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Post by mcr on Dec 19, 2020 10:33:30 GMT -5
In a small cabin in upstate New York, a small black and white television crackles with static as the frequency seems to change almost by itself. The voice of an unseen narrator reassures his audience, with suspenseful music playing lightly in the background:
"Do not attempt to adjust the picture."
The narrator continues as the picture fades in and out.
"For the next hour we will control all that you see and hear. We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your television set."
But even as he speaks, the unseen force tunes the television, the image and sound bending and distorting. It eventually rewinds itself, replaying over and over, before the television abruptly cuts off.
A soft voice in the cabin mutters:
"Wait. Go back. Go back. Wait. Go back."
The voice is suddenly replaced by the image of a ticking clock and the hopeful and excited voice of Christopher Lloyd:
As the scene plays out, Doc Brown proclaims:
"Roads?! Where we're going, we don't need roads."
As the DeLorean rises and hovers into the air, crashing through Time itself, the television briefly rises off the ground, before dropping suddenly.
The tapping of the television's small legs against the hard wooden floor as it teeters back and forth echoes throughout the room. An unseen watcher looks upon it, almost mesmerized:
"Back. And forth. Back. And forth."
The voice mutters.
A small, antique clock sitting above the television winds itself backwards, the hands spinning slower and slower as it does, before stopping. As they begin to try moving again, the hands seem to hit some kind of resistance, ticking almost like a beating heart, as if someone is holding the hands in place.
The image on the television freezes as the ticking sound continues to echo. The watcher thumbs a small locket, holding the gold heart in their hand as they thumb over the image of the couple depicted inside. As they do, the television begins playing a melancholy scene.
"It was beauty killed the Beast."
The watcher wipes their tears from the locket as the television adjusts itself again.
"Life finds a way."
A whistling tea pot pierces the stillness of the air. The mood in the room shifts suddenly, replaced by a stray thought, almost like a bursting bubble rises and pops before disappearing. The television set briefly flickers, as if searching for something.
The adventurous music is replaced by a robotic voice:
"SHALL WE PLAY A GAME?"
A young Matthew Broderick responds:
"Love to. How about Global Thermonuclear War?"
"WOULDN'T YOU PREFER A GOOD GAME OF CHESS?"
By now, the air around the television set is almost jumping with electricity.
The watcher responds to the television:
"A game would be lovely."
The image on the set settles in on a young Max von Sydow sitting over a chess set:
As Death and the Knight begin their game, the image settles...... =================================================================== Meanwhile...
A bony, gaunt figure silently beckons to the young knight with a single finger, pointing wordlessly at the two boards before her, two chess sets in opposite positions, but one red and white and the other red and black. The square jawed figure likewise said nothing, but idly clutches the sword at his side, pausing to determine which of the two is meant for him, and cautiously picks up the white pieces.
Death finally speaks:
"Let's play."
The game is about to begin. =================================================================
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Post by mcr on Dec 19, 2020 11:12:46 GMT -5
Azazel Dragos Elizabeth Braddock Dr. Henry McCoy Katherine Pryde and Pete Wisdom stand anxiously in line, in what feels to them like a space that is at once impossibly large and yet enclosed. Their eyes are covered by a thick black cloth wrapped tightly behind them, though they are otherwise unrestrained. For those with enhanced senses, nervous muted giggling and idle chitchat is hushed by stern whispers. A ringing sound, clear as a bell, tinkles, the sound of metal striking glass. A booming voice hushes the crowd. "Honored companions!" The room grows silent. "Honored companions!" The man continues: "We thank you for joining us today to welcome our newest Brothers and Sisters to the Hellfire Club!" The silence is broken by raucous cheering and applauding before the room is silenced again. "May I present: Lady Elizabeth Braddock." As he says her name, a servant steps behind her, to remove her blindfold. "Count Azazel Dragos." Again a servant undoes his blindfold, moving down the line as the speaker continues: "Doctor Henry McCoy." "Miss Katherine Pryde." "And Mr. Peter Wisdom." With the last of their blindfolds removed, the guests can now appreciate the large ballroom they occupy, ornate crystal and glass carvings hanging opulently from the ceiling, the whole room bedecked in gold and jewels, priceless antiques housed in large display cases. The party guests are now all clapping and cheering, everyone dressed in their finest attire, save for some of the guests wearing stylish black masks covering their eyes or face. The man bows deeply: "My Lady, Count Dragos, guests, I apologize for the theatrics. Unfortunately, our host could not join us this evening. I am tonight's Master of Ceremonies, if you will. Mr. Sebastian Shaw, at your service." "Welcome to Essex Manor." Bowing to Elizabeth, he briefly adds: "My Lady, welcome home." Turning to the others, he adds: "Welcome to the Hellfire Club."
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Post by OurLadyWar on Dec 19, 2020 20:36:41 GMT -5
Clinking crystal, polished laughter and small talk, heels and shined shoes on marble. Elizabeth Braddock may not have possessed all the heightened senses of her fellow "guests", but she had been to enough parties to know when she was in one. Even if she was blindfolded.
The bright ballrooom was excessively radiant once the blindfold was removed and the cheering guests were more like a homecoming chorus. Once her sight had adjusted, she could finally look down the line at the others who had been ushered into the club, as well as their substitute host.
"Mr. Shaw," she acknowledged in that perfected and practiced purr, but she trailed off as he turned away, speaking more to herself: "It's good to be back," she murmured as her violet gaze flit around the ballroom, remembering a life long lost to ashes. Now, this was not her manor, that had burned to cinders and memories over a year ago, but being back in Essex did bring some rueful, giddy nostalgia and that hollowed sense of loss.
The midnight blue dress gilded in gold petals presented an ethereal silhouette down a deceptively agile frame. Her violet hair was swept away from her shoulders and neck, graced by long golden earrings alone. There was something forgotten and remembered all at once, a young ghost wise beyond her years. The Lady of Braddock Manor was back, indeed.
"Perhaps a toast in order," she said, gracefully miming a lifted champagne flute.
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Post by Gris on Dec 20, 2020 9:45:23 GMT -5
What did she get into? Was it as mistake? No, she couldn't doubt herself, it was too late for that. If things were south, there was no way they could restrain her. "Breathe, bet that you made the right choice" Kate assured, her voice sounding as motherly as she could, even if the nervousness was understandable. "I'm fine, I'm fine" Pryde answered. "This is were I need to be, any difficulty is just growing pains" added. It wasn't an easy task trying to lie to an old version of herself. Kate didn't just know her as well as anyone ever could, she was also living rent free in her head.
Any kind of doubts or fears about walking into a trap were soon dissipated, as losing the blindfold made Pryde blink into the party's dazzling ambiance. During her crusade she managed to easily land herself quite some money, maybe more than her righteous pretext needed, so she had access to any wardrobe she may need. Despite that, Pryde had to stifle a groan when she saw what company she shared. The male company barely didn't register, not at first, no matter how flashy or unconventional their outlook was.
There like it was nothing, just out of the fashion magazines Kate had scoured through in search of what to buy, Elizabeth Braddock was dressed in the midnight itself.
"You're gawking" Kate warned in her head, admonition with a smirking tone. At least she had opted for a wholly different ensemble, so comparing her to a runway model wouldn't be as easy. Fortunately Pryde wasn't as small as on her teen years, and the almost military garb she was wearing certainly made an statement of its own. A long red jacket with golden military accents gave her movements flow, a decidedly masculine white blouse and black trousers made clear that she was no ornament to hang from one's arm, but a force to be reckoned with.
Maybe her choices had been ill informed, as even as gorgeous as Braddock was, there was something in how she moved that made clear she wasn't just eye candy. Either way, it was obvious she was someone that wouldn't hurt to have close, even if it wasn't like she could go around trusting anyone that looked pretty.
"What do we toast for?" Pryde wondered out loud, grabbing a drink of her own, a rocks glass with scotch.
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Post by UrbanBlue on Dec 20, 2020 12:11:16 GMT -5
Hank McCoy stood back from the others, his ginger ale sipped at occasionally. He'd rather be in his lab right now, working on the next generation of his experiments, but he had to admit that the shindig had it's own appeal. He hoped that gaining greater status would lead to greater opportunities, and looking around, decided that to his more discerning gaze, the others here weren't lousy to look at.
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Post by Black Sam on Dec 20, 2020 21:53:01 GMT -5
Azazel offered a roguish smile to the assembled crowd once his blindfold was off. Unlike the others, he was taken aback by the sight before him – honestly, he'd half-expected to find himself in some ancient temple, with candles and cloaked figures, from the tidbits he'd learned from Raven. The other half of his expectation had been some sort of trap, but he recovered from the surprise quickly.
While his formalwear was genuine, Azazel had been wearing the glamor of a nobleman ever since creating the false identity of Count Dragoș almost a year ago, keeping his crimson flesh hidden away from all but allies and victims – Raven being his only ally to date. The fact that she had disappeared was concerning, but he was confident in his ability to win her back. They were in love. That was part of why he was here. Today he hoped he would make new allies. Still, he did not mistake this bit of pageantry for anything but a battlefield, and until he knew who might be his friend and who might be his foe, he'd keep things close to the vest, as it were. The primary focus of his life had been to perfect the art of killing, but that training also included subterfuge and social tactical exercises, so he was no stranger to the sort of maneuvering he was sure to experience tonight.
Countering all that was an unfamiliar sensation – hope? Pride? He wasn't quite certain. He'd never met another mutant before Raven Darkholme. He'd spent his whole life believing that he was the product of an unholy union. Friend or foe, these mutants were his people.
"An auspicious evening," he said to the others standing beside him. He took a glass and lifted it to them. "To us, and to the future."
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Post by mcr on Dec 21, 2020 21:54:39 GMT -5
As Shaw finishes his introduction, the cohort of party goers gradually retreat to various parts of the manor house, mingling amongst themselves. A few stop by to welcome the new arrivals, but none stay for more than a parting word here or there. A flurry of servants and wait staff zip about the room, shuttling drinks, hors d'oeuvres, used dishes, and fresh ones back and forth. Shaw likewise makes his rounds amongst the guests, shaking hands, whispering in sotto voce, patting people on the shoulder or the back when it looked like a particular deal had been struck.
Weaving his way back to the quintet, he notices that they're lingering about, perhaps unsure of themselves:
"Come now! No need to be shy, this is a celebration! Perhaps I can introduce you to the band? Just warming up and tuning their guitars in one of the powder rooms back here. They're all the rage these days. Great things in their future! Or a tour of the manor? I assure you our proprietor holds no secrets from us."
He gestures towards several short offshoots leading into other rooms, many of them with guests standing outside the door craning their necks inside to get a glimpse or listen in to whatever conversation or occasion is being had inside.
Pausing for a second, he queries:
"I know some of the more senior members of our Club, our inner circle..."
He chuckles to himself
"...are very anxious to get to know you better. Have you all gotten to know one another just yet?"
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Post by Gris on Dec 22, 2020 5:22:22 GMT -5
"To us and to the future then" Pryde echoed, unable to hide the scorn in her last words. What did they know about the future? It seemed to be invariably shit unless she did something to fix it. If that's what she was doing, and not just push it further away. A hearty gulp of her drink washed the thoughts away, even if the lack of restraint earned her a "careful" from Kate.
"I'm sure we all are itching to know what parts we seem to play" Pryde smirked. "Everyone here knows who she is" she added, tilting her head towards Elizabeth, "well, maybe not the nerd" continued with a shrug. "But being aware of her fame hardly is the same of knowing her, that's obvious. I'm guessing that the exploits of the rest of us are... or a more private nature" she eyed at the nobleman, another mystery by himself.
"Watch out on how much of the initiative you want to grasp, don't go around looking like a fool" Kate warned. Future Kate changed Kitty's life, so now they didn't share a common past. No matter how well meaning she could be, the old one was as out of her element in a lavish party as the young one. That didn't mean her wisdom wasn't of use, thought, and even if it sometimes was condescending, Pryde had learned to at least make the effort of listening.
"About me... I guess I go where I want to, so I couldn't be in any other place but this" she laughed. "Who wouldn't want to?"
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Post by Black Sam on Dec 22, 2020 9:52:19 GMT -5
Azazel smirked as Katherine Pryde spoke up. He listened to her with rapt amusement.
"Ah, the brashness of youth and potential!" he said without condescention, his slavic accent pronounced. It didn't occur to him that he appeared about half his actual age. He didn't seem to age much anymore. "I do not wish to contradict, but I, for one, do not know of the Lady Braddock. As she is in this particular company tonight, however, I would wager that none of you who thinks you know her truly knows her. That is the way of these things. Is this correct, Lady Braddock?"
"I think we have barely begun our introductions, Mr. Shaw, but I know I speak for all of us when I ask if we shall meet our true partons this evening – this Inner Circle of yours?"
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Post by OurLadyWar on Dec 22, 2020 10:53:38 GMT -5
"To us, and to the future -- cheers," she echoed, toasting with the others before pursing her lips to the champagne flute. The bubbly touched her lips, pinched from taking a full sip. Elizabeth was young, but she knew how to keep her wits about her at a party. Now, sequestered with friends and other worldly cohorts she knew well enough on tour, in her flat, or at the nearest pub... that was different. Albeit the welcome was warm enough, these were still strangers, and she wanted to keep a clear head.
If she was ruffled by being discussed as if she were a statue and not truly there and breathing -- with a heartbeat and some opinions to boot -- she did not show it. People dismissing her as some pretty or precious thing was all part of the act. Though, Azazel seemed in-tuned that there was more to this world-famous supermodel than met the eye.
To his: "Is this correct, Lady Braddock?"
She tipped the fizzy flute elegantly enough: "Some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs." The glass was transferred gracefully to her other hand as her dominant one slid expertly around Shaw's arms. "Mr. Shaw, we will make sweet strangers friends in good time, but it is a shame our host could not join us tonight." She could not speak or vouch for the others, but her curiosity was certainly peaked. Shaw seemed eager enough to please, perhaps he would tell them a little more now that he was out of ear shot of an audience.
===*=== Health 4 Energy 12
Action 1 Social Skills 4 - Charm: Give Shaw the warm fuzzies enough to indulge her.
Action 2 No Action.
Modifiers Reflexive Dodge +3
Health 4 Energy 8
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Post by phencerx on Dec 22, 2020 20:22:32 GMT -5
Peter had stayed quiet up until this moment taking everything in. He had found the Hellfire Club easily enough using some of his more unsavory contacts, but the quickness in which he was invited surprised even him. As soon as the blindfold came off, he quickly scanned the room. The shear opulence of everything was of little worth, except to know that this Club was very well funded. It was the faces he cared about. Some like Lady Braddock he naturally knew. MI-6 had suspected that some in her family carried the mutant gene, and now he was all but convinced. Count Dragos was another somewhat known variable to him. The department tends to take notice when those not just claiming a title, but have the money to back it up suddenly appear out of nowhere.
These other two though. Doctor McCoy. The name could be Scottish, but just one look told Peter that he was clearly American. And Katherine Pryde. While everyone else was in tuxedos and ballgowns, she was distinctly different. "Interesting," he thought to himself.
After the others had given their toasts, Peter reached into his overcoat to pull out his flask. He didn't know enough about these people yet to go accepting drinks willy nilly.
"Cheers mates. He raises his flask and takes a swig of the Old Tom gin inside. "I also think a tour would be smashing." Before he starts prying to much about this mysterious Club, a look around the Manor might just be the best place to start.
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Post by mcr on Dec 22, 2020 21:30:05 GMT -5
--Elsewhere-- A tall, sinister figure steps behind the armchair seated before the Television. "Isn't it beautiful? A world beyond Time? Beyond Death?" Furniture in the Cabin rearranged itself at speeds too fast for the eye to detect. Even the walls, the floors, and the ceiling began folding, twisting, cascading into impossible shapes. Colors unknown to human comprehension played like a kaleidoscope to the sound of a laugh track playing over the whimsical scenes on the screen. ============================================================ Meanwhile....... Shaw spoke: "But of course." Leading Elizabeth, Peter, and whomever was following out of the center of the ballroom, the guests can see a small raised platform towards the back, where a gawky young man is tweaking a drum set that had previously been obscured by the crowd. A much older American eyeing him suspiciously retorted at the band's logo: "The Silver Beatles! That'll never catch on!" The younger returned a shrug, and in a Northern accent simply said: "I've just joined." Shaw paused to greet them: "Senator Kelly! Thank you for joining us tonight. I trust your State Department won't cause any issues for these young men?" Kelly waved him away dismissively: "Shaw Industries has always been friends to the State of New York. We'll figure something out." Shaw returned to the group: "Great things in those lads' futures, I tell you." He led them to the foyer, where hung a massive portrait of a tall gaunt man gripping the shoulders of a much younger woman, almost holding her as one would a hostage or a prisoner. Her vacant, glassy smile was matched by his dour look and unflinching gaze peering out into the entryway almost like an immortal sentry standing watch over the halls within. The face looked eerily familiar to Elizabeth, though she could not quite place it. Shaw explained: "Nathaniel Essex, and his wife Rebecca. Commissioned just before the turn of the century. Master Essex's family have always been staunch supporters of our Club. It is thanks to their generosity that we are here tonight." Leading on, the group passes a small reading room, where a trio of young, masked blonde teenagers are speaking in an eerie, staggered unison. "Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis//Thane of Cawdor//That shalt be King hereafter", each woman beginning their lines at the same time but ending one right after the other. Shaw intoned dramatically: "The Scottish play. No, do not say its name, 'tis bad luck, even in rehearsals like theirs." He pressed his finger to his lips in a mock hushing gesture, pressing further along towards a sitting room. Making his way towards its sole occupant, Shaw daintily lifts her hand, kissing it in a chivalrous manner: Shaw lifts her gently by the hand from her seat: "My ravishing wife, Irene Adler." She rises, staring at him and the group blankly: "This is them?"
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Post by Black Sam on Dec 22, 2020 22:57:34 GMT -5
Azazel turned to the two Americans as Peter Wisdom followed Shaw and the Lady.
"Doctor, Miss Pride, I think I shall take the tour with our host," the nobleman said. "Won't you join us?"
His smile was a little too intense to put anyone at ease. With a motion of his head he indicated the escaping trio, then moved quickly to catch up.
"Comrade," he said to Wisdom, acknowledging the younger man as he matched his pace. More than Shaw's tour, Azazel was paying close attention to the places they weren't being shown. He though he might take a look later behind closed doors if he wasn't satisfied with the answers their host provided. Simultaneously, he was watching everyone around them. Always having a ready-made exit strategy was an inherent advantage with his abilities, but it never hurt to keep one's guard up in situations like this.
He set his un-sipped glass on the tray of a passing waiter.
********************
HEALTH: 4/4 ENERGY: 18/18
ACTION ONE: 3 stones into Black Ops to survey the other guests, looking for things a KGB agent would look for ACTION TWO: 3 stones into Intelligence to keep an eye out for places that are off-limits
ATTACK: none DEFENSE: 3 (RD + Prescience/Teleportation)
MODIFIERS: Enhanced Vision (see in darkness ); Healing Factor (heal 1w stone/hour ); Limited Prescience (shift stones allocated to other actions into Teleportation after other stones are revealed ); Metal Defense 4 ; Reflexive Dodge 3
HEALTH: 4/4 ENERGY: 18/18 REGENERATION: 7
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Post by Gris on Dec 23, 2020 5:15:54 GMT -5
"Why not? Curiosity won't kill me" Pryde shrugged with a smile, following behind and abandoning her drink behind to appease Kate. She could almost hear her mind buzzing, maybe since she called that guy a nerd. Something was going on, but she didn't want to distract herself with chit chat at that precise moment. Surrounded by that sophisticated and predatory European lot, she felt inadequate, an upstart compared to all that old money, but she didn't want to show it.
Old Kate was silent. She had kept a secret from her young host. It was just a bit at first, but the more she received visions of possible futures, the muddier her own memories became. Maybe it had to do with her timeline being extinct, maybe it was the lack of a physical body. It wasn't like she feared disappearing altogether, having survived into that dreadful future and her own suicide mission, all the time she had to do good was a gift. But what if she couldn't give useful information to her young self due to forgetting something? Or even worse, what if she lead her along a false path? She felt like she had once known some of those people, she just had to, but she couldn't grasp how in a way that would make her useful.
Senators, industrials and the artists that played for them, the opulence and influence was so obvious that Pryde couldn't help but smile. Leaving behind more of those creepy aristocrats it seemed that the theatrics had caught Kate's attention, as a hum echoed in her mind. "What's up? You've been awfully silent" Pryde reached. "The actresses, I knew someone fond of the play I think" she answered, doubtful. Sure of the woman she had become, Pryde retorted: "So think then, I can handle these bores"
"Something wicked this way comes" Kate completed, wary. Pryde paid no mind, she wasn't going to get herself undone by that people, but that wasn't what Kate feared.
"This is us" she said to Irene. In their eyes being American would excuse, or at least explain, her bravado, her brashness. "Pryde" she introduced herself, "Katherine only if you must, but it's too posh for me" she finished. They probably wouldn't underestimate Elizabeth for her beauty, so it was the same for her being awfully pedestrian, but there was no harm in trying.
Health: 3/3 ; Energy: 9/9 Action: Social Skills (Etiquette) 4, to act purposefully brash, but still within bounds. Health: 3/3 ; Energy: 5/9
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Post by UrbanBlue on Dec 23, 2020 10:16:43 GMT -5
"I'd be most delighted sir."
Hank moved with a distinct grace as he followed in Azazel's wake.
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