his way through the throng of people, Ranger could push his way through people. He gave the spirits as wide of a berth as he could not wanting to tempt fate and have them try to restrain him as well.
That left Ranger looking at the man who could move around walls in little balls of light, the spirit wrangler, and someone who seemed too calm. Probably the cause of the chaos. The spirit wrangler was approaching the man, a group of spirits manifesting as he spoke to him. Ranger turned to the chaos goblin just in time to duck another knife.
”Watch it! Y’ almost hit me with that.” Ranger growled and stepped close to the man. ”Graduated from glowy paintballs?” Ranger asked blading off towards the man. If he was influenced like the crowd was, it was about to be an chaotic mess.
Not everyone in the crowd had rushed in. A handful or two of people were like Zek, who tended to not prefer to get into the thick of things. A couple people started throwing rocks, two more were rolling around lock in a wrestling...snuggle? Oh, one had a pocketknife and they were both fighting for it.
Zek kept throwing knives but...they weren't bloody working! Not like they should! They kept missing or got knocked out of the air or hit with the hilt instead of the blade or couldn't draw blood from a ghost. He scowled as he threw the last knife he had in his trenchcoat but he didn't have any more time to consider his options because that faker Buzzkill was coming his way!
Zek didn't bother using his words. Words didn't break bones. The morningstar mace that he pulled out of a hastily made, hand-sized portal to his locker room armory in Zekworld could though. As the small portal vanish, Zek yelled a wordless sound of murderous lust and swung the mace toward Buzzkill's head like he was batting for a thousand.
As for the pretzel man? He stared down the white-eyed ghost-speaker with a look of such condescension. "Oh honey, you took the words right out of my mouth!" he said as his power began amplifying even more. His voice was raising as well. "You might as well run along, you and your little spirits friends, or you might be joining them."
The mob began howling and thrashing about, like unhinged berserkers as they ripped, bit, lunged, shoved, and contorted in their efforts to hurt themselves, those around them, even the ghosts.