Post by Evan McCulloch on Apr 2, 2021 7:02:39 GMT -5
Participants: Hartley Rathaway | Evan McCulloch
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): Mirror Realm of the Phantom King
Time of Day: Varies
Weather: Varies
Summary: A snitch has stirred trouble in the city, so a little bird sent someone to deal with the problem.
It was a grey and dismal morning across the neon slums of Central City. Cold wet smog blanketed the air and draped itself in a cozy chill across every man woman and child. Drizzled fog enveloped the streets, encroaching every towering brick building like an octopus coiling around it’s prey. Loathsome days like these had a special way of making every wretched person and every derelict thing look act and feel just that much more ugly. Central City had sunken into the abyss that day, drenched in scattered writhing puddles of mud which almost looked gaudy and alive. Fiercely monstrous looking rain puddles which appeared to ogle and creep upon the odd passerby. An entirely unknowable creep festered across town, as if a cosmically malevolent force has latched itself upon the earth and made everyone cranky hideous and rude. Green combat boots sloshed across a field of wriggling muck, brown sludge smearing itself across the hem of tattered work jeans which had tears at the knees and shreds at the hem. The decrepit figure leered its gaze up to an apartment window. Watching. Watching a blonde figure prepare for the day. The figure faded away into the encompassing smog, green boots stomping off into the distant fog.
The day began with a trip to the supermarket, with a million eyes glancing from all angles. Scaly amphibious people with bulbous glassy eyes croaked and belched over supermarket produce. Revolting goatish faces snorted and gagged primitively over apples and oranges. They hacked and heaved like hogs and performed some primitive ungodly dance as they packed up copious foods and drinks into grimy hideous shopping carts. Amidst the background image of this garish blasphemous display of consumerism, a pale freckled figure sunk a toothy bite into a ripe juicy apple. He crunched comfortably within the crowds, viscous and flavorful fruit slime sloshing with each tasty crunch, trickling down his throat in a slow but tasty stream. The gap of the figure’s teeth shimmered back to him in the apple’s red shine as he reached in for another succulent chomp. Eating and just watching. Next came a trip to Jitters, the earthly comforting miasma of coffee grounds tangoed a delightful beckoning waft across the nostrils. But when the café doors swung open a foul and odorous stench clashed with the billowing and comfortable smell. Walking pustules of talking flesh in a Jitters uniform reeked a stink of desperation and misery. Ugly shadowy figures profusely stunk of some charnel depression which stank up the heavenly coffee and sugary donut treats. Behind it all, brown bloodshot eyes peered through the window. Watching. Even when the sway of noon washed over, the creep of fog and disgust leered almighty over the twin cities. The only light and joy came from a gleaming purple Synthfield Mall. The building was practically empty apart from a few scattered creeps and loathsome creatures shopping around or dining at the food court. Some guttural daemonic hymn with a terrible beat played over the intercom and echoed across the building’s chambers with vexatious little imps scampering around in some blighted revelry of these eldritch prayers. A herd of the little gremlins scampered past a leering fellow who stood in the shadows. He leaned against the wall before a monstrously dark corridor. He wore a tight long sleeved t-shirt hoodie which was a muted shade of orange with thin black stripes around it. But the only visible features of the hoodie were the hood and sleeves because it was nestled snugly under a muted green vest. He was watching. Watching a figure enter a music shop, but when the figure stepped out he was no longer there. The clouds parted way at dusk with a nightmarish blackness slashing across the skies. The striking visage of cloaked green figure leered in the shadow of a full moon. There came a scream at the dead of night, a loud thud, and ringing sound of two men clubbed down by the hooded green vigilante. A stoic figure leaned against an empty bus stop which was riddled with insects and muck. A messy reddish brown fringe cut leered out from his hood, and he was watching. The vigilante stepped out of an alleyway, but the fellow was gone. At nights end the vigilante had returned to his average home after an abysmally foggy day. Some time had passed, when finally a towering presence took shape under the apartment’s imposing image.
Moonlight gleamed into the small one bedroom flat. Hardwood floors were caked in an icing of shadows with only a single beam of white which wooden tiles soaked in like a sponge. Glistening moonlight dimly illuminated a bedroom and bed, entirely unfettered and not at all eclipsed. White beams glistening brightly, until a looming presence made some faintly human shadow looking within. It faded about as soon as it came, as if it were merely some sudden flash of lightning splashing in and then fading away entirely. A murky television peered out to a green carpet, dimly lit by lamplight. Hartley stepped by, and the television spied on. Muddied black shoes of the Pied Piper costume stepped past, the Piper’s murky form reflected back to him within the brass of a clarinet. The television ogled, his fading image glinting back to him from further and further away as he hobbled on. There came a slight creak of a doorway opening slowly then closing, and then with a loud hissing noise what followed was the pitter patter of shower water. A moment passed before green boots trudged across wooden tiles with a slight creaking as it marched by. The frightened beady eyes of two pet rodents followed the trail of mute green combat boots up to the muddied hem of tattered jeans. Tattered jeans which they did not recognize. Horrified legs immediately scampered off in terror as the boots crept slowly across the carpet. Moonlight glared fiercely upon the towering figure, piercing through him as though he were a clear pitcher of water. The hem of the jeans were cut short by the billowing trail of sone skintight rubber butcher’s smock with almost mystical qualities. It was a translucent orange hue which revealed no body beneath, but instead offered a view of the hardwood flooring behind shaded a dull orange hue from the suit. Several green belts trailed across the mystical butcher smock, across the figure’s chest arms and shoulders with the largest tethered around the waste limply holding a holstered pistol. The belts were not translucent like the long sleeved smock, and appeared to almost hover when looked at from the opposite side. Green boots made only calculated and deliberate steps, creeping past a freshly cleaned liter box. An eerie form haunted the halls like a ghoul, peering at little trinkets and knick knacks. A shrill shiver crept down the spine of twin rodents spying on from afar. Heads low and timid, and paralyzed with fright, all they could do is peer fearfully up to the back hood of a muted green cowl as the monstrous invader lurched on into the kitchen. The cowl’s fabric slumped far down the ghoul’s back, above the translucent smock and nestled cozily as far as the tip of the beast’s scapula. A translucent orange arm traced itself along a polished countertop, muted dark green gloves dancing past an empty sink and a drying plate then finally crawling up a cutlery set. Green fingers coiled themselves firmly at the hilt of one of the knives. With a sharp unsheathing, the gripped knife fell firmly below the figure’s waist.
Steam billowed playfully amidst the bright glow of bathroom lights. Clouding the air as a myriad of water droplets trickled down by the thousands, short streams of steamy shower puddles danced across a soft blonde face. Splashing across neck muscle and wet hair and splattering against enamel floors. The bathroom door crept open, but made no noise. Hazy shower curtains and the thick miasma of steam clouded the background in an intense fog of war. A grey form took shape at first quite small and very dimly outlined but then the shape grew as it lurched forward a black form clouded by the haze of shower curtains with only the smattering of water to echo across the room it stepped forwards some more until the full black outline of a towering male form loomed there silent and still at the curtain, and with a fierce thrust, the curtain pulled back, ripped to the side, a gleaming steak knife held to the air towering above both forms. A blank glass mask glared horrifically to the face of Hartley Rathaway, the flickering lights of an led face blinked at him before the figure attempted to strike, trying to thrust the blade deep into the Pied Piper’s shoulder.
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): Mirror Realm of the Phantom King
Time of Day: Varies
Weather: Varies
Summary: A snitch has stirred trouble in the city, so a little bird sent someone to deal with the problem.
It was a grey and dismal morning across the neon slums of Central City. Cold wet smog blanketed the air and draped itself in a cozy chill across every man woman and child. Drizzled fog enveloped the streets, encroaching every towering brick building like an octopus coiling around it’s prey. Loathsome days like these had a special way of making every wretched person and every derelict thing look act and feel just that much more ugly. Central City had sunken into the abyss that day, drenched in scattered writhing puddles of mud which almost looked gaudy and alive. Fiercely monstrous looking rain puddles which appeared to ogle and creep upon the odd passerby. An entirely unknowable creep festered across town, as if a cosmically malevolent force has latched itself upon the earth and made everyone cranky hideous and rude. Green combat boots sloshed across a field of wriggling muck, brown sludge smearing itself across the hem of tattered work jeans which had tears at the knees and shreds at the hem. The decrepit figure leered its gaze up to an apartment window. Watching. Watching a blonde figure prepare for the day. The figure faded away into the encompassing smog, green boots stomping off into the distant fog.
The day began with a trip to the supermarket, with a million eyes glancing from all angles. Scaly amphibious people with bulbous glassy eyes croaked and belched over supermarket produce. Revolting goatish faces snorted and gagged primitively over apples and oranges. They hacked and heaved like hogs and performed some primitive ungodly dance as they packed up copious foods and drinks into grimy hideous shopping carts. Amidst the background image of this garish blasphemous display of consumerism, a pale freckled figure sunk a toothy bite into a ripe juicy apple. He crunched comfortably within the crowds, viscous and flavorful fruit slime sloshing with each tasty crunch, trickling down his throat in a slow but tasty stream. The gap of the figure’s teeth shimmered back to him in the apple’s red shine as he reached in for another succulent chomp. Eating and just watching. Next came a trip to Jitters, the earthly comforting miasma of coffee grounds tangoed a delightful beckoning waft across the nostrils. But when the café doors swung open a foul and odorous stench clashed with the billowing and comfortable smell. Walking pustules of talking flesh in a Jitters uniform reeked a stink of desperation and misery. Ugly shadowy figures profusely stunk of some charnel depression which stank up the heavenly coffee and sugary donut treats. Behind it all, brown bloodshot eyes peered through the window. Watching. Even when the sway of noon washed over, the creep of fog and disgust leered almighty over the twin cities. The only light and joy came from a gleaming purple Synthfield Mall. The building was practically empty apart from a few scattered creeps and loathsome creatures shopping around or dining at the food court. Some guttural daemonic hymn with a terrible beat played over the intercom and echoed across the building’s chambers with vexatious little imps scampering around in some blighted revelry of these eldritch prayers. A herd of the little gremlins scampered past a leering fellow who stood in the shadows. He leaned against the wall before a monstrously dark corridor. He wore a tight long sleeved t-shirt hoodie which was a muted shade of orange with thin black stripes around it. But the only visible features of the hoodie were the hood and sleeves because it was nestled snugly under a muted green vest. He was watching. Watching a figure enter a music shop, but when the figure stepped out he was no longer there. The clouds parted way at dusk with a nightmarish blackness slashing across the skies. The striking visage of cloaked green figure leered in the shadow of a full moon. There came a scream at the dead of night, a loud thud, and ringing sound of two men clubbed down by the hooded green vigilante. A stoic figure leaned against an empty bus stop which was riddled with insects and muck. A messy reddish brown fringe cut leered out from his hood, and he was watching. The vigilante stepped out of an alleyway, but the fellow was gone. At nights end the vigilante had returned to his average home after an abysmally foggy day. Some time had passed, when finally a towering presence took shape under the apartment’s imposing image.
Moonlight gleamed into the small one bedroom flat. Hardwood floors were caked in an icing of shadows with only a single beam of white which wooden tiles soaked in like a sponge. Glistening moonlight dimly illuminated a bedroom and bed, entirely unfettered and not at all eclipsed. White beams glistening brightly, until a looming presence made some faintly human shadow looking within. It faded about as soon as it came, as if it were merely some sudden flash of lightning splashing in and then fading away entirely. A murky television peered out to a green carpet, dimly lit by lamplight. Hartley stepped by, and the television spied on. Muddied black shoes of the Pied Piper costume stepped past, the Piper’s murky form reflected back to him within the brass of a clarinet. The television ogled, his fading image glinting back to him from further and further away as he hobbled on. There came a slight creak of a doorway opening slowly then closing, and then with a loud hissing noise what followed was the pitter patter of shower water. A moment passed before green boots trudged across wooden tiles with a slight creaking as it marched by. The frightened beady eyes of two pet rodents followed the trail of mute green combat boots up to the muddied hem of tattered jeans. Tattered jeans which they did not recognize. Horrified legs immediately scampered off in terror as the boots crept slowly across the carpet. Moonlight glared fiercely upon the towering figure, piercing through him as though he were a clear pitcher of water. The hem of the jeans were cut short by the billowing trail of sone skintight rubber butcher’s smock with almost mystical qualities. It was a translucent orange hue which revealed no body beneath, but instead offered a view of the hardwood flooring behind shaded a dull orange hue from the suit. Several green belts trailed across the mystical butcher smock, across the figure’s chest arms and shoulders with the largest tethered around the waste limply holding a holstered pistol. The belts were not translucent like the long sleeved smock, and appeared to almost hover when looked at from the opposite side. Green boots made only calculated and deliberate steps, creeping past a freshly cleaned liter box. An eerie form haunted the halls like a ghoul, peering at little trinkets and knick knacks. A shrill shiver crept down the spine of twin rodents spying on from afar. Heads low and timid, and paralyzed with fright, all they could do is peer fearfully up to the back hood of a muted green cowl as the monstrous invader lurched on into the kitchen. The cowl’s fabric slumped far down the ghoul’s back, above the translucent smock and nestled cozily as far as the tip of the beast’s scapula. A translucent orange arm traced itself along a polished countertop, muted dark green gloves dancing past an empty sink and a drying plate then finally crawling up a cutlery set. Green fingers coiled themselves firmly at the hilt of one of the knives. With a sharp unsheathing, the gripped knife fell firmly below the figure’s waist.
Steam billowed playfully amidst the bright glow of bathroom lights. Clouding the air as a myriad of water droplets trickled down by the thousands, short streams of steamy shower puddles danced across a soft blonde face. Splashing across neck muscle and wet hair and splattering against enamel floors. The bathroom door crept open, but made no noise. Hazy shower curtains and the thick miasma of steam clouded the background in an intense fog of war. A grey form took shape at first quite small and very dimly outlined but then the shape grew as it lurched forward a black form clouded by the haze of shower curtains with only the smattering of water to echo across the room it stepped forwards some more until the full black outline of a towering male form loomed there silent and still at the curtain, and with a fierce thrust, the curtain pulled back, ripped to the side, a gleaming steak knife held to the air towering above both forms. A blank glass mask glared horrifically to the face of Hartley Rathaway, the flickering lights of an led face blinked at him before the figure attempted to strike, trying to thrust the blade deep into the Pied Piper’s shoulder.
| Hartley Rathaway |
(Description permissions granted by Piper)
(Description permissions granted by Piper)
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