Interlude: Blade (Blade's Player, Start Here)   Posted by Watcher (Conan).Group: 0
Watcher (Conan)
Mon 30 Jun 2014
at 22:34
Interlude: Blade (Blade's Player, Start Here)
The present (Five years before current Marvel continuity)...

The private-investigation firm of King, Drake and Blade (also called Borderline Investigations, depending on which of its three headstrong owners answered the phone) never went looking for the weird stuff. It wasn't something they'd sought. It hadn't been since Doctor Strange had cast the Montesi Formula spell that destroyed all the vampires on Earth, leaving only Blade-- the "Daywalker," neither vampire nor human-- with vampiric powers. Hannibal King, who had been a vampire before the same magic had cured him, was especially eager to live this new chapter in his life as normally as possible. In the end, the three investigators had become the most successful vampire hunters in history, but with no more vampires to hunt, maybe they could finally forge their own destinies. Maybe wives and kids and two-car garages and all that, right?

Sadly for Hannibal, as long as the agency had existed, the weird stuff had found them. They had busted pushers selling stockpiled vampire blood as a steroid in South Boston, stopped the ghosts of Salem Witch Trial victims from terrorizing a Harvard professor, made sure the leaders of the Starry Wisdom Cult in Essex County had gone to jail for tax evasion and kidnapping, and banished a tentacled horror attacking boats in the Mystic River. Following a cheating husband or photographing a blackmail money drop was a rare treat.

It was supposed to be normal stuff that brought Blade and Hannibal to Citrusville, Florida. A deadbeat dad, claiming his business had folded leaving him with no income, was still impressing would-be clients for his import/export business by flying them over the Everglades and Miami Beach in his Lear Jet. So the two had left their partner Frank Drake home with the client (who he may or may not have been dating). After all, the only this case required now was a quick trip south for evidence. Hannibal had figured there'd probably be time for him to enjoy the sun for a day or so.

"I'm supposed to be drinking scorpion bowls right now," Hannibal King told Blade over his walkie-talkie, as he trudged knee deep through the deep swamp. "Fruity alcohol. In bowls. With straws. And umbrellas."

He decided the static that came back was Blade purposefully ignoring him.

It was when they heard one of their target's prospective clients talk about the page from Dracula's spellbook that Hannibal saw his beach-time vanish. Over a hidden microphone, they'd heard a guy named Rico say he'd smuggled the antique parchment into the U.S. for a very wealthy collector. This Rico was a moron, but he seemed to have a good memory. When they heard him mention "some curse" that the page was supposed to describe, and recall that the mysterious woman he'd sold it to had referred to "The Thieving Hands of Endless Night," Hannibal had seen the look on Blade's face, as if he knew exactly what page the smuggler was talking about.

He did know it, in fact he had touched it with his own hands. In one of the last battles with Dracula before the Montesi Formula, Blade had obtained this page. He had entrusted it to a rare book dealer in London who used his attic as a safehouse for vampire hunters. But apparently, it had left the bookhound's possession. The curse, he was told, could unleash vampirism upon the world once again.

"I know you hear me, pal," Hannibal continued. "I get that this is unfinished business for you, but all we did was spook this guy and send him running into the 'Glades. Couldn't we have picked him up later, maybe someplace with a more pleasant smell? These fishing boots are--"

The detective managed not to drop his radio as the giant, mossy figure rose from the swamp to loom over him. He tried to keep his emotions in check and control his fear. After all, Hannibal knew enough to remember the old warning: that which knew fear burned at the touch of the Man-Thing...

* * * * *

Rico Pajarillo thought he heard the crackle of a radio in the distance as he hid in the swampy fishing shack. He knew he was being followed, had known it when he got off the private jet at the tiny airstrip in Citrusville, had known it when he'd rented that fan-boat and took off into the deep swamp, and now that he'd ditched the boat he was sure of it. Years of international smuggling had taught him to trust his instincts.

An old oil lamp had been lit when he crept in. Rico wanted to snuff it out, but was afraid the light going out would telegraph that he was here. So he left it burning, and settled into the darkest corner he could find facing the door. No walls in here, just one big wet room. He had no idea where the owners where, or why they'd left their lamp going, but right now he didn't have the luxury of caring.

It had to do with that spooky lady, he knew. The spooky but alluring woman and the page from an old book he'd smuggled into the U.S. for her. Rico also knew he shouldn't have asked questions, and more importantly, that he shouldn't have told anyone. He'd had too many drinks on that stupid plane this afternoon, he'd wanted to sound cool to impress a girl, what a fool he'd been.

He told himself he wasn't afraid, even as he told his hands to stop shaking. All this sweat was from the heat and humidity, he decided, that's all. Whoever was following, he had a feeling it wasn't the cops. And even if they were, they wouldn't take him alive.

Rico clicked off the safety on his revolver. If push came to shove, he'd rather die than go back to jail, but he would rather whoever was following him died instead.

* * * * *

The smuggler was in the shack across from the crumbling dock. Probably armed, probably scared enough to do just about anything. The stilts on which the shack was built kept it perched over the water, but next to the shack was a fairly dry patch of land, stretching at least 30 yards behind it. Sneaking up to the wooden structure would be child's play.

There was only one thing delaying what would happen next. A few paces back, there had been a palpable sensation, like goose bumps, little hairs standing on end, some kind of invisible force washing over. Depending on how the next few minutes went, things could get very, very complicated.

From past experience, Blade knew he had just entered the Nexus of All Realities.

(OOC: Blade, the smuggler with information on the missing page from Dracula's spellbook is holed up just inside the edges of what you know to be the Man-Thing's domain. You shut off your walkie-talkie a minute or so ago to keep your quarry from hearing your approach, but your partner Hannibal is out here somewhere in this swamp as well. What would you like to do?)

Status Block:
Blade     1 PP, --- PS, --- MS, --- ES, No Assets or Complications

Doom Pool:  d10,d8,3d6

Scene Distinctions: Nexus of All Realities, Humid Swamp, Rickety Wood Structures
UP NEXT: Blade

This message was last edited by the GM at 03:16, Tue 01 July 2014.

 GM, 4 posts
Thu 10 Jul 2014
at 14:25
Re: Interlude: Blade (Blade's Player, Start Here)
Furrowing his brow, Blade slowly made his way across the dock towards the shack ahead of him. Blade couldn't exactly say he was surprised that his target had ended up in, the Nexus of Realities, the domain of the Man-Thing. After all, trouble either always seemed to follow he and his associates or they tended to walk right into it. Frankly, it was starting to get real old. Blade kept his senses sharp. After all, you don't know what could pop out of the Nexus...or where you could end up.

King was back out in the swamp. Blade wasn't too concerned about him. King wasn't exactly helpless when dealing with the unknown, the mystical, and the strange. Getting this slimeball Rico to give up the location of the parchment was the priority here. And the sooner that was accomplished, the better. Blade was not gonna to let vampirism loose upon the world again. He was not gonna let lives be lost and tainted forever. Not on his watch.

Blade finally reached the shack. He pressed his hand against the door, gently, to check if it was locked...

Blade     1 PP, --- PS, --- MS, --- ES, No Assets or Complications

Doom Pool:  d10,d8,3d6

Scene Distinctions: Nexus of All Realities, Humid Swamp, Rickety Wood Structures

OOC: Alright, no more delays from me! Let's get this thing started.

UP NEXT: Watcher

Watcher (Conan)
Tue 15 Jul 2014
at 01:31
Re: Interlude: Blade (Blade's Player, Start Here)
Blade made no noise as he pushed open the door and stepped into the shack. But what he saw still took him by surprise.

Rico was restrained by glowing bonds. What looked like an iron clamp was over his mouth, and red shackles clasped his hands. He looked as if he was trying to speak, but couldn't.

Across the room, outside the light of the oil lamp in a shadowy corner, stood a man Blade recognized as the mage he had helped banish vampires from the world: Doctor Stephen Strange.

"Hello, Blade," the sorcerer said. "Before you ask, I should quote Mark Twain, and say the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."

Rico writhed as violently as he could in the magical restraints, but barely moved. The sorcerer narrowed his eyes at him.

"Not sure what you wanted with this unimaginative thug. He actually believed he could threaten you with his pistol. But whatever it is you sought from him must wait. I have something I must show you, a vision of cataclysmic import. Will you allow me to grant you a vision of your future-- a future which you and I must prevent at all costs?"

(OOC: Blade, he wants to cast a spell that will cause you to see something in another time. Do you allow it? If you wish to resist, you must roll against the doom pool.)

Status Block:
Blade     1 PP, --- PS, --- MS, --- ES, No Assets or Complications

Doom Pool:  d10,d8,3d6

Scene Distinctions: Nexus of All Realities, Humid Swamp, Rickety Wood Structures
UP NEXT: Blade

This message was last edited by the GM at 07:57, Tue 15 July 2014.

 GM, 5 posts
Mon 21 Jul 2014
at 16:40
Re: Interlude: Blade (Blade's Player, Start Here)
Blade narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer in return. "Strange," he greeted bluntly. He wasn't exactly happy to see Earth's Sorcerer Supreme standing before him, despite him being an ally in the past. Somehow, whenever Strange happened to show up, a bad situation was about to get worse. A lot worse.

"That little punk went and sold the one thing that can inflict vampirism upon the world again. Undo all the good you did with the Montesi Formula And you want me to stop and listen to some vision of the future?" Blade questioned. He paused for am moment, thinking the Doctor's offer over. If it was really something big, then he might have to handle it sooner or later. Hell, it might even have something to do with the parchment. If it, didn't might have to get in line. Dedicated as Blade was to stopping supernatural threats, he could only handle one apocalypse at a time.

"If it really is important, then go ahead," Blade muttered, nodding at Strange. "But this better not take long."

Watcher (Conan)
Tue 22 Jul 2014
at 19:32
Re: Interlude: Blade (Blade's Player, Start Here)
"The Thieving Hands of Endless Night have already been unleashed in this time. But we have time to stop the curse before it spreads. That is why I have come to you. I can show you your own future, something I cannot see. This is a spell I cannot use on just anyone, not even me. For you shall look through the eyes of your future self. It is your presence in the Nexus of All Realities that shall make this possible, for its connections cross other versions of itself in time as well as space. Unfortunately, of all those I trust to help prevent this problem... You are the only one who lives to see the future I would show you. Or at least, you are the only who survives without being corrupted..."

The sorcerer reached towards Blade's forehead. He did not touch it, but Blade felt an impact nonetheless. The already dim confines of the shack seemed to grow darker.

"As far the 'little punk' goes, no matter how long your vision of the future, no time will pass here. He will be waiting only a few seconds for you to return, and treat him with your no doubt tender ministrations. Torture him to your heart's content, only he can put us on the trail of the curse itself, though we have some clues. But what you are about to see should tell us even more... "

The world around Blade vanished, and he heard no more from the sorcerer.

Instead, he found himself in a wooded place. Somewhere in the American West, by the foliage and terrain, likely Southern California or Northern Mexico. The mountains nearby were familiar. Around him, a bizarre landscape mixing ancient Egypt and advanced technology protruded from the thick vegetation. It looked like something off the cover of a science fiction novel. Blade began to wonder just how far into the future he'd been sent.

He was crouched near the top of a Ridge, as if to hide. On the other side was the sound of battle. Superhumans going at it, it sounded like. This was the kind of thing Blade generally preferred to avoid-- better the demons of hell feuding than the costumed crew throwing down against each other.

He wasn't alone.

The pale white girl in an even whiter get-up was called Dagger, he recalled. A mutant street kid or something. She looked a few years older, but not much, maybe five. Had the world changed so much in such a short time? Blade himself didn't feel much different, but of course,  he didn't age.

The girl's light powers made her a good ally against vampires, he recalled from their brief interactions, as did her faithful Catholicism and fondness for crosses. She usually ran with a guy called Cloak, but Blade saw no sign of him. She seemed to have been asking him something.

"It doesn't sound like Kitty and Karolina caught them by surprise like they said they would," she whispered, as if they were afraid of being heard. "It sounds like they're losing, badly, out there. We have to do something... Do we call the others and hope they make it in time, or do we step in now try to help them ourselves? It's your call, Blade. That's the queen of demons and the princess of vampires out there, together, they won't show any mercy-- We can't just let our friends die, can we?"

She was expecting an answer. This wasn't just a vision, obviously-- Blade was an active participant in these events, even though he had little idea of where he was or what was going on. And on the other side of the ridge, it sounded like someone was about to get their clock cleaned.

NEXT UP: Blade