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  • Halloween Havoc (IC)

    Midnight..Halloween. The clock strikes midnight. Somewhere in the world, a sarcophagus trembles, cracks, then breaks in a fiery explosion. The earth shudders as if revulsed, and the wind screams as if in pain. Two red glowing eyes can be seen, then .. nothing.

    Elsewhere regardless where they are, or what they are doing..several legendary monsters..and their descendants are brought to a stop. They can sense something wrong. Something foul is in the air. From the sky (or ceiling whichever is the case) a note drops to your feet..a scarlet letter O on its outside. Inside a time, a place, and a strange symbol that can not be made out. Without having to be told, you know you must be there..that there are great and terrible things afoot..that the fate of all may henge on what transpires there...
    Engaged to the amazing Marmalady. She is my Silver Dragon, shining as bright as the sun. I her Black Dragon (though good honestly), dark as night..fierce and strong.

  • #2
    When midnight struck, Rick Angstrom wasn't around for it.

    Tor Magnusson, the fearsome "Viking Berserker" of the Global Wrestling Federation, on the other hand, was in the ring for the GWF's special "Havoc On Halloween" PPV, competing in the main event as he challenged the aristocratic 'Baron' Raymon Vilaar for the GWF World Title.

    Vilaar had him in a submission hold, twisting Tor's massive legs into a knot and leaning back, curving Tor's back. Tor let out a bellow of pain as he clawed for the ropes, and it was at that moment that the clocks struck midnight, and he felt the Wrongness.

    He looked in front of him and saw the note on the mat in front of him. Tor saw the crimson circle on the parchment, and grabbed it in one massive hand before stuffing it into the front of his singlet.

    Damn them, why did it have to be now?

    With a defiant yell, he grabbed the ropes to force Vilaar to break his hold, lumbering back to his feet as his opponent backed up, then charged in for an attack, only to get Tor's massive hand locked around his throat. With a roar, Tor lifted him up and slammed him down with a ferocious chokeslam, laying across him and hooking a leg for the 1-2-3.

    He barely listened as the ring announcer declared him the winner and as the GWF World Championship belt was strapped around his waist. Instead, Rick Angstrom wondered what was going on that he was getting a summons now.

    An hour later, after the post-match interview, the photo sessions of him posing with his new championship, and a shower, Rick was in his hotel room, packing up his things and preparing to answer the call, sighing to himself. What a way to start the season.
    PWNADE(TM) - Serve up a glass today! | PWNZER - An act of pwnage so awesome, it's like the victim got hit by a tank.

    There are only Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse because I choose to walk!

    Comment


    • #3
      It's been a busy night at the emergency clinic. It always is on Halloween. And since most people want to be out having fun with the other revelers, I volunteer.

      The kids overload themselves on candy and excitement and then the parents, scared out of their wits by shocking news articles about adulterated treats rush them in to get checked out. The older ones, too cool for trick-or-treating, graduate to egging and tp-ing houses and other similar tomfoolery, resulting in a sudden upswing in minor sprains, bumps, bruises and the occasional fracture. And then there are the adults, often a mixed bag of overanxious parents oversampling their youngsters' goodies, oversampling the drinks at whatever party they attended, and, sometimes, engaging in the same juvenile hi-jinks as the teens, and resulting in the same injuries.

      I like the bustle of a busy night. The more people rushing about, the less attention they pay to the lowly aides. The more chaos in clinic, the less likely they are to notice a roll of bandages being used on a patient with no external wounds, or that same patient making a recovery from what was an otherwise serious condition. The crazier the lobby gets, the more opportunity I have to help people, and helping people makes me happy.

      I hadn't realized how late it had gotten when they start wheeling in the first of about a dozen local high school kids who had been mudding in one of the fields over at the old Masters place. The rains from earlier in the week had made it the perfect place for them to show off the different trucks some of them had received for birthdays over the last several months. One thing led to another, and I'd gotten the story from one of the girls (who escaped injury because she refused to get into a muddy truck bed in her fancy white Cleopatra costume, which I had to admit looked a hell of a lot better than my own, despite the mistakes the manufacturer had made with it).

      It seems that most of the crew had stuffed themselves into the bed of the biggest truck there and then the driver had set out spinning around in the mud and making a general mess when he hit something that had been buried while doing a spin and the speed and momentum was enough to throw the truck onto it's side and sending the kids in the back flying everywhere. It was a mess.

      The shiver that ran down my spine had nothing to do with the ear-splitting shriek of pain mixed with melodrama out of the girl with the broken foot and the mud-splattered Bride wig. I don't even see the note until the guy in the James Dean jacket is given a bed and I spot the white slip stuck in the mud of one boot. Nobody else seems to be paying any attention to things that don't involve either cleaning or patching up freaked out teens, so I get to satisfy my curiosity without challenge. I wipe the other side off on a clean bit of bed (it's not like there's much of that left, anyway) and spot the crimson O. I resist looking around to see if anybody is watching me and glance inside before tucking the paper away.

      I know all the old stories; Mom has made a point of making sure I knew our purpose. But I never actually thought there would be a call. Not in my lifetime. Not while I was still so young.

      I'm not ready for this.

      But ready or not, this is it.



      ^-.-^
      Faith is about what you do. It's about aspiring to be better and nobler and kinder than you are. It's about making sacrifices for the good of others. - Dresden

      Comment


      • #4
        Reggie chuckled to himself as he exited the back door of the pool hall. For once he came away a few dollars ahead. Most of it was in change, including a couple of old silver dollars someone had waged, claiming they brought them good luck. Tonight they didn’t. Reggie tucked them into a special pocket so he wouldn’t loose them.

        He headed into the darker recesses of the alley as the clock struck midnight. Reggie cursed under his breath. You would think that after so many changes he would be used to it, but you never get used to feeling like you’ve been hit with a world-class hangover. And he hadn’t even been drinking. It just wasn’t fair.

        Reggie staggered a few feet after becoming a zombie, leaning against a wall to maintain his balance. As he started to move on, he saw a white piece of paper on the ground in front of him. Not an unusual thing to see in an alley, except for the glowing red circle on it. He picked it up, looked around, and seeing no one, opened it. He wasn’t sure what it meant. He only knew he had to obey the summons, immediately. Not that he had any choice. His normal nightly routine of shielding drunks from muggers would have to wait until another night.

        It took Reggie several hours to reach the address in the note. He had to detour around several brightly lit areas. Mostly, though, his route took him through the seedier parts of town where his appearance did not attract attention.

        When he arrived, Reggie walked up to the doors at the address given. He opened the doors without knocking and walked in.
        "I don't have to be petty. The Universe does that for me."

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        • #5
          Tonight is the anniversary of my mother's death. That's what I've been told at least. I'm up praying, meditating, whatever you want to call it. The scent of patchouli incense and the sweet smell of freshly laundered sheets wafted around my small apartment. I keep trying to clear my mind, but there's a feeling of unease. Something felt off.

          My snakes made soft hissing sounds. They can feel my discomfort. It's times like these that I really wish I had a cat. Some soft furry companion to put me at ease. Despite the rigorous training my grandmother put me through, I still sometimes lost control of my emotions.

          I miss Muffin.

          I'm not usually up this late, but those trick or treaters kept knocking on my door despite my light being off. I'm lucky I live in an apartment or I would have been worried that one of those little gremlins would egg my place. I clear my mind enough to relax. My mind focuses on the meditation music playing in the background. It's a lullaby for my brain.

          Suddenly, I feel a violent tremor run through my body. My heart rate increases tenfold and I can feel my babies come loose from their cloth wrappings. Shit.

          What's going on?

          My eyes burst open and I see an envelope on the ground. This. I've been waiting for this. I knew it was only a matter of time. I have finally resigned myself that I wasn't going to get any sleep tonight and got up to start packing.

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          • #6
            Midnight on Halloween chimed nearly unnoticed by Arisa Holt as she ran another series of tests on the latest blood samples. The holiday made it easier to snag a bag of nearly expired blood and jam a straw into it under the guise of a themed energy drink. Really whomever thought up the idea to market drinks in blood bags was a genius. If Arisa ever met that person, she would definitely have to thank them. And inspectors never came around during night shift, so the normal rules about no food or drink in clinical areas were summarily ignored. Arisa took a long sip. She liked blood better warm, but a vampire at a hospital blood bank (oh the irony, she thought) couldn't be choosy.

            As the last chime of midnight sounded, Arisa felt a stirring in her soul. Puzzled, she glance around until her bright green eyes spotted the folded note. The crimson O blazed against the white paper. Oh no. Not now. Arisa's shift didn't end for several hours, and they were slammed. Halloween often brought out the stupidity in the masses, and those masses were requiring a lot of blood transfusions tonight. Her hopes of a quiet--if strange--life were dashed as realization sunk in. The summons she had heard about all her life and prayed she'd never hear had come. And tonight of all nights. The more she tried to ignore it, the more her heart and head pounded until she knew she couldn't fight it. Whatever passed for the shadowy Monsters' Council demanded her presence and there was no denying them.

            Reluctantly, Arisa flagged down another lab tech and with the excuse of feeling sick and swearing to someday return the favor, stepped out into the night. It was warm for October, but Arisa shivered. Something big was about to happen. Clutching the note tightly in her fist, Arisa made her way to the address shown. Things were about to get interesting.
            I am no longer of capable of the emotion you humans call “compassion”. Though I can feign it in exchange for an hourly wage. (Gravekeeper)

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            • #7
              When he arrived, Reggie walked up to the doors at the address given. He opened the doors without knocking and walked in.

              As he entered, he saw about a dozen people. He saw Cleopatra, Caesar, a mummy, a werewolf, two vampires, the Joker, Batman and several other monsters. Monster Mash was playing on the stereo. They were laughing and drinking, and having a party. They were not aware he was around.

              Reggie quietly went back outside, checked the address on the note, and realized he had entered the wrong house. He went two doors down, and walked into the house at the correct address.
              "I don't have to be petty. The Universe does that for me."

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              • #8
                It was Halloween night and Kayln Darkwynd could just hear the clock strick midnight. She had her nose in a book again. This is how she spent most of her evenings. She had finally had her PhD and was a researcher for a professor on campus. She loved what she did. It worked out well, as long as she got her projects done she could raid the libraries for clues to her families history. Plus it kept her calm.

                As she turned the page in the book she was reading and taking notes from, she noticed a piece of paper on the floor, it had a crimson O on it. Of for the love of, she thought, why tonight of all nights. Just when i was making progress. Oh well can't be help. Her family drilled into her head from a young age, if you see this mark drop everything and go to where it tells you to.

                Kayln starts to gather up her studying and changes into more comfortable and strechy clothes, just in case she has to draw on her inner strength. Grabs her tactical bag with her need items and runs out the door.
                Coffee should be strong, black and chewy! It should strip paint and frighten small children.

                My blog Darkwynd's Musings

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                • #9
                  "Five more minutes...."

                  Sunny rolled over in her bed, slapping the much abused clock radio on her nightstand. After realizing that the warning noise was in her head she slowly opened her eyes.

                  The scrap of paper confused her at first. Maybe her parents were leaving her a note? Not at this time of night, no. As curious as she was, she really couldn't drop everything and leave. She'd have to wait until morning.
                  Shameless Blog Link:

                  http://quiltingmoonkin.blogspot.com/

                  PM me to ask about quilts.

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                  • #10
                    Eventually everybody arrives at the address..and once inside realizes that the dimensions inside do not match those of the outside. A figure in a red robe meets everybody, and ushers them into an enormous circular room, this one room would put most baseball stadiums to shame size wise.

                    From the opposite side of the room, several figures start filing in. Some are easily recognized, some you have no clue who..or what they are. Eventually some very easily recognized figures enter the room.

                    The first is rather tall, and seems to be several different people all sewn together. Rather large bolts are on each side of this figures neck. Yet despite the stories, he seems to walk with a dignified grace.

                    The next is even bigger, which is hard to believe, and covered in hair from tip of the head to the feet. Standing well over 9' tall, with muscular shoulders wider then most people are tall, yet their .. hands..paws..whatever you wanted to call them touched the ground. Red glowing piercing eyes scan the assembled people gathered. Razor sharp claws and talons complete the intimidating look.

                    It is the next person, however, that sends chills down even the stoutest of you. It is not the size or look that causes concern, but an aura of power that just exudes from the person. He is quite handsome, young looking, and seems downright .. normal compared to most of the others..but you notice the others seem to defer to him, and try to stay out of his way. At first you think he might be your 'host', but he steps aside like the others. His Victorian dress suggests he might be Vlaad Dracule..the vampire in the group would have absolutely no doubt that the figure is indeed the first vampire.

                    Finally another figure comes in. He is about 5'8", dressed in a simple black t-shirt, and black denim jeans. He seems perfectly human, and he does not have the commanding aura of the previous person. He is a little rugged (think looking like Hugh Jackman), however. He goes to the center, and begins to speak. "Ladies, gentlemen, and .. other." He looks around the room as that gets a polite chuckle. "Some of you know why we are here tonight, some of you don't. Not too long ago, Malbozia..one of the most dangerous devils in the nine hells, escaped the prison we lost so many to lock him in. We know he is going to wake his general and lieutenants..and that they will seek to awaken their army..and then..they will be coming for us." His gaze is quite piercing as he looks everybody in the eye.

                    "Even if it were not for the fact that we are going to be his first target, however, we would still be here. We must protect the humans from this fiend. The entire world is in danger, every man, woman, and child." There are some murmurs as he turns to face each person, only a few seem willing to meet his gaze.

                    Finally a harpy speaks up. "We lost so many last time we fought him. Our numbers, even with the children that were had, are a quarter of what they were. Can we even defeat him this time?" there are some worried whispering in agreement of the question.

                    "We have no choice!" Says the rather large hairy person forcefully. "I have some pups here, mere children, because we need all the help we can get, but I will be a lap dog before I tuck my tail between my legs and run!"

                    "Run where?" The accent of the man with the powerful aura is .. interesting. "Van Helsing and our hairy friend here is right. We FIGHT, and this time..no prisons..we send him back to the pits where he belongs..for good!" Some strong applause and shouts of agreement are heard from the crowd.

                    "ENOUGH!" When the man in the middle, apparently called Van Helsing speaks..there is instant respectful silence. "We know the general and lieutenants will use the few minions they have to go after seven relics that will allow them to restore their army to full strength. We must not only keep them from them, but we must destroy the general and lieutenants to weaken Malbozia enough to destroy him once and for all." He looks at the new members ((that would be you)). "This is not really your fight..he will come after you because you are what you are..but everybody here would understand if you decide not to participate. Understand this, however..if you do not bring the fight to him..he will bring the fight to you. Will you help? Will you fight to protect those who possibly might try to kill you if they learn who and what you are?"
                    Last edited by Mytical; 10-20-2012, 03:24 AM.
                    Engaged to the amazing Marmalady. She is my Silver Dragon, shining as bright as the sun. I her Black Dragon (though good honestly), dark as night..fierce and strong.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Reggie looked at the people standing around the room. All seemed to be considering the words they just heard. He only knew the compulsion he was under, and that he had no choice but to be involved in this.

                      Reggie spoke: “My name is Reggie. I am new to all of you here, and I am a zombie. 200 years ago I had been press-ganged onto a slave ship sailing from west Africa to the Caribbean. A British antislavery patrol chanced upon us. Seeing that we were out-gunned, the Captain ordered our cargo to be jettisoned. As we were herding those poor souls out the lower ports, one woman turned to me and said “I curse you to become one of the undead, and to stand in my stead to fight the Great Evil if and when it returns to enslave humanity. With my death, you shall thus forever be bound.’ I had wondered what she meant by that. Now I know. I will stand with you and do what I can to defeat Malbozia and his minions.”
                      "I don't have to be petty. The Universe does that for me."

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Before departing for the meeting, Rick Angstrom begged off from the GWF for a week or so. The excuse he gave was a death in the family, and apologized for the bad timing, being right after his winning the World Championship, but at least Ken McManus (the head of the GWF) was understanding and let him do so.

                        At the meeting, Rick wasn't exactly someone that went unnoticed by the others present. Being six-foot-eight and just so damn big in general meant that he stood out. He listened in on the lecture from the ones ... apparently running this show. One he could tell was Frankenstein's 'Monster', the next could only have been Sasquatch or something, and then Vlad "Dracula" Tepes, and finally Van Helsing.

                        Dracul's aura did make him sit up slightly. In the back of his head, he could feel the feral part of his brain trying to flip the switch, and felt his heartrate start to climb. With a quick series of breathing exercises, he got it under control before his change overtook him.

                        Digesting the situation and the question, Rick watched as the zombie stood up and pledged his support. Once Reggie sat down, the troll-kin stood.

                        "My name is Rick. Some of you have probably already recognized me from television, but I don't know any of you. I've lived my life trying to keep my troll-kin nature under control, because I'd be a danger to everyone around me if I lost control." He ran a hand along his shaven scalp, then stroked his beard a bit. "If what you say is true, this Malbozia would be more of a danger. I will fight with you."

                        In his head, the feral side of his nature, the rampaging troll side, growled in anticipation at being able to cut loose on something without worry of repercussions.
                        PWNADE(TM) - Serve up a glass today! | PWNZER - An act of pwnage so awesome, it's like the victim got hit by a tank.

                        There are only Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse because I choose to walk!

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Arisa eyed this Van Helsing warily. So much for my quiet life, she thought. Her powers had begun to manifest on her seventeenth birthday and her mother had been instrumental in teaching her how to control them. Still, her powers were more for defense and concealing who she really was rather than offense and fighting. Taking on this Malbozia--boy did that name sound ominous--would be suicide with her current level of power.

                          Her gaze slid to Dracule. How could she not recognize the First Vampire? The power he exuded was unmistakable. Surely he could be of help. She addressed her answer to him. "My name is Arisa Holt. I am a vampire. I work for a hospital. As such, I have no fighting experience--supernatural or otherwise. Joining this fight now would end badly for me and I suspect I'm not the only one. However, as Mr Helsing has pointed out, Malbozia and his armies will come for me anyway. And I do not intend to sit and wait to die." She gave a respectful bow. "I am with you, and I would be honored if you would help me develop my powers so they may be of use to counter this threat."
                          I am no longer of capable of the emotion you humans call “compassion”. Though I can feign it in exchange for an hourly wage. (Gravekeeper)

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                          • #14
                            My eyes go wide at the name of the one we have been called together to deal with.

                            Malbolzia.

                            He was the reason that my father gave up his wrapping so that I could be raised with his power. His injuries from the last great emergency had left him powerless to protect anyone for the next, which is most of the reason I even existed.

                            And now, here it was.

                            Malbozia.

                            Even the thought of that name sent shivers down my spine.

                            I wasn't aware I was standing until it came time to speak. The words came more easily than I would have thought; and even I could barely hear the hint of terror that had set up shop in the back of my mind.

                            "I am Beset Al-Alawi, and I will join you. I may not be as strong as some of the rest here, but we're going to need every bit of power we have, and if we wait, even that much won't be enough."

                            I sounded so... mousey, after the others. It's not the first time I'm thankful that my darker coloration works to hide my blush.



                            ^-.-^
                            Faith is about what you do. It's about aspiring to be better and nobler and kinder than you are. It's about making sacrifices for the good of others. - Dresden

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Livia Fletcher sat among the rest, clutching a crumpled -- and now quite damp -- piece of paper in one hand ... the piece of paper, with the blood-red 'O' on it. She'd been hoping for a distraction from her latest studies (ancient Egyptian ... what had she been thinking??) but at the moment she'd gladly go back to struggling with hieroglyphics.

                              So Malbozia was back.

                              And no doubt he's pissed off, she thought, a trifle hysterically.

                              She'd known this day would come. Her family had passed a veiled warning along from one generation to the next, that someday a deadly evil would be loosed on the world and a Fletcher would definitely be among those sent to fight it.

                              And here she was.

                              Just my luck.

                              Stifling a sigh, she stood up and cleared her throat.

                              "My name is Livia Fletcher. I'm not sure ... um ... exactly what I can do, but I can promise that I will do my best and that I will not abandon the fight."

                              Hooboy, she thought, nearly collapsing back into her chair, as a heroic speech, that one could've used a good editor. Or better yet, a complete rewrite.

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