Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.
When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.
Once per thread, if three or more people invoke it, a single roll may be re-rolled.
You are Alex. A newly minted trainer and camping enthusiast just starting out on your journey at the age of seventeen after your father lost his job in order to help pay the bills. On the road, you met Fie, the Fire Gym Leader, Gareth a novice Aura Guardian on pilgrimage and Holly, a runaway heiress using a pseudonym. You've also made enemies of Team Green a group of violent, radical activists looking to abolish pokemon training.
For the time being, Fie returned to her gym for the time being.
Last thread, you beat Daniel, the Greenshoot Gym Leader, evolved Coolie into a Hydrapple, trained a whole lot, prepared to head out in the morning, had some friendly battles with Sarah and Tom which you lost and groomed your team...
This is part 8 of the "side quest" for "Disappearing Hogwarts". An unofficial alternate timeline based on HeadQM´s highly praised quest, Disappearing Hogwarts. Reading the original story is not exactly necessary but heavily encouraged since this quest will contain references to it. Created mostly as a place to wait while HeadQM was away for a while but slowly evolved into his own thing.
Quick recap so far: >Recently graduated Ravenclaw student is hired at Hogwarts as the new Caretaker. >Merlin somehow ended up inside your head. >Harry Potter´s daughter died, letting Salazar Slythering (previously stuck inside her head) free to continue his quest to control The Beast, an all powerful ancient creature accidentally created by Merlin. >He is currently now trapped inside a poor and weakened girl named Artemis. >You obtained a piece of The Beast >The Beast is now trying to escape under any circumstance >Because of it, magic is now gone and you now have to find a way to get the rest of the pieces before The Beast escapes What will happen now? Let's find out!
The cold, crisp air of the surrounding environment chills you to the core. The city looks so different from above, the streetlights appearing like stars from below as you scale the sleek, ebony, dimly lit skyscraper.
<span class="mu-i">"Reaper, do you read me?</span> A calm and monotone voice buzzes through your earpiece.
You sigh, the effort of scaling the building slowly wearing down even on your trained muscles. Holding the earpiece with a single finger as you hang off the building with your other hand suctioned on you press down on the auditory device.
"I read you, Crow. This important?" You ask, only managing to mask the exhaustion in your tone very slightly.
The voice on the other side tries to stifle a chuckle, <span class="mu-i">"You're nearing the entry point on the 60th floor, systems picking up multiple readings on the floor just above you. Remember.. our client wants this done quietly, you grab the USB from the floor above, get back to the breached entry, get the fuck out, preferably with no unnecessary casualties. You understanding me?"</span> The masculine voice asks.
You look up, spotting the cut window still intact with it's frame you race up the remaining little bit of the building you have left. You press your hand against the window and..
<span class="mu-s">CLICK</span>
The window comes out of the frame, your one suctioned hand sticking to it, stopping it from falling to the ground and alerting someone. You slip inside the building from the breached point and take off your climbing gear, placing everything in your black duffle bag hanging off your side.
<span class="mu-i">"Goddamnit, Reaper! Do you read me? This contracts a lot of money, don't go fucking up the bonus pay for everyone."</span> The previously cool and collected Crow buzzes sternly in your ear.
>"Relax, you remember who you're talking to? I'm a pro."
>"Money's getting to your head, Crow. Do your job, stay focused and keep an eye on my environment."
Your life was an unmitigated disaster. A comedy of errors that would be funny... If it wasn't you.
You USED to be a star. You USED to shine brighter than any other.
You were a prodigy. You used to be... Someone. Everything you ever wanted and needed was within your grasp and you lost it.
Now, though? You're nothing; your purpose has been ripped from you and you can't let it go. Everyday exists for you to daydream about what could have been. A pointless and painful exercise in imagination.
However, you've realized something. If you can't achieve your dreams maybe your children can. It wouldn't be you, but at least your child would embody some of your essence. Their story would start from you- you would be an undeniable puzzle in their greatness.
And that's almost enough.
The question is... What was your passion? What is your regret?
It's March 1945, you hear about a job in a kind of ‘secret city.’ You don't know what the hell these people are talking about, but it looks promising, even too good to be true. Still, you don't have much to lose after the Great War, so you take the opportunity.
After going through a lot of paperwork and a few other things, in less than a week you're put on a ship with no name and no clear destination. They just told you, ‘It's in the middle of the sea.’
Less than two weeks ago, you were a poor idiot living on the bare minimum, and now you're still a poor idiot, but now you're on a ship heading for ‘the city of the future’. You'd heard of its founder, Andrew Ryan, a rather unique man who was quite crazy about his ideals, which is nothing new in this world.
A couple of shitty days go by. You weren't used to such long boat trips, but you forced yourself to get used to it. The food on the boat is shit, but at least it's better than whatever you could scavenge from the rubbish.
One cold morning, you've lost track of time, sleeping in rooms the size of mouse holes, crammed in with a few other poor idiots like you, seeking a future in an uncertain city. A bell begins to ring, and the ship's crew start shouting announcements: "<span class="mu-s">We've arrived</span>!’ You look out the window and all you can see is sea as far as the eye can see. You run with the crowd to the upper deck.
The crew continue to shout ‘<span class="mu-s">we have arrived</span>’. This is when you see it: an enormous lighthouse, a huge tower, an effigy in the middle of the gigantic and infinite ocean, a shining golden tower rising above the waves.
A submarine appears out of nowhere from the darkness of the ocean, and the ship's officers make preparations to board the submarine.
You are James Underwood the Younger, and you are about to kill a man. You've never done that before. Not that it would be difficult, said man is pinned to the ground and already dying. Courtesy of James Underwood the Elder, your father. A ninety-four year old man, who calmly had you drive him into Mendig's northern projects to linger in a dark alleyway and wait behind a rancid garbage bin for this man to draw near. At which point he simply got up, strode out into the open, and drove a knife into the man. Once, in the back, then once again into his front after he fell. Puncturing the lungs to prevent him screaming, you figure.
Your father...Dad, was always an imposing figure in your life. A former soldier who never raised his voice and never needed to to get either his son or an entire room of suits to listen. You never got a full picture of what he did for Jefferson, even after the latter's fall, but there was a reason he did not oppose your wish to climb the company's ladder without his influence. Even then, he was trying to shield you. You were in your early twenties, but still a little boy to him. That hasn't changed, especially after Mom died. You sometimes compare yourself to those of his generation, who lived and fought in the war, knew the Rebuilding and golden years that followed. A tougher breed than yours, for sure. Dad never cared. You think he was just happy his only child would not know what he did. And now you are about to step into a war, a deadly game, though hopefully as a player and not an ignorant, unwitting pawn.
Dad is scared. The idea fills you with unease. This man fears not pain nor death, and yet he is afraid now. Scared of what is to come, scared that he is not strong enough to protect you. Of course, how could he, he's a dying old man, the thought still echoes in your head. Well, truly that is where your troubles begin.
A few months ago, Dad discovered something. He didn't tell you how, but he apparently found strange floating stones that no one else could see. They gave him power, unnatural abilities, a small part of his youth back, and the ability to get more. From what he knows, these stones are only found dormant in certain people who have taken another's life. Even fewer still may gain these stones, alongside the ability to use them, when killing the killer. You get the feeling Dad isn't telling you everything. But since he calls them blood stones, he figures that those of his blood may also be like him, able to use them.
Your name is Harold Eadric, and you’ve just signed up for war.
You don’t quite know what it is about, but at this point, you will take anything to get out of your village. Years you have been longing to become a man of the world, yet your circumstances have never allowed you to venture much farther than your local village with a name you cannot pronounce. At least you have been able to read stories about the world, and they only made you want to get out of this town more.
Sucks then, that your existence up to this point has mostly been concerned with growing wheat. There isn’t much else you can do in this village, really – if you didn’t plough the fields, you’d have a hard time finding anything to eat during winter. So you wasted your childhood away in the drudgery of this eternal routine, just like your father, grandfather and those before him had. All the while, you hoped you’d find a chance to get out. And just as you had recently turned into your eighteenth year, fortune struck.
"The King is looking for brave men to join the Fight against the treacherous Laumey de Galamad! His men have attacked and slaughtered our people! Answer the King's call and join his armies!"
Your family had protested, your mother had cried when you packed your stuff and left the home and fields which had formed the entirety of your existence up until now – it was all in vain. There you were, speaking to the man in his tent; having mentioned your literacy and fitness brought on you by your years in the fields, he now requested… something else? Something else you could do? You already mentioned literacy, didn’t you?
Last time, you made a bunch of phone calls yet again. Another long spiral of voices going in and out this damn device. Its electronic functions, square shape, and unnecessary brightness displease you. The world would be better without them. One day, you will return to older times, when you read letters — and complained anonymously over billboards. But that’s not now or then.
The relevant fact is that Matilda is joining your efforts. The Mafia topic is more personal to her than half of the people here. But not all. Celia and Aurora have big stakes in the operation.
Right now, your briefing came to a sudden stop. Once again Lydie dropped a cliffhanger worthy line. <span class="mu-s">Your lovely Beth is a former member of the International Assassin Syndicate!</span> Props to the hyperactive rich girl, when she said she was interested in the prisoner, she meant it. And somehow, she got the information from the femme fatale’s mouth!
“Huh… I didn’t know that. I should’ve pressed Beth about her past.” Crossbill is fairly impressed.
“<span class="mu-i">Beth is a what…?!</span>” Liu’s mind remembers the events of last night, and her poor frizzly head can’t wrap around it.
“You’re making stuff up, Lydie. You should give me back my fanclub. Nobody should withstand a liar in a position of authority.” Vera frowns. “Anyone with me? I wanna see some hands raised.”
“Get your own fanclub.” Lydie glares back. Isn’t it yours?
“H-How do you have the gall to say that to me of all people?!” Vera can’t believe the shamelessness. “Besides, the point still stands.”
“Yeah, Beth would never hurt a fly!” Aurora agrees. “I think. She was nice to me.” Rora’s standards are smaller than Liu's.
“Then I ask you, dear Veranica. Why? <span class="mu-i">Why Beth was in prison?!</span>” Lydie ups the theatrics.
“Hell if I know! I got tired of listenin’ to them, their backstories kept getting dumber with each passing one!” Vera remembers the pain.
“Hey, they were fun. Always a treat to meet weirdoes.” Crossbill disagrees.
“You know who they are talking about, right, Celia?” You make sure your Beanie Sister isn’t lost.
“Yeah, you all told me about her… and her deadly hugs.” Celia nods. She’s prepared to face Beth whenever that happens. Nobody is truly ready though. “Shouldn’t you call her? Maybe she knows a thing or two.”
You don’t like the direction this briefing is taking…
<span class="mu-s">What do you do?</span>
>Sigh. Pick up your phone and call Beth… >Decline. Continue with the briefing. Enough time has been spent on this. >Write In.
<span class="mu-s">Who shall join you in this call if it were to happen?</span>
>Aurora. You already were partners. >Matilda. She just arrived. >Vera. To show her Beth’s true nature. >Liu. She knows Beth’s true nature. >Crossbill. They’re roommates. >Celia. Let her have a good picture of Beth. >Beanie Hedgehog. He knows how to keep a secret. >Lydie. She’s the one spilling the beans. Beth would like to know that! >Write In.
