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Apan Sudrosi

One expects those like myself to shepered the flock.

0 · 553 views · located in The Slumwalks

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by lil_kreen


Name: Apan "Shepherd" Sudrosi

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Appearance: Memory is a seditious thing that cleaves off details on whimsy alone. Apan's face is no less a traitor to minds when one looks away and it's ever so slightly changed. He's always been a male human, however, clad in yellow robes as tattered as the memories of his face scattered behind him. The robes have a sickly pattern of overlaid hyphae and while seeming damaged remain thick and strong. His olive sun-baked skin suffers no less beset by forked scars that move features between glances. He is often seen with a diaphanous mask attached to his hood which obscures face with material the same color as the off yellow robe.


Equipment: Apan carries a yellow-gold leather bound grimoire kept in a box locked with eldritch means. He does not discuss its origins merely stating it was 'a gift from someone unnamed'. He's been working on whittling a staff which he carries with him one of many produced during his studies of power.

Armor: Apan's vestments are a thick fibrous material worn entirely in one piece entered from a wrap under his cloak. Resistant to slicing, bludgeoning, and cold the material never seems to thin or be sliced open for very long save for fire's touch when he must mend it himself. What normal-sized pockets in the vestments there seem to be they are difficult to get into with any hands but his own and never bulge from their contents.

Powers: A cultist by nature he does not choose his powers so much as submit to them. His tattered touch must delivered through his hands, an organic weapon, or an organic projectile of some sort but not metals. His mutable appearance while the first power he gained is not one he yet controls. Since then his touch can suture wounds together as easily as it can rot organic things apart. Though the former follows with with great pain. Animals show an inherent fear of Apan or at least the thing that walks in the shadow of his dreams. Smaller animals are frequently unwilling to remain in his presence if and when he chooses to sleep.

Personality: It never entirely clear whose side Apan is on but however evasive he may be he never lies. A man of pragmatism his goals may be tightly held but dedicates himself truly to any with goals that align with his own. He's a friendly supplicant if distant but the piercing eyes of a zealot may push some away. He never seems to sleep except on purpose while meditating with his grimoire.

Skills/Strengths: Apan is a trained if new cultist and if allocated an isolated work space will tend to those skills to train himself. Even without one his abilities to defend an area from unwanted ethereal incursion are still quite good. With the furor of a cultist he can fight on through a great deal of mental of physical pain. This focus is paramount to his meditations for study. He has some basic hand-to-hand skills, staves, and is able use simple crossbows but has little interest in metal weaponry.

Weakness: Apan is not a friend to concentrated cold he loses a great deal of his tattered touch when extremely cold or frostbitten. He otherwise has an affinity for the finer things and can be a bit greedy at times.

So begins...

Apan Sudrosi's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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  1. Collaborative effort by Lil_kreen and Rulke using Google Docs

    by Rulke

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One trapped some days ago in a memory of years gone by

The throng of people pulsed warmly against the warm walls of the theater as they filed through ushers to their seats. Portraits of upcoming shows from gangly artists littered the walls. A season's sun aged them yellow like seared brands. Patrons hadn't fared much better as the olive-skinned Apan watched all the wrinkled meat pass by him pushed in by door workers. The dim memories of his dreams echoed in his mind an indistinct itch he couldn't scratch off. Nor clean the description of a play read by a director that he either couldn't remember or tried to forget. Patrons filing in through red cordons between each door leading into the house were eager learners. This play was a thing of excitement for them perhaps they'd find new excitement in theater for their pallid lives. There was a name for the play filming his tongue as the last effort of a sane soul twitches to warn instinct to run away. "It's far too late for jitters," he thought as sparks of wisdom were quelled, "the show must go on."

Heavy doors pounded shut with the hollow finality of metal bolts on tree flesh. Apan's voice rang out in excited chase, "Ladies and gentlemen, The King In Yellow is about to start. Please take your seats."

A woman tried to sneak past him through heavy doors but his quick glance corralled the woman with nothing but a warm smile. Her large dishplate eyes looked up at Apan's hand softly cradling her head. Apan thought she was pretty but a niggling impulse remained that she looks tasty. A gleeful voice said with a cold undertone Apan wasn’t sure was his, “It’ll be all over soon. Get back to your seat. It won’t even hurt.”

There was the bigger deal of all this where rehearsals met snags or problems throughout but Apan noted how well it all had went, if not too well, that this day was not delayed at all. As if in spite of how well the production went their Director chose to have practices in a way where no one but he knew the full play. This was unusual and very disturbing. Apan voiced his concerns as worries mounted but the Director waved away concerns as pointless. This show would be remembered for years to come he assured. Paroxysm of repressed joy with each look from his Director’s eyes during rehearsals, could they have been called deranged? Apan knew the Director, once considered a friend, this script discovered him to pull his mind into seclusion. As if writing on walls to no-one speaking how this would be his greatest show none could never repress his memory. A curious choice of words but dismissed by the rest of his eccentricities. Apan even once considered tearing the manuscript up as wild eyes mounted, but his friend the Director a creative mentor, threatened with lethal inflection to never speak of this again.

So rehearsal went on without issue the content of this strange play yet beyond bewildering. Its bearing carried as utterly without rhyme nor reason. Set in a place called Carcosa its songs foreign in tongue, at least they assumed so, that it seemed incomprehensible to humans. Yet somehow the tongue found theirs as songs were sung by souls with doubts they they should. How so they wept inwardly they had felt compelled.

Was someone controlling the proceedings?

One somber night after Apan was up late after inflictions of bewildering rehearsal but was about to leave when he happened to see the Director’s office light on. Tired if quiet leaden steps slowly approached ready to turn it off only to hear a half hushed conversation at the fringe of partly hidden light, “My King, the show will be on soon and people will hear your million names with million ways to say them before hearing your last true name.” In fear Apan hurried away burning the lead out with hot adrenaline from his exhausted soul along with the will to ever speak of it. That striking person to which the Director spoke garbed in a horrible ragged yellow robes… a yellow so sickly even witnessing forced bile upwards through Apan’s throat from the depths of his fearful soul.

Apan rubbed his temples. It was a day of celebration he should focus less on this and instead on their collective labor to birth art. Soon they began and no doubt after the show things would be better? Right?

Finally lights did dim as applause showed the Director to the stage his thin arms high. Even in flattering still light signs, alarming ones, raised in the recesses of his memory of the Director. His creative mentor was gaunt, eyes sunken, near to being more skeletal than human.

Yet he spoke with supple voice with majesty beyond measure, “My friends, my fellow creative types, I Nigel Rasanen, welcome you to a show like no other you’ve had shake the depths of your soul. We gathered the best talents for this creation like nothing you have seen nor shall comprehend. Never such a grandiose spectacle seen again than what I shall inflict on you tonight. I promise never living to witness greatness such as this. Bear your soul for me against this play to live many times to know pillars and spires supporting great intellectual dimensions we can scarcely imagine!”

The very suggestions by his mentor troubled him, Apan tried to tell himself he was imagining as his eyes swore that behind his friend was the yellow robe. A sickly yellow tether holding him upright as if a puppet. Blinking, it vanished from him, but he could not remove this doubt not in the least. Somewhere in his mind a hidden understanding of terror wanted him to scream but found itself smothered under waters so very cold. His throat closed with doubts quelled.

Nonetheless the curtains opened after he left the stage so lights could quell to let the show begin.

Witnessing the strangeness of honed story was both mesmerizing and horrifying as even though he had seen this scene it thrums across his mind more alive, more real. It felt like it was history made not fiction. Such a strange feeling, such a strange emotion… Yet the actors were performing impeccably speaking lines with such practiced abandon. Resonating powerful voices from which erupted one strange story being told…

Then it happened, the lights flickered off.



On, to Apan’s previsioned eyes that saw grotesque display whole of the Theatre now become a living breathing creature. Digested acid at his feet backed by the horrible aberration of muscles moving in and out, everything there so very alive, it was almost like the Theatre was a huge unnamable monster with many eyes staring while the juices rose around them.


On, then it was gone, the Theatre was once more majestic leaving Apan with deep questions of if had imagined it?


Before as safety flickered away actors stopped in silent dark but to continue in the light all actors handling the resumption with gusto, not once hesitating, despite worried annoyance from the crowd.

Next came a turbid coldness that Apan was so shocked pressing on his legs he turned around expecting a door to be opened. All he saw were doors tightly secured with that unerring sense he was being watched. The cold itself unnatural, horribly icy, biting, a chill like something of a grave slithering up one’s pant leg from the floor… Strange horrors spoke from seclusion there into his mind. The cold, Apan looked to the actors to reassure himself, yet the show continued… It was here he wondered if he should leave. Never before had such unholy or eldritch terror so shook his very soul.

Just as he was well considering abandoning this place came the actress by name of Erin Welsh-carroll; a major up and comer in the creative circles. Gifted soprano of distinction with an almost heavenly appearance sought after by many that desired so much less of her worth. Her dress itself a Cerulean blue with a pearlescent shift that hinted at some impossible depth like a pure night sky. The upper translucent layers light like drifting clouds roiled around her as she began to sing, and it started out well enough.

Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink beneath the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.

Part way through her voice issues unforgiving echoes to reverberate Apan’s skull. That moment he truly feared his conscious would completely shatter. Even more horrifying were others holding their ears concreting his fears raised higher with her pitch to unnatural heights from words in that incomprehensible tongue. Each piece swung the pick harder at his mind the more the song was sang. Horrifyingly enough Apan’s pain struck understanding of it all yet though he had never once heard this language. He knew of Carcosa, he knew of what she sang. So very much she sang. Her face paled as much as her eyes grow red before at once dripping blood down from them. Mascara mixing with crimson to show an utterly terrifying visage ready to tear through.

Still she sang, her skin growing even more pale, her voice speaking in a tongue that seemed not possible our bodies to even speak.

Pinned by horror Apan clung to his ears to shut the noise out but could shut away the purely dreadful sight of white alabaster skin melting in rivers of pain down her face to congeal like wax on her shoulder. Yet the voice rang out unsullied while the very crowd stare in horror clutching at their ears to not be deafened but finding themselves caught in between.

White of her face continued melted away revealing a marred crimson muscled face, unrecognizable from the beauty she once wore, that instead now built up on her shoulders. Clumps that melt off reveal her twitching red muscled visage all the while she continuing to sing.

In terror one soul mustered a weapon to uncover their ears just briefly. The shot rang out in combat to the noise but seconds after a horrible spurt of retaliation Apan saw the man’s head completely gone. Now stood a macabre display of blood and gore as if the noise struck back with similar rage. Just a moment longer than it ought to stand before the ruined body collapsed in a shower of more screaming now not just pain but abject fear.

The shot meanwhile did nothing, she still sang, despite the bullet that pierced her heart through and through. Yet continued the soft voice even as eyes streamed blood then tumbled out with sickening sputter of life. Even still stood the singer with holes of eyes that still bleed and still sang.

At this point terror desperately tried to engage the subconscious mind to enable frozen prey to try move while still covering their ears. Some failed leading to a sardonic display of pitiless fireworks alongside those who rushed towards the door trying to bang with their elbows. They could not use their hands to escape but to suffer the song. Battering, aggressively beating with legs, elbows, and bodies, it was so chaotic. Some poor souls fell underfoot and were crushed by the drowning. Fear so blinds everyone that very few noticed blood on their boots alongsinde brain matter and gore nor how their clothes were bloodied.

Further to add to this, while she sang, it began to rain.

A red mist, erupting from the sprinklers, raining down aggressively.

Apan knew to keep mouth shut as not to swallow, the knowledge was too at the fringe of his understanding to put together, but he knew what he must do.

Those who did not found themselves uncovering their ears instead to cover them in rage at once attacking their fellow man, their eyes just as red as the singer’s sockets, bleeding the same blood. Hands ripped into people tearing flesh away from their straining eyes..

Chaos since nigh with some people attacking the others while trying to maim them on worse. An unfortunate display the raging now that saw prey dragged the hearing fearful kicking and screaming away from those people too afraid to uncover their ears. Screams of the forsaken drag the Theatre crossroad thrown on a pile of collected charnel then it began, the thing that finally broke Apan and made him sing.

They flew at smothered captives like beasts starting a frenzy greedily tear flesh and innards away in a gluttonous feath feast. Apan knew both some of the victims and some of the monsters he could not believe what he was seeing. All acted without remorse. Sinew split with snaps of jaws ripping and slobbering all over the fleshy crimson pile of bodies. Limbs and bodies torn asunder the smell of iron lies thick in the cold cloying air as the blood pooled into the bodies drowning those buried deep enough to be spared the indignity of being rent apart by the monsters once people. The pile choked, sobbed, cracked, even as the strongest still screamed.

Finally, the song did end.

She bowed with the falling shards of Apan’s broken mind a witness to the show that ever went on, like nothing had happened, just going onwards… His psyche breaking down into million razor pieces completely irreplaceable and impossible to repair.

The song became melodic, it became beautiful. Yet no one was singing, yet he could still hear it and he declared uncovering his ears, “HAIL CARCOSA, OH GREAT CARCOSA OF LENG!”

He watched in glee as the fires erupted, and he watched as the Acolytes who tore the bodies asunder writhed naked between grotesque and ecstasy. He watched as they ripped out their own eyes to further see the majesty he now knew. Still he watched as they rushed like bloodthirsty hounds at each other as wallpaper peeled down revealing the fleshy prison they fought to be free of. It was breathtaking. Oh how he watched as people were brutally murdered in the truly most revolting ways nothing taboo and twisted denied them.

The song, still sang, and Apan, heard what he must do, he casually went backstage to do the final act for one must survive and the million names he knew begged him to finish with this.

He went into the office to pick up a knife he had never known was his to stab with, slash, and gore with hateful duty through the pretenders flesh. The man he once respected wallowed in weak bloody filth he chuckled. He laughed, he guffawed without hint of amusement more like derangement to finally turn away having served his new Master. Blood dripped upward the blade tracing foul language on scoured pitted metal. Apan looked at it once giggling at the fell words and patterns the rivulets traced on his skin as the Director’s lifeblood sweetly caressed his flesh.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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Not expecting to be followed so suddenly -and, let’s be honest, quite brazenly- by his better half, of all people, the mechanic already had the Luger leveled at the door the moment Ruby kicked it down. The pistol vanished from his left hand into the opposite holster in the next half moment, followed by a sheepish look almost as quickly. Maybe just smooth enough that she missed it amid her grand entrance…

The younger Falcon would have been irritated, even furious at Ruby for stubbornly following him into [possible] certain death. Now, not really all that much older (or wiser, heh), all he felt was honoured that such a transcendent woman would choose to perish beside him. There weren’t many others he’d face the Grim Reaper with, and most of them just so happened to be right here. In this partially burned, long empty theatre…

Despite being quite used to it by now, Kevyn still jumped somewhat from Ruby’s playful swat. For the most part, though, he took it rather stoically, given the serious conversation. Judging by what was said, and not said, it seemed like he was expected to take reign of the Gae Ceann. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting it. Hadn’t been more or less groomed for it until the gang’s forced exodus. But he never expected the immortal Dullahan to vacate the title of Boss, ever, either.

“Pleasant seein’ yeh here, too, m’dear Gunny Mare,” Falcon said quietly as the gunsmith joined his side. Then, after Noel and Renny said their piece, he took a deep breath and began.

“I’m not gonna bullshit yeh, this isna gonna be easy. Us rebuildin’ Gae Ceann. But it is possible. We wi-”

The rest of his words were interrupted as a shot rang out from the entrance, body instinctively turning toward the sound. The bullet that might have hit him in the gut now left a bloody furrow along his right forearm. In the next instant, he shoved Ruby directly toward the others with the same arm as he got off a shot from the Luger with his left. The interloper dropped to his knees, a dark hole where one of his eyes used to be visible a few moments before the body decided it was dead and flopped facedown.

Several bullets were returned where he had been standing, but the mechanic had the presence of mind to keep moving after firing and was thus safely behind the seats.

“We’re claiming the bounty on all y’all!” A voice shouted from just outside the door, as the sounds of at least half a dozen assailants assembling there echoed into the theatre. “Pay’s the same live or dead, so we ain’t playin’ nice!”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an audience, friends. Shall we set the stage fer ‘em?” Falcon chuckled, then took on an imperative tone that brooked no argument: “I’ll keep ‘em from floodin’ the place whilst yeh three book fer the stage an’ beyond. I shall be right behind yeh, when the mo’ iss right… Now go!”

At that, he unloaded the entire clip at the entrance, following up with another barrage from a second Luger that appeared in his right hand -trusting that his order was being carried out behind him. Not really hitting anything in particular, the sixteen (or so) forty-five calibre hollow point rounds still proved more than enough to quell the imminent surge of attackers. A few lucky bullets caught an arm or a leg here or there of course, but Kevyn didn’t keep his head up long enough to watch.

Instead, dropping the mags to the floor, he was distracted from finishing the reload. Blood trickling slowly from his arm, it was eagerly swallowed up into the aged carpet. That fresh metallic tang in the air suddenly mixed with a scent of old blood and decay. It might have been tunnel-vision from the battle, but it seemed to Falcon that the Solstice drastically became darker. And a sense, a beckoning, toward center stage permeated all within...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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"Bugger off..." Ruby said as the bullets started to fly out from the door. While he was speaking, she was hanging on him with a big smile on her face then paled when he shot shot and she was pushed down to the ground with a heavy thud. This was not according to plan and Ruby felt rather infuriated that someone had the gaul to shoot her man in the arm. How dare they shoot her man! Ruby certainly wouldnt stand for that and took a pull on her cigarette which was still in her mouth as she advanced for the door, sidestepping the bullets as they went by her head.

"Go on luve. Get yer bleedin' arm looked at. Ah got this" She said with a wink and walked towards the doors, her gun gauntlets activating with a snap of her wrists, the golden metal sliding and transforming into the fearsome weapons of the old days. She snapped her arms down to cock the weapons which were two shotgun barrels mounted into the weapons itself and proceeded to the door. With enough force to kick a car down the street, she flung one of the doors outwards towards the enemies and looked them all over, eyes glowing red.

"One of ye shot mah man...and ah wont be havin' that" She said and aimed a punch at one of the offenders, throwing an explosive round straight into the man's chest cavity which exploded in a shower of blood, gore and chunks as she charged towards them with shotgun blasts firing, explosions going and probably a great deal of screaming along with the sounds of-


Inside, all they could hear from within, was the sound of War, Death and Apocolypse.

No one messes with Gunny's Mare's stallion.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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#, as written by Marcus
For Fuck Sakes!

Noel ducked behinds a few of the old theatre seats knowing full well that it was not the kind of cover he wanted or needed. Some lame asses decided that they would make an easy payday and opened fire on the remnant of what remained of the former gang.

'Those fuckers are shooting at us....At Me.'

Noel began to grimace as his thoughts raced and searched for the nearest exits and towards the stage that he was ordered to retreat back towards. It was only a split second decision but Noel suddenly began to smile as Ruby made one of those fucks into beef stroganoff in what could only be called a fiery explosion of artful intent!

'I've got to up my game.' Noel began to laugh like a mad marauder as he called upon what made him special. Paper seemed to flow from his sleeves only to take jump to life and enshroud Falcon and Ruby. Their newfound armor would be as light as paper as it moved effortlessly with their form but with the density of steel.

Noel however did not flee but instead made his way past some of the seats and took up several discarded flyers for the last show this place had preformed and forced the newfound paper into a wall which began to form next to him. He wanted more cover and needed a moment to control to field a bit more.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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#, as written by Rulke





Renny, Renny Higgin's had once died, but this was different, this was like no matter how she let out her yell, it never silenced the discordant sardonic tones, raping her very ear-drums, she no longer cared to hold back, instead her woeful scream echoing loudly in the building, at such high frequencies the ruins were shuddering.

Yet the music, would not cease its parade on her mind...



Yet she still let it loose hoping that music, would cease and finally her mind could rest. Yet it challenged and forced her to raise pitch to such dangerous levels.

Those around her, would see how scared the confident cocky banshee was, there was an unreal horror registered in her gaze, why could no one else hear it?






Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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What had begun as a clear, somewhat cool day, suddenly became dark and frigid. Thunderheads gathered directly above the Solstice Theatre, a peal of thunder rivaling that of the Banshee’s screams echoing inside every skull. Despite being winter time in Wing City, this… this did not feel like a natural storm. Those clouds gathering threatened more than mere snow, that was for sure. Even those ignorant of weather patterns should be able to sense it.

At least, that’s how Falcon felt as he chased after Ruby into the maelstrom that was coming. And into a maelstrom of death and blood he found himself. Nobody crossed his Gunney Mare and lived to tell the tale, that was for sure. He wasn’t even surprised that she brazenly ignored his commands, but it still irked him somewhat. And now he had to somehow coerce her into returning to the theatre. He caught up to her just as she was disemboweling a bounty hunter calling for back-up on his phone.

“Gunney Mare, me darlin’,” he murmured in her ear, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the remnants of what was once human. “We’d best rejoin our friends inside afore this storm hits us proper!”

It was only then that he noticed the paper armour ensconcing his body, effectively sealing the wound upon his forearm. Well, no more of his blood shall be spilled upon this ancient travesty, but, by the sound of things, it was already too late. Renny was suffering already, though the song she heard was but a whisper in the mechanic’s ears so far. Luckily, he had a solution for that. At least he hoped so.

Nudging Ruby gently yet still quite forcefully toward the entrance and back inside, Kevyn made a beeline for Macha, his bike. A moment’s rifling through the saddlebags found him what he was looking for: a decently-sized knapsack and a toolkit any mechanic worth their salt carried at all times. He then pressed a button amidst Macha’s gauges and the bike began humming quietly, a similar sound emanating from Ruby’s bike. Stashing the kit in the knapsack, he then dashed to the door Ruby had kicked. After shrugging off more bullets than most could count (twenty-three, to be precise), Falcon only wasted three of his upon reaching the door now being used as cover.

A streak of lightning cast an eerie pallor upon the scene, followed almost instantaneously by another earth-shaking peal of thunder. Not one to be blinded by piercing light, Kevyn already had the door and was sprinting inside the theatre. Another moment found the door roughly in its original place, shutting out the elements that raged outside. It wasn’t exactly quiet within the Solstice, as a ghostly orchestra had kicked up around the same time blood had began spilling in the theatre, but now it kicked in with gusto. He could already feel something like madness crawling within his skull.

Instead, he focused on his immediate goal, staving that off for now. A set of noise-canceling headphones appeared from the knapsack, a screwdriver in the other hand. Just adjust the frequency inhibitor just so, and there! That should work… Hopefully. A few quick presses on his phone brought up a soundbyte of one of Renny’s own screams, one he felt had to do with healing and whatnot, piped directly through the headphones. Somehow he managed to tackle the Banshee in her throes and slap those headphones into place. These headphones were not merely a mundane thing, for the mechanic had worked his magic on them. They bridged the gap between the mechanical and the supernatural.

Not even given enough time to ascertain whether or not it worked, the music crescendoed and picked up again. Something dark was rising on center stage. Something vaguely human and female. A red red face spouting the song that by now should be heard by all. It was the singer from the play all those years ago, now returned to their present as a Siren… Dark, vaguely human shapes appeared at the periphery of the theatre, some dropping from the balconies above just to stand again on broken legs. For now, they seemed to wait.

As the chorus kicked up again, Falcon found himself drawn uncontrollably toward that terrible being upon stage. The twin Lugers appeared in his hands and in a full-on Irish brogue, he cried, “HAIL CARCOSA! FAIR CARCOSA!”

That was when the guns in his hands trained on his friends...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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Outside was a bloodbath, smears of blood and entrails stained the ground and street from the bikers whom had been previously shooting towards the door. Ruby was in a full on rage. Her body was grazed several times by bullets with several confirmed hits yet the blood coming from them didnt seem to stem the flow of her sheer rage. The human whom she had disembowled begged for the last few moments of his life before she felt an arm on hers and snarled at Kev, the anger in her mind subsiding. She didnt have much brain power when left enraged so she followed along. There werent going to be any sort of reprisal from the gang just yet. SO now they had to deal with other issues.

With Renny's screams silenced, she took a moment to breath. The paper armor did it's work yet the wounds still took their toll on her body. That anger could give out and leave her completely exhausted. Yet her second wind would sooner come rather then later. As Falcon took the stage and trained his Lugers on his friends and her, Ruby's eyes flashed a deep crimson as her hair flickered as if in flames and a battle yell erupted from her throat. All sense of restraint was removed as her eyes were clearly set on the siren and the undead upon the stage.

With a furious charge, she made herself look like the biggest threat in the room by bolting at top speed towards the stage, not even stopping to reload her gauntlets. She had to get to the stage. She had to stop Falcon. She had to keep him from killing everyone else. As long as she was the biggest target, the other two would remain safe.


She yelled as she fired two rounds from her gauntlets at the siren as she ran for the stage. Her running speed had slowed since she was running on barely any sort of energy left. Most of what she gave was outside and the stains upon the ground outside. If she could get to Falcon, she would bring him down and tear down this Theater and the Siren bitch with it in a single punch.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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#, as written by Marcus

The paper wizard shouted as he swiped his hands across the air before him only to cringe and sweat as his concentration began to strain. Pamphlets of the old theater sprang to life as what had once been used for defense suddenly flew forward at the newfound threat like sharp knives. However, instead of sticking into their targets like hot cutlery through butter, the papers would find their physical marks and simply stick and find a newfound weight which would drag down any man in their prime.

It would be like gravity itself would force those onto their knees if able and hold them in place. Noel wanted to immobilize, not kill, and this was the best option he had. he was unsure if paper master would affect Renny but could only hope Falcon would be slow enough to get himself captured and then beaten to a deep slumber.

For all intents and purposes Bishop was left wide open in his attempt to diffuse the situation.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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#, as written by Rulke
The music ceased and she could no longer hear the melodic discordant. It had faded to nothing, allowing Renny to catch her breath, groaning in anguish. Standing up, she grimaced with utter agony before collecting her thoughts. Although the sound was blocked out. The chaos while noiseless was evident, immediately she unshouldered her shotgun, pumping dud round, she let loose two blasts. The gang members who had been slaughtered were being brought back, shambling upwards in an awkwardly disjointed fashion with the soundless cracking of joints.


Pumping the gun again she fired five more rounds blowing up the faces. Having not yet registered the big threat, being deaf in a fight was inadvisable. It was only her instincts keeping the horde from engulfing her.


More brain matter.

Yet they just got up again.

It was in her hurried pace, she finally saw that Kev had succumbed to the song that had been trying to dig into her mind. Only her supernatural immunities had made it possible for her to remain sane.


She had roughly twelve more rounds, and things were looking bleak. Not to mention the more blood that spilt the worse things got.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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There was nothing even remotely conscious going on inside the mechanic’s skull other than the music. That damned music. It invaded his very essence, that’s what it felt like; chasing him into the darkest corners of his mind. A simple directive controlled his actions: Kill anything trying to kill you, or the Siren.

And there was something else, too… Something alien and quite sinister attacked his mind, taking control of a goodly portion with that first agonizing spike. It should have been over -would have been- then and there, for Falcon, and all too likely the others. That savage… primordial… presence blotted out all else but the Siren’s song.

Nothingness. Emptiness. Fear, utter paralyzing fear. An inferno of rage, bitter animosity for life in general. All of it feeding on all the emotions of humanity that had felt them here. In the tragic past to the [somewhat] less tragic present. It was drawing power even now from their emotions, albeit only the strongest ones being felt. If at all.

Who the hell knew what any of it was? Who cared?

Something about earplugs, they’d stop the music… But why did he want to do that, when the music was so nice?

”Oi! Back the truck up! There’s somethin’ more here…” Falcon exclaimed. Or tried to, the words only echoed in his skull and never reached his lips.

The boards beneath his boots gave way somewhat as the paper armour weighed on him. As his body turned toward the most apparent threat, Ruby, the stage gave out completely when he planted his left foot forward. The end result had his left leg get sucked into the hole up to his knee, trapping him awkwardly (and quite painfully, had he been in control).

Already brought up to bear, the twin Lugers barked fire and metal not quite in unison. Purely muscle memory, alternating the pull of the triggers to maximise spread. Three pulls on the right found the lever arm jammed, though the finger kept pulling. The sixth or seventh bullet in the left Luger must have been overcharged, seeing as how the damned pistol basically exploded in his hand. Shrapnel left two bloody rips on his face, one above and one below the eye.

The jammed pistol was rather effectively thrown at the rapidly charging crazy female along with a feral growl. Then he grabbed at the knife in his belt, first with his mostly useless left hand, then successfully with his right. The roughly foot and a half blade flashed menacingly in the dancing light of a lightning strike, as the hilt came down to bash at the stage holding his leg.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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Ruby bolted as fast as her legs could take her down the aisle, her entire vision being encompassed by a seething red glow. Her hair danced upon the wind as if were a living fire and eyes glowed red with ferocity that was not unlike a beast. She watched him raise up the Lugers and quickly pulled up her gauntlet-ted arms to cover her face and neck. Each round counted down from firing as she waited and ran.




There was a rush of air as she felt something go in and out of her stomach yet she would keep on running. She wouldnt stop running. She couldnt stop running...her muscles tightened with the force of the bullets impact.





Two more rushes slammed home into her chest. The air began to be heavier and harder to get, no matter how hard she gulped for it. A cacophonous cough erupted from her throat as red now stained her gauntlet-ted arms. Yet she would not stop...she was dead heading it.




Three more rounds impacted in her chest once again, tearing apart flesh and smashing against bone. Blood poured through the paper armor that had absorbed some of the bullet's damage yet still was not enough to keep them from entering. Ruby could taste, breath and smell copper yet there was no pause in her stride. No end of ther ferocity within her soul that yearned to tear her lover down and put him into unconsciousness. She would...

Her muscles were now tighter then a snare drum and then some, her body turning much paler and leaner with each impact the glow from her hair burned even brighter then the last. All of her fire was being pushed through her, all of that rage buried deep down and away. She leapt up, causing the ground underneath her feet to splinter and crack as she vaulted high into the air.

Those golden gauntlets around her arms suddenly snapped away back into her bracelets and a fist barreled towards Kev. The knife would be a paper cut compared to the damage she had suffered from his bullets. She let out another furious war cry, summing all of her tenacity and hatred and landed infront of him, aiming her punch straight for his stomach...and connected.

She had nailed him in the stomach from a downward angle as she connected. Imagine the feeling of being hit by a slow moving train, the raw force of the punch would do far worse to Kev's insides. Most of his ribs would have been broken, flying into his lungs and stomach. There would be massive internal bleeding...but this was in slow mo.

The force of this punch would cause ripples in the stage, shattering several dozen planks of wood in the process and would send Kev flying back at least twenty feet and clear across to the rear of the stage and through whatever wall was there, if there was one. This was a knockout, or so Ruby hoped as she reactivated her gauntlets and sent one final punch down below to the stage, creating an even worse earthquake through the theatre as an explosive round shot down under the stage.

All of the energy was spent, Ruby's eyes fluttered as she fell down to a knee as a fire soon began to rage underneath the theatre and more coughing erupted from the clearly mortally injured Ruby weakly stood up "Ill get him..." Ruby mumbled as she tried to stand up on weak knees and strode towards Kev's unconscious body and tried to pull him up "Help...." She said as she collapsed next to him, unconscious from blood loss.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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#, as written by Marcus
Noel held his ground and watched the events before him. His control over his abilities began to wane from exhaustion both mental and physical. Cook needed to simply get some sleep and this floor looked just as good as any. The paper wizard simply collapsed like his compatriots whilst thinking about the blood and the sheer amount of coke he was going to enjoy once he awoke from this nightmare.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Noel Harrison Character Portrait: Kevyn Shikoba Conway Character Portrait: Ruby Geniva Character Portrait: Apan Sudrosi
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#, as written by Rulke
There was a common idea it was that of self-preservation and Renny knew it well. In fact, little too well, she could see when a situation appeared untenable and no matter how much she blasts back the hordes they kept coming back up with mangled or mutilated bodies more so than before. Shotguns tended to do that. With this reasoning, she opted for the option of surviving, because though zombies or whatever they were worried little usually. Anyone with a moron level IQ could see that these were not the usual crop and the eldritch energy ringing off them indicated with their chaotic messed up aura. Look Renny, was not a good person spirit or otherwise, she was selfish and seeing this illustration made her opt for the option of not being mauled by eldritch abominations.

With the last slug fired, she growled in frustration before releasing a pulse that affects all mindless undead. Before vanishing in a high-pitched scream. The undead who had been hit found confusion hit their already addled minds and in seconds the hordes were attacking one another.

Okay, she had not left everyone to die, completely.

Maybe she did care.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Austin Marshal Character Portrait: General Esdeath Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Koharu Suzuki Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Nespral
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Warren Aulare was wandering aimlessly about when suddenly he smiled at the sky. For a moment he stood there and stared up into Terran Orbit. A satisfied nod and he turned on his heel with new direction. He thumbed at the die in his pocket as he made his way in to the city.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Austin Marshal Character Portrait: General Esdeath Character Portrait: Hastur Character Portrait: Koharu Suzuki Character Portrait: Renny ("Silent Scream") Higgins Character Portrait: Nespral
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K'gara sniffs the air curiously and looks around observantly, her tail wagging a bit