csyphrett

I'll put in my geography tonight when I get home, or tomorrow in the morning. I'm still trying to think what I can add. We have a spiral type world with a tree in the middle of it with rainbows circling the edges. A stairway to the gods is located somewhere, but I am not sure where. Rivers go up the spiral towards the top which means people can reach the top if they can sail long enough. Oceans and volcanoes/mountains are implied as a topological feature, but not really specified. Did I miss anything? CES

Not me CES

Switcher engages in a chain of deals with one theft moving to the next theft which moves to the next theft. If you can figure out why he stole something, you can stop him at his next theft. CES

Little Mac Winston came into contact with some Hzeel technology. It augmented his right arm and shoulder. It lost him his career as a boxer. He traded up to being a hero after knocking out a giant robot with one punch. CES

Burr had to take one for the team and step down from his committee appointment according to the paper. I would love for his ill gotten gains to be seized like a cookie being grabbed by the cookie monster CES

Liaden's Legionnaires is a group of ten heroes drawing from Lord Liaden's Unique character origins thread. One background for one hero This is the thread in question CES

You damn skippy as my grandmother used to say CES

I don't think I have a grasp on the geography part of things yet so I am going to pick a fauna to give the world. I'm giving the world Rattatataosks, giant, angry squirrels. CES

Legs Kilkenny was crippled in a car accident. As revenge, he waits for people to come out of bars and saloons and he runs them down as they cross the parking lot to their vehicles. He uses a chainsaw to make sure they never walk again. CES

Ezra Manning was an expert monster and mage hunter. He armed himself with special bullets to punch through any magical defense, wards, and patiently stalked any quarry that crossed his trail. After the Society broke apart, he retired. Some rumors report that he could be training other monster hunters to carry on the tradition. CES

I need a mystic guardian that people will respect. I'm going to pick the water dragon as my choice of guardian. It controls the ocean, and can ride the air. It also breathes out lightning, and knows enough magic to be a threat to normal personas who want to cause trouble. CES

Flight of the Rocket Man 1941 1 Frank Saxon looked at the fire in the ring of rocks in front of him. He had decided to take the weekend off and head out of Idaville for a while. He would have a ton of work to catch up on Monday, but he didn’t care at the moment. His boss, Frank Flanagan, had landed some contracts with the government to make parts. Production had been slow at first since America was neutral at the time. After Pearl, production had ramped up to meet the increasing demand. Saxon had been promoted up to help the two men already in charge of the lines. His job entailed making sure all the parts were right, and shipped on time. Sometimes he had to run checks to do it. He had been working sixty hour weeks for a while, and could feel burnout arriving to take him away. He decided a couple of days away from the hustle and bustle would do him good. Camping had been something he had enjoyed as a boy before moving to the big city of New York. He had done some in the Barrens south of the city until he had earned his first promotion and moved west to California. Business had demanded that he give up his relaxation until he could leave crew chiefs in charge without having to look over their shoulders. Two days didn’t seem that much to ask of his crews. Saxon hoped he hadn’t made a mistake heading up into the woods to get away from it all. After getting off from the plant, Saxon had driven home and grabbed his pack and tent. He drove north after that. He arrived at his campground a few hours later. He had brought a cooler full of steaks. He had built a fire and placed a steak on a stick over the fire. He supposed he was sending a signal to the wildlife that good eating was being done, but he couldn’t do without that unless he wanted to eat cold steak. It wouldn’t be the first time he had eaten cold food, but this time he could choose to do without instead of having it taken away from him. He turned the steak slowly on the stake so it would cook evenly. He planned to catch some shuteye after eating. The next day he would hike around, read underneath a tree, maybe swim in the local pond. He had no idea what to do with most of Sunday, but at some point, he would have head home and get ready for work on Monday. He would probably leave from the camp at around dark. There wouldn’t be that many people on the road, and he should have a smooth sail down to his place. After work Monday meant laundry. He would have to take care of that after he went from the office. It felt good to be out on his own away from everything. Even after work, he still had a ton of paperwork to manage. He had set up a home office just to keep it in one place in his house. He had never thought that would be something to worry about when he had taken his promotion. He nodded when his steak looked ready to eat. He got a plate from his supplies and put the steak down on it. He stuck his stick in the fire before he hunted up a knife and fork to cut up his meal. He frowned as a streak of light appeared in the sky overhead while he ate. Where had that come from? He watched it for a few seconds, unsure of what he was seeing. He realized the streak was heading right for his camp site. He placed the plate next to the fire as he stood. He headed away from the camp, watching the thing turn into a glowing ball heading down on top of him like a cannonball. Saxon started running. He didn’t want to see a meteorite up close. He dove to try to get out of the impact zone. A pressure wave helped him by flinging him away from his camp site with a loud roar. Saxon picked himself up after taking a moment to make sure he was intact. His pants were on fire, but he was glad that he hadn’t hit a tree in the dark. He beat the small fires out on his pants. He kicked off his shoes. They were practically destroyed. He looked at his camp site. A crater sat where his fire should be. He didn’t see his tent, or any of his supplies. If they survived, they might have been blown clear like he was. Small fires had been set around the pit. Some of the trees seemed to be on fire too. He had a fire extinguisher in his car down at the ranger station. He could go down there and get it and come back to put the fires out if he hurried. Frank went to the crater and looked down at the cooling pool in the ground. He frowned at the liquid. Where was the rest of the meteor? Could it have melted on impact. He didn’t believe that. He reached down and put his hand over the liquid. He was surprised to find that the air was cool. Shouldn’t it be burning hot? He frowned as he studied the glow. Flanagan would love to have something like this. He tinkered with stuff in his off time. Everyone knew that. This would be something he would be glad to have under a microscope to see if he could make more of whatever it was. Saxon thought maybe he could store the liquid in his canteen if he could find the metal flask in the remains of his camp. He went to straighten up so he could look for his canteen. He overbalanced and touched the liquid with his hand. He yanked his hand away as pain shot up through his arm. He spasmed on the ground as he tried to get the fire running up his arm under control. That was stupid. That was incredibly stupid. Saxon lay on the ground looking at the moonlight. The pain receded until he could think. He shook his head. He had to get back in the game and survive to tell people how he had been so stupid and clumsy. It might even get a big laugh out of his audience. He sat up and looked down at his hand to see how much damage the liquid had done to it. Three squares of black lines over a circle formed a tattoo on his palm. He frowned. What was that? He looked inside the crater. The liquid was gone. He shook his head. How was he going to prove what he saw now other than the still burning fires? He touched the squares with the index finger of his other hand. They lit up at the touch. He thought they felt warm too, but not excessively so. He pressed the circle. The tattoo turned into a circle with a line at the top. The line started moving counterclockwise along the circle. Saxon felt lighter. He looked down. He floated off the ground. He concentrated to keep from screaming. He spread his arms and spun around. He could feel jets of air at his back. He needed a mirror. His car had a sideview mirror. He could walk down and check out his back in the sideview. A red arrow appeared in his head. He realized the arrow indicated where his car sat in the lot at the edge of the camping ground. He took a step and he vaulted in the air. He closed his eyes as the jets on his back pushed him high over the trees. He spotted the small mountain rising to the north as he headed at a tangent away from his car. He twisted to turn his back toward the car. The jets obliged and he rocketed toward the paved lot. He was flying and he had it under control. Did he tell his boss about this? What would Flanagan do? He decided he needed to test it to see what else he could do. He didn’t know how long he could fly, if there was a visible effect, or how to use it beyond his own transportation. He spotted his car from the air, and realized his vision was much better while he was flying. He smiled. Now all he had to do was land beside the car, get the fire extinguisher, fly back to the camp site, and put out the fire. Then he could worry about the limits on his new ability. He brought himself up next to the driver’s door of the car. He shifted until he could get partial looks at both sides of his back in the driver’s mirror. He frowned at the two jets of air moving along his shirt. That was going to be hard to hide when he went back to work. Maybe he could explain things to Flanagan so he could find something else to do instead of flying around the factory. He would have to demonstrate the ability at the very least. That meant a flight back to New York. How did he get on a plane with two jets of force pushing against everything behind and below him? He decided he was worrying too much about something he needed to plan for and not enough about what was going on at his camp site. He floated to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out the extinguisher and closed the trunk. He needed to get back to his camp site. A red arrow appeared in the sky to mark where he had to go. He felt the jets kick on to lift him in the air. He angled toward the arrow while pulling the pin on the sprayer. He circled over the camp site for a few seconds before taking aim with the red metal sprayer and spraying foam everywhere. He concentrated his actions on the trees and worked in to the crater. He floated over the last fire for the seconds it took to put it out. He dropped the canister when he was done. He looked over the destroyed camping gear. He was better off just burying it in the ground and buying new stuff. Even his cooler had been turned into shrapnel and the steaks inside were feeding the local wildlife that hadn’t run from the impact, and following wave of air. What did he do about it now? He didn’t have an entrenching tool to work with in his car. He would have to get a shovel come back and bury his wrecked gear. He didn’t think any store would be open at the moment. He would have to do it tomorrow. What did he do for the rest of the night? The jets cut off and he dropped to the ground. He looked at his hand. The three squares and circle were back. He realized the circle and line was a countdown clock. That governed how long his power was active. So he didn’t have to worry about flying and losing the power in the air. He could just look at his hand and it would tell him when the power was going to cut off and dump him to the ground. He felt his palm. It was cold to the touch. He frowned as he thought about that.

Forsyth started climbing even though most businesses are still locked down. Reached the four hundred mark. I don't remember what the number was statewide, but it's climbing too CES

This is my draft so far. Volcanis, God of Nature. Geography. Sentient Life. Lemur Legionnaires. Gift to Civilization: Flora. Interference: The Integral Tree that binds all together Mythic Monster or Guardian. Secondary Domain. Weather Secondary Domain. Oceans Secondary Domain. Volcanism I think I am going to give my gift to civilization which is instant messaging. If you know the name of someone and say it into the wind, or throw a bottle with a message into the ocean, you can talk to that person long distance if he answers the call. I think I can do this under weather and ocean control. CES

As the god of nature, I didn't specify about agriculture. Dang it. CES

As the Integral Tree grew through the world, Vulcanis knew it would need people to defend it from villains trying to use it to reach other rings of the world. So he placed his sentient race there to help those that needed it, and push off those who wanted to cut the tree apart. He created his Lemur Legionnaires to be that force for good. CES

Old Stone is a statue that has come to life and decided to walk the world. His knowledge is dependent on how much rock he has surrounded himself with CES

Anwar Mustafa came into possession of a magical weapon that allowed him to cut spirits and spells that attacked him. He was recruited for this weapon. In a battle at the tail end of his career, the weapon was taken from him and he was killed. CES

The paper is saying Burr's brother in law sold off his stock too before the corona virus hit the market. CES

Sure. CES

I think I have one more secondary domain left to pick. I think I am going to pick volcanism. Sometimes pieces of the world break off and drop down on a lower ring to expand the look. Sometimes a tidal wave happens. People put this down to the world spinning and plates hitting each other at the wrong time. Otherwise it would mean the God of the land, Oceans, and Weather, and Volcanos was wiping out portions of people and monsters he didn't like CES

Sniped sort of. I was going to put in squirrels. I have to think about it now CES

I'm going to take oceans as my second secondary domain CES

Meet Yourself 2000- Stephen Scry sat at a table in the middle of a saloon in some little town in the Nevada desert. He looked at the glass of water in front of him. What was he doing here? He should have just worked on trying to get his life back together instead of agreeing to this. He smiled at his cowardice. He didn’t have a life. The other Scry had stolen it from him. He couldn’t even hold a job in some mundane profession. As soon as his paperwork went to the government, someone showed up to try to kill him. They had hounded him across the world. He would still be on the run if he hadn’t run into an old friend. No one had believed him about having his life stolen. A spell had been carved to keep him from just stepping back in his place. His friend had known what had happened with one look at his disheveled appearance. A promise of help had been given. Scry knew he was doing the most dangerous part on his own. His friend didn’t like to take a hand in things except as an enabler. Actively fighting would be out of the question unless pushed into it. That would take a lot of pushing in Scry’s opinion. So he sat at his table and waited. It wouldn’t be long. His friend had sent word to his double where he could be found. He was on his way. Scry smoothed his too long hair back. He used to like haircuts. Now his hair had taken on the appearance of Einstein’s without the gray. He felt it starting to stick up again as soon as he lowered his hand. His friend came into the saloon and nodded as he passed. He puffed on a cigar as he headed for the bar. He wouldn’t be much help unless directly pressed but he was there in the bar offering moral support. His presence might be enough to give Scry a chance at grabbing the upper hand if he had to fight a duel with his double. He hoped his friend’s friend arrived before the other Scry did. He would know for sure if the cause was hopeless. He could leave and go somewhere else if it was. Lights played over the front windows. His double was there. More lights pulled up. His double had brought help like they suspected. He frowned. How many would he be facing? He took a deep breath. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had to deal with what was there, not what he wished would be there. He sipped his water and let it flow through him. The ice had melted a long time ago and the liquid was room temperature. That didn’t matter. He needed something to keep him focused on the task at hand. A sip of water was enough to keep him from fleeing out the back of the saloon as fast as possible. The other Scry walked into the saloon. He wore his dark suit well. Someone had trimmed his hair down. He looked around the room as he marched toward the table. He stood, looking down at the original Scry. “So we finally meet,” he said. The voice wasn’t quite the same, but he was close enough to fool people who didn’t know the original all that well. I should have made more friends. Scry waved for the other sit down across from him. They might as well talk without resorting to violence. This parley wasn’t going to last that long. The goons stated that much to him. “We have gone to a lot of trouble, but yet here you are,” said the double. He sat down after surveying the chair. “It will be a pleasure to get rid of you after all this time.” “You’re not what I expected,” said Scry. “I thought you would come alone.” “Why would I do that?,” asked the double. “My organization has you as a front. I can’t allow you to escape to complicate things.” “So you’re going to kill me and everyone in the bar?,” said Scry. He waved at the patrons taking an interest in their conversation and the goons standing in front of the front door to stop any escapees. “I don’t see why not,” said the double. He smiled. His teeth were better than Scry’s. “Everyone has to die sometime.” “I guess that’s true,” said Scry. He picked up his glass and sipped some more water. “But you won’t leave here alive. I promise you that.” “You don’t have anything in your bag of tricks that can do anything worthwhile,” said the double. “I know. I studied you before I took over.” “I have been picking up other tricks since I have been on the run,” said Scry. He took another sip of water. “That’s why I can make sure you die first. Your guys might get me, but it won’t matter to you.” “Do you really think you have a chance?,” said the Double. “It will be a pleasure to get rid of you after all this time.” “Put your money where your mouth is,” said Scry. He raised his hands so his palms pointed at his enemy. Instantly the double raised a shield to block anything that might hurt him. He didn’t expect the table to be upended and pushed on top of him. The goons raised weapons to shoot at anything that moved. They were in a place with a lot of hostile looking people where people went armed as a matter of course. And their primary target was considered dangerous. One of the patrons turned and raised his gloved hand. A wind lifted the goon on the left end of the line and threw him through the front window. The other goons decided that had to be a priority target. They could kill everyone else later. Scry smiled. His friend had come through after all. Now it was just him and his double until the other magician was taken out of the fight. He had always been on the weaker side as far as magicians went, but he had a narrow focus that could be applied in a lot of ways. That’s why he decided to blast the table from his spot behind it. The Double blocked the table with raised arms and expended energy. The top broke against the shield he summoned to protect himself. “So there’s two of you?,” said the Double. “I can kill both of you just as easily as I can kill one of you.” He concentrated and fire erupted from his chest. It expanded into two arms that kept growing as he fed more energy into the spell he was unleashing. The burning hands reached for his opponents. Scry unleashed his own spell. He knew this would happen and planned for it. He had thought it was the only way he could get the upper hand. Magical energy warped the air as glowing lines of force wrapped around one of the burning arms. The lines yanked at the embedded power, pulling it from the false Scry’s body. He fell to the floor, trying to catch his breath. Scry dumped the burning mass into the bar’s ice maker. The machine sat behind the bar with the lid open. Ice fell out of the side so the bartender could scoop it up and put it in glasses for drinks. Heat and ice created a steam cloud screaming in pain as it rushed to the ceiling. The sound faded as the hot fog vaporized on the air. The Double tried to get back to his feet. Part of the enchantment he had agreed to bear was gone. He looked up at the real Stephen Scry. The other man slapped the small fire on his coat sleeve to put it out. He could still cement his identity theft if he could kill the real man before he was pushed out in the night. Scry raised his hands. His enemy did the same. They looked like two martial artists readying for a brawl. Whomever got off the more powerful cut would win the day. Then Scry’s friend of a friend would have to deal with what happened after that. The two magicians triggered their spells and let the energy rush at each other. The Son of Set employed a summons for a blast of sand to cut through his enemy and anything else that got in the way. Scry slid out of the way of the blast, moving across the floor. Both of his hands pushed on his double’s chest. The man hit the inner wall next to the door like a speeding bullet. He collapsed to the floor and hugged his chest as he tried to will away the pain of broken bones. Scry took a moment to catch his breath and dive for cover as spells ripped the air around him. He had forgotten the Double’s backup. What was he going to do about them? The magician flipped over another table to give himself a barricade as he readied to face his enemies. He took a moment to check the odds. He frowned. The Double had brought three three man squads to the saloon. He had lost track of the nine men in the fight with the impostor. Two of the squads were down. His friend’s friend had taken them apart in the few moments he had used to fight one magician. The other magician stood in the middle of a cleared space. He adjusted his dark hat and sunglasses with a gloved hand. His coat collar was up to hide his face from view. The coat had taken a couple of hits, but he acted like it didn’t bother him. “How’s it going, Steve?,” asked the other magician. “That was a smooth move with the demon extraction. He never saw it coming before you steamrolled him.” “I’m okay,” said Scry. He didn’t move from behind his table. “How do you want to handle the rest of this?” “You heard the man, guys,” said the other magician. “How do you want this to go? We can let you take off, or we can fight it out to the end. I’m going to have to warn you. I still have a lot of pep in my step. It might be better if you walk away and come back and get your wounded after we leave.” Scry would have left. He didn’t feel obligated to fight it out with a stronger magician. If he had a chance to flee, he would. He knew the Sons of Set wouldn’t see it that way. They liked to fight, and they had a master to serve who would look down on any cowardly behavior. It was better to try and lose than to just walk away and try again on a winning day. He readied his own attack. He didn’t want to get blasted after he had taken his duplicate. He looked at the odds. They told him that his helper would have to take every attack from the three mooks. He wasn’t on the radar. He was fine with that. The air took on the smell of lightning. They were going for it. He closed his eyes and looked for the proper moment to attack where he could do the most damage. The three minions pointed twisted wooden rods at the other magician. Fire leaped from serpent heads carved in the ends. The streams hit a bigger blast going the other way and ripped up the walls. Then the spell took the squad in its embrace. They hit the window and door. Scry wondered if they bounced when they hit the gravel lot in front of the saloon. He stood and approached his impostor. The man groaned from the pain he was in. Apparently he had never learned to heal himself. That was a failure of forethought. “When you go back to your master,” said Scry. “You’ll have to use your own face. I’m taking mine back.” Scry raised his hands. He let the energy flow, pulling everything he wanted out of his enemy. He felt strength flowing into him as he took back his name. The world reverted back to the way it should be where he didn’t have to run, and no one believed him. His clothes became cleaner and stronger as he shed his years of exile. “I hope you like returning to your old life,” said Scry. “I’m sure going to like returning to mine.” Scry looked outside. The patrons from the saloon stood outside. Some of them looked flabbergasted at the pyrotechnics thrown around. He couldn’t blame them. “You okay, Steve?,” asked the other magician. “Yes,” said Scry. He had been on the run for five years. It felt good to take something back from his enemies. “Thanks for helping out. I know it’s dangerous crossing the Sons. I appreciate what you did.” “Amenophis and I are old enemies,” said the other magician. “I’m just repaying my own debts. If you need any more help, just ask for Memphis. Someone will let you know where I can be found.” Memphis touched the brim of his hat before he started off down the road. A wind covered him with dust and he was gone when it settled down.

I am going to take weather as my secondary domain CES