Apotheosis: Shadows of a Bright Republic (IC)

[Eru Erufu]

In a time before time, men lived as gods in the Unshattered World. A world of unbridled prosperity and eternal peace: an age when theurgy answered Man's ever whim. Even today we sing of those fallen nations of the old world. Of the Ideotribes of Kham, the Empire of All Under Heaven, and our forefathers in the Grand Republic.

An age ripe for decay. For hubris. And for his arrogance Man was struck down by God: his world shattered, his tools stripped away, and the crown jewel of Man's empire, the glories of theurgy, torn from his grasp.

A thousand years have passed since that fateful day. A millennium of strife and suffering as mere shadows of the old empires squabble like children over what few toys remain. And in this chaos, this turmoil, the people called out for salvation.

Their Creator answered.

Sing o' muse, of a time far distant. Sing of a crumbling world, and those who stand against its darkness.

Sing, o' muse, of the Godbound.

---

Apotheosis: Shadows of a Bright Republic

---

March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

Big-Nosed Tang swayed to the electronic beat as it vibrated the floor of the shoddy second-floor conference room. If it could even be called that, but Publius owed Volcania a favor, and he'd keep quiet for that favor. The free drinks were, of course, an additional bonus.

"Oi, gemenr." The Ren man lounged back in his plastic folding chair, kicking his feet up onto the table and beginning a delicate balancing act to prevent himself from toppling over. "We really got time to be palling around with some strangers? I get you got a hunch, but don't we have bigger fish to fry?"

Indeed, she did. But that was before two days ago. Before her ascension. According to Publius Tullius, the co-owner of the taverna and Volcania's contact, the Wu-Shen Clan's current boss Six-Finger Jong punched far, far above his weight class and killed the son of Republic Banking's CEO. There's a hefty, hefty bounty on his head now, and word on the street is that anyone who brings it to the RBC's main office will walk away with a fortune in credits.

"I say we just murk the guy in his skivvies. Julius says he knows a guy that-" Whatever Tang had meant to say was cut off as the door to the conference room opened.

Her Pantheon had arrived.

She had yet to meet most of them, but even as she lays eyes on them for the first time she knows they're her Pantheon. As though it's the most right thing in the world, and the Lord Himself ordained it be so. Though she supplied the venue, it was the mysterious Ad Astra who got them all in touch over the BrightNet. Even in the years she's been here, Volcania has never quite gotten the hang of technology...

---

Everyone Else

Entering the conference room proper is a much welcome relief from the smoke-choked first floor of the taverna. Wolf whistling sailors and drunken slum dwellers alike made for quite the rambunctious bunch, and those less used to such company would be picked out and heckled relentlessly.

Regardless, a few of our new Pantheonmates bring problems and situations of their own-

---

Paul Copperbell

He had been having a good day. An elusive beast known as the day off had been captured, and our good salaryman was eager to spend it at Jane's lovely little retro diner. The Sun had been shining, the doves cooing, and he could almost ignore the immense divine power coursing beneath his skin. That new aspect of his life could be explored tomorrow when he met with his Pantheon for the first time.

Of course the day had to be ruined by a strange, lavender-haired girl in a business suit. "We work for Shujumi Shipping. Do a job for us." Abruptly tossing a business card at his feet, the girl turned and ran off, jumping atop a trash can and back-flipping onto an elevated walkway.

Kids these days and their parkour...

---

Ad Astra

Astra, meanwhile, was thoroughly engrossed by the latest esoteric and niche controversy to come out of Republican academics. And it was a damn important controversy at that: an enormous dam had been discovered in the Bleak Reach. And the fallout is an academic shitstorm of legendary proportions. Careers are being ruined! Reputations destroyed! Theses invalidated! Oh the humanity!

Checking her smartphone as she rode the taxi to the meeting, Astra had gotten the straight dope on the controversy: The Federalists think it was made by the precursor to the Bright Republic, the Grand Republic, and the current Akeh denizens in the area were your typical Reacher squatters. The Democratic Republicans believes the dam to be a product of one of the many Khamite Ideotribes native to ancient Arcem, and that the current Akeh inhabitants are its descendants. Honestly, Astra was more surprised at how vitriolic the online discussions got than the discovery of the dam itself. Weren't these people the experts?

Even the (relatively well-known) podcaster Radio-Head weighed in on the debate, announcing on The Truth is Out There: "I'm telling you guys! That dam was made by unknowable horrors beyond our comprehension. They want to breed our women and steal our Etheric Nodes, and the SRD homosexuals are just letting it happen!"

A typical Radio-Head podcast.

[Mormarth]

Dorothea Ionescu
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Streets, Harbortown

It had been a particularly mundane day in the Republic's 'friendliest' city. That is to say, mundane for a physician operating in the lower districts who was particularly generous in her choice of clientele.

By which was meant anyone.

Injuries were at once both amusingly similar and curiously different from the Old Country, the telltale signs of bottle-based living, oh so common to poverty, mixed with a curious gaggle of symptoms based around the over-consumption of inhaled substances that appeared to induce hallucinations, euphoria and an 'elevated state of mind'.

She glanced upwards as she paced through the streets, squinting against the haze of humidity and those ever-burning lights the country favored.

What were they trying to get to?

The upper city didn't seem terribly like a place where a state of mind would be very welcome, judging from brief altercations with their 'law enforcement'.

Hm.

Heaven, from what she had heard, did not seem terribly hospitable either.

Being that high, she concluded, was for people who were rather stupid, or terribly sad.

In any case, dealing with it was as simple as anything else, some purgatives, a good bit of hydration and a stern lecture and they trotted out back into the world.

Honestly, she didn't see what the big deal about an 'overdose' was, anyway. She'd done a bit of sampling to examine the symptoms and they hadn't done much at all.

The benefits of clean living, a healthy lifestyle, and plenty of cabbage!

Now, she thought to herself, gazing around.

If only she could find this place mentioned in the 'message' that came to her 'cellular device'.

It had a street address and the same of the institution on it, but.

W-well.

It was jolly difficult to find the place! Everyone kept telling her to use the 'app', or application, to use a map to get there (supposedly, if you had the name or address of the location, the device could tell you exact directions to get there, very impressive), but, um...

She seemed to have forgotten the code phrase to access it.

It must have slipped her mind, she was a bit distracted with the gentleman's leg being splayed open down past the bone, haha...

Patricia just made fun of her when she asked for help!

How rude!

Just because she's got those long legs doesn't mean she can look down on her all the time!

Well, technically it does.

Maybe a certain receptionist needs an amputation, then...

She shook her head, no, no, that was bad. Even long-legged snooty Republicans like her need their primary method of locomotion, and Patricia was very grateful for the job after having been... turned out, she was just having a bit of fun.

Besides, she could definitely find the place on her own, it was only a few blocks away.

How hard could it be?
--------
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

It was actually quite hard.

She would never admit to anyone that she was finally flagged down by a young man of her acquaintance, who, after looking at her for a long moment with particularly furrowed brows that did a lot to bring out his hazel eyes, gently pointed in the right direction of the building she had been circling for longer than she would ever admit to anyone.

Ever.

All the buildings get a bit confusing, alright? She's not used to more than ten in a row, and especially not all packed together in a manner that makes her head swim with all the lights.

Hmph.

Well, in any case, she'd found the tavern where they were supposed to meet, apparently, there was a room reserved for privacy that was supposed to pay host to their 'merry band', or something.

Perhaps one of them had heard of Him.

Entering gracefully into the raucous alehouse (taking a brief moment to negotiate the entrance of her erstwhile passenger through the doorway), she was greeted at first by a very gratifying parade of wolf-whistles and admiring (if crude) comments, then followed by a more moderated chorus of appreciative commendations and queries for advice, and even a few halting appointment requests.

She gently dissuaded them, as she was not here on business, and Miss Patricia would be most cross if she was to run about making a whole mess of appointments without bothering to schedule or organize them in any way shape or form.

It was certainly very busy those weeks before she had welcomed her into her office.

Now she could actually sleep for a few hours! Very nice, even if Patricia still got all frowny if she worked too hard.

What would the rest of those like her (a Pantheon, the person called it, she recalled), be like? From here, the Republic, or abroad, like herself? How had they gotten their gift, what were they planning on doing with it? Did any of them smell of poppy?

That would be pretty awkward.

She reached the top of the stairs and moved toward what she presumed was probably a meeting room.

Nothing else to it, she supposed, fussing lightly with her hair and brushing a hand over the small, red bear ornament.

Hopefully it wouldn't be considered rude to walk into a meeting with a weapon on your back.

Republicans were strange that way.

Honestly, who ever heard of going anywhere unarmed?

Pushing abruptly through the door, she blinked slowly, gathering her coat around herself.

"Ah, good evening," She paused.

Did she dare?

"..."

"I do hope I am not late."

Honesty is always a good policy!

[Elyrin]

Gabrielle Monet
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Finally, finally, it was time for Gabrielle to meet the rest of the team. She'd been so excited when she got the news. So excited she couldn't even sleep the night before! Fortunately the sleep deprivation didn't seem to be affecting her, so all was good.

At first, the girl had thought it would be just her, doing her best to dispense justice all on her own. Not a bad fate to have, by any means, but it would be so much more efficient with a group.

So much so, she was a little concerned after her excitement wore off. Like, wasn't this a bit too good to he true? What if it was some sort of trap? Or worse, some kind of MLM scam? Scary thoughts. Still, after some consideration, she decided to show up. Even if it was some sort of pyramid scheme, they couldn't force her to join if she didn't sign anything. And if it was a trap, and they stabbed her or something, she could just leave. Getting stabbed a couple times wasn't a huge deal.

And so, she was here! Along with everyone else, she assumed. Gabby wasn't super familiar with Harbortown, so she got a taxi over, tried not to bounce in her seat too much, and arrived slightly early. Now she was finally beholding this 'Pantheon' for the first time, and some instinct, some... revelation told her that yes, it was real, and definitely not an MLM thing.

"I do hope I am not late."

Someone else was the first to speak while Gabby was taking it all in. A bit concerned, maybe overly concerned. Well, Gabby knew just what to do about that!

"Oh, you shouldn't be so worried!" Gabrielle laughed a bit in response. The friendly kind of laugh, inviting the other person to laugh with you. Not, like, a 'hah, look at the awkward nerd!' laugh. "This is a fated meeting! We didn't set the time beforehand. The time begins when we're all here!"

After her confident opening statement, Gabby faltered a bit as she tried to add a followup. Her smile turned down ever so slightly as she looked around the room, examining the people already waiting or just filtering in. Her eyes bring drawn to a certain few in particular.

"So, uh, we are all here now, right? Or is someone still on the way?"

Let's see. What have we got...

One, uh, guy. Random-ass office worker probably. Looked like a Larry more than a legendary demigod hero.

The nerdy-looking lady who had spoken first. Seemed a bit out of place, wearing a white coat and gigantic glasses. Definitely a nerd. Maybe a scientist or something.

A girl with rainbow hair, tapping at her phone. Maybe also a nerd. How did she get her hair like that, though? Gabby dyed hers, but this girl was ridiculous. It couldn't be natural, could it...?

Another guy, blonde. If anybody in the group looked the part of a classic hero, it was him. Not this assortment of office workers, nerds, and random girls with dyed hair.

That last one, though. Damn. The redhead lady looked like her abs had abs. Don't say anything weird, Gabby, keep your eyes on her face. Or on Larry. No need to worry about getting distracted there.

[BladeOfEden]

Markus Braun
March 11, 1000 AS
Streets, Harbortown

The big city was significantly more hostile than the villagers had led the young man to believe.

No birds could be heard over the sounds of the city-folk’s fancy machines. The entire place smelled funny, so much so that he would begin to feel sick if he spent too much time outside. There were so many big, shiny buildings, but there were also plenty of run-down shacks he had seen some scary-looking people hanging around in.

And yet, for whatever reason, no one around him seemed to care. People who were dressed to the nines walked passed others trembling in the alleys without so much as a glance from either party.

He did not like it. Not one bit.

To make matters worse, he had only managed to complete part of the mission the elders had sent him to accomplish. While he was able to purchase some more tools from the bazaar and have them shipped back to his village, he had failed to meet with the governor in the Upper City to request more support for the people in the countryside. In fact, he had only just set eyes on the Governor’s mansion before he had been stopped by some men in uniform and ordered to leave.

Still, it seems there was a possibility his foul-mouthed contact might be able to help him. In truth, he didn’t really understand much of the message that had been sent to him, but maybe they could help.

It’s worth a shot!

—————————————————————

March 11, 1000 AS
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

He entered the tavern quietly. The place was quite crowded, filled with people loudly chatting to each other about various things. One or two looked up at him, but upon not recognizing him, they quickly went back to their conversation and drink.

He winced. The scent of ale was strong here, and it was not one he was overly fond of. Such drink had a way of addling the minds of people, making them behave… strangely.

As he made his way upstairs, his mind began to wander. Would these people he would be meeting be good, righteous people? The sort of people he would bring back home to his village to help everyone out with their recent difficulties? Or would they be of a less-than-moral sort, like so many others he had seen in this city?

He certainly hoped they would be the former.

[Bloble]

Volcania
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

The large woman taps her toes on the stone floor, sending shudders through the building. Shunning chairs, she leans against a wall, eyes closed, feeling and following the rhythm of the music downstairs. Of all the republic's innovations, it is the one she enjoys the most, with good food being a distant second.

"Don't get antsy on me, Tang," she grunts, cracking open an eye. "You think a 'big fish' is gonna get caught on the shitter just like that, when he knows he's a wanted man? If it were that easy I'd've walked in there and torn Hong's jaw off myself for all the shit he's pulled. So we got time. He's the one whose days are numbered."

Luxury - even luxury in squalor, has a way of softening people. Eroding their instincts and patience, like seawater against stone. Not her. The woman tapping her feet to the rhythm of the beat is as sharp as the one who disembarked years ago. She has not forgotten how a wounded animal can lash out suddenly.

"Now I ain't gonna tell you to believe in me or any shit like that. But just watch. If these people are for real, they'll prove it. And if they ain't, it's no harm done."

Just as she tries to talk herself out of it, the door opens, and several people stream into the room. Volcania's eyes scan the lot of them, and while her assessment says 'unimpressive', the sixth sense in her gut, the one that truly awoke only days ago, says with certainty that these unassuming people are the ones. Even so, not one among them looked like they'd ever killed a man on purpose. Could they even do anything?

"Late doesn't matter. You're here and I'm not waiting any longer," she calls out, arms crossed and skin sizzling. "So? Which of you's the nerd?"

Who had connected her to these dweebs?

[Plue]

March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Ad Astra


Sneakered feet hit the pavement as Astra hops out of the cab, paying with a casual tap of her phone against the door.

Not the last on here, or the first... well, everyone else seemed to be close enough she might as well go in now.

Bouncing from side to side as she stares up at the sign 'Tullii Taverna' Astra brushes down her comfortable outfit. Black shorts over long leggings for the still cool march air, with a long sleeved blue top with a ⏚ on the front in blue. Nodding to herself she pulls the heavy bar door open. Pale face scrunching in displeasure as the wave of smoke that reminds her of poorly specced capacitors hits her.

And people came here to enjoy themselves? How odd.

While wondering about the newly found megastructure and the possibilities as to its energy generation potential (heh) Astra lets her mind wander as she completely ignores the outside world. Pressing her way through the waves of the crowd that- people talk like that in real life? Ears burning more than her eyes at this point.

Refocusing herself as she tunes out the auditory catastrophe, instead listening to the hum of electromagnetic radiation that the entire area is awash in. Oh, well... that's a bit nosy of them.

Well~ Maybe they would rather enjoy listening to a long discussion about the best kind of cake. Mentally marking the devices as well for future reference she takes the stairs two at a time she takes a deep breath of the more purified air upstairs.

"Haa~" Shoulders slumping as she lets herself take a moment before slipping into the conference room.

"So? Which of you's the nerd?"

"Well... that rather depends on your definition of nerd: Are you asking in the classical sense as in of intellectual persuasion or in the modern vernacular as of hyper focusing upon an interest?"

What an interesting thought, considering the focus that she had developed herself after the event it is quite possible they would all qualify for the second definition. Still, that would be getting ahead of the concrete - What would the material composition of the dam be? For its size it would need to be an engineered material that... - facts that she had.

"From the profiles I do have available there are those here that are capable of fulfilling either variation of your definition."

[Bloble]

Volcania
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"...yeah, it's you." Volcania had understood maybe half of that, if one was being generous. Nerds were those that used pointlessly big words and could casually 'surf' over the BrightNet whose operation was strange and arcane to Volcania. Nerds seemed to be purely a phenomenon of the Republic, not to be found anywhere else. This one fit the bill better than the rest.

"Prove it, then."

With those words, Volcania's laid-back posture becomes almost predatory. Her eyes drink up the appearance of Astra and everyone else in the room as if sizing up rivals - or prey. She steps forward and slams her palm onto the wooden table with enough force to make it creak and groan, and momentarily drown out the music below.

"That is, prove you're the real deal," the tall woman says, as the room literally and metaphorically begins to heat up. "And not some SRD snitches."

The wood beneath her fingers begins to sizzle and blacken.

[Plue]

March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Ad Astra


Astra's head bounces side to side before she nods; she does rather fall into both categories easily enough. A rather odd thing to focus on first off upon meeting though, but well... who was she to judge.

More importantly there's no way she's going to sit in any of those chairs. Mysterious stains aside they all look less comfortable than the floor even. Not this floor here and now, a glance down confirms that, but the standard definition of an average floor of an average building. Was this really the best place they had to meet?

A wireform sketches itself in the air as she sits down, filled in just in time for Astra to kick her feet off the ground and lean back in the ergonomic chair.

"Oh, before we get started - And could you not make it any smokier up here please? - Were you planning on having your friend record this meeting, or is that just a side benefit of the room here?"

Making herself comfortable in a chair perfectly designed for herself is a wonderful thing.

"If you wanted a record of this I could have taken care of that no problem!"

[Elyrin]

Gabrielle Monet
March 11, 1000 AS
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Oh, fun. 'Prove yourselves!' Come on, now, if I could tell everyone was legit on first sight, surely you can too? No need to vandalize the place. Though, that table was probably just picked up off the street somewhere before someone could toss it in a dumpster...

"Straight to the point, huh? Alright, big lady. I'll bite."

Gabrielle approached the mildly singed table and planted her open palm directly opposite the other woman's, meeting her with a smile and a playful wink. "Really, though, this fine establishment was so kind to let us meet here. Shouldn't we appreciate their hospitality a little?"

As the table burned, Gabrielle's touch seemed to refresh it in equal measure, returning some semblance of life to the dead wood before it could be seared away.

After a few moments, she retracted her hand from the table, leaving behind a faint outline, hazy and red. A single rose, bloody crimson and bristling with thorns, sprouted from the handprint's palm.

"Most of the stuff I can do is about not dying. Kinda hard to demonstrate that. Unless you're the type of woman who gets into a fistfight the first time you meet someone?"

Keep your voice level, Gabby, don't sound excited. They'll all think you're a weirdo. Don't wanna make a bad first impression.

[MssrNeko]

March 11, 1000 AS
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Paul Copperbell

"And not some SRD snitches."

"Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!" Paul jumps from his seat to diffuse the tension. "Blazing Sun, we just got here and you want to burn this place down?"

Paul's plate is already overflowing with unfortunate events. The sudden awakening of his godlike powers. Paul's superior pushing ahead of schedule and shoving more work onto Paul. The rude appearance and appeal of the girl the day before. And now Paul is stuck in this stuffy room with his would-be "Pantheon." With one of them, some barbarian bimbo, threatening to burn hotter than a Republican summer.

Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. "Let's just get down the brass tacks."

"I got an e-mail. You all got an e-mail. We're here as 'Gods'," he says with sarcastic emphasis. "That's good enough for me. I don't know about you people but I need to get some sleep."

"Don't give me that look," he says defensibly. "I have work tonight."

[Mormarth]

Dorothea Ionescu
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"I'd rather not run the risk of collateral damage," She hedged, now standing at the head of the table, next to the fire-woman.

"I'm more than happy to deal with any maladies, or bodily or mental woes persons may be having to deal with on this evening," Continued the white-coated woman with the big sword on her back, now standing beside the older gentleman.

"But a wise person once told me that a man who so quickly unsheathes his sword will soon be parted from his arms," Dorothea continued, stroking her chin with the air of a wise sage.

"Not that the latter means much, a severed limb isn't that big of a deal," She shrugged expansively, "But I'd rather not have more patients than I already do, people will be annoyed with me."

[Bloble]

Volcania
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"Heh."

She is seemingly satisfied by the reactions to her provocation. Rejuvenation, creation, speed, yes, this is the proof her hunch was right. These people might be soft, and they talk a lot of nonsense, but their powers are the real deal.

"Told ya." She glances at the man who'd been sitting in the room with her, before the others arrived, smirking. "Still think it's a waste of time, Tang?"

Stepping back from the table, the woman folds her arms. The oppressive aura of heat that had begun to fill the room slowly ebbs away.

"I'm Volcania. Remember it. Peace and quiet ain't in the cards no more, for any of you."

[BladeOfEden]

Markus Braun
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Markus watched the commotion silently from the corner of the room.

This was a mistake.

Not only were these people a bit too “lively” for his liking, they also seemed to be rather dangerous, and in more ways than one.

They spoke of gods and pantheons, as if there was more than just the one true god.

Heretics.

One conjured a chair out of thin air. Another nearly set the table alight with just the touch of their hand, and another put it out just as easily.

Witches.

He reached for his longsword, still concealed under his cloak, and lightly grasped the handle.

Still, at least the woman in the white coat and the man in the suit seemed… relatively normal.

Then again, neither of them seem too perturbed about what just happened…

Perhaps it’s time to leave.

[Mormarth]

Dorothea Ionescu
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

She scoffed, meeting the gaze of the fire-woman, 'Volcania'.

"Don't speak nonsense, anything is within the grasp of anyone at this table, that is the nature of what we are now, no?"

She placed her hands flat on the table, "We have, for some purpose, been granted this power, the essence of the divine. I don't know where it came from, or why it came to me, or any of you. But what I do know is that we are all in the same carriage, so it is for the best that we look out for one another. Don't want corpsetailors to come rip our skins off, ah?"

She flipped them upward, "That being said, if we are to introduce ourselves, then I am Dorothea Ionescu, late of the Commonwealth of Cscongrad, one of the many humble nations of the Confederacy," She paused, "I should be, anyway, unless the voivode got himself eaten by something and the Bacs-Bodrog's came in and took over, again."

She brushed at her coat, "As you can no doubt see, I am a physician, and am in possession of the full rights and privileges to practice my trade and care for the populace."

She scrunched up her nose, "Is that the right word? Anyway, don't hurt people. Or if you do, make sure it's near me, as I am very capable in making sure people don't die."

Dorothea adjusted the strap across her shoulder holding the great blade in its beautiful sheathe, "Which is a point of pride for someone like me, as a doctor, and a swordswoman."

There was a pause.

"Oh! I must also ask of you, all of you," She uttered, gazing around to not only this 'Pantheon' but all persons within the room, "Have you perchance heard or encountered a man who smelled of poppyfields and battlefields? Both at the same time. It's quite important."

[Eru Erufu]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

Tang looks much the same as Markus, expression one of unease all throughout Astra and Gabrielle's demonstrations. He watches young women like a hawk as they weave their divine might into tangible forms, though his hand never tightens around his blade until he sees Dorothy move without moving. He hisses under his breath, stepping closer to Volcania in a gesture half to protect her and half to reassure himself by her presence. "Gemenr, these fellows look right as rain and all, but I've seen these here powers before. Parasite gods." He keeps his eyes trained on Dorothy all the while he whispers to his boss. "Lot o' them start out as nice enough folk, wantin' to do good. Don't take long for the power to go to their head. Got levied back in the Regency to fight the Sword Maiden of the Wilting Lotus." He winces at a painful memory. "She did the same thing as that there young lady is. Movin' without movin'; cuttin' through us like a sickle through wheat."

---

Paul Copperbell

As though right on queue, our dearest salaryman's phone dings. A message from his boss: an earnest plea. Jodi's somehow managed to erase all of the sales data for the past quarter, and he needs Paul to send his copies over. Classic Jodi: if she wasn't drop dead gorgeous, the Boss would have fired her years ago.

Useless secretaries aside, Paul would certainly have noticed that he isn't nearly as poor as he used to be. From lucky finds of 100 credit bills to a sudden pay raise at work, he just can't help be realize he may have more free time to go gallivanting with these wannabe gods than he'd originally thought.

[Bloble]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

"Mm. You're halfway there, Tang."

Volcania leaves her hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly for a moment, before walking past him. She laces together her hands behind her head as if the displays of might here to do not trouble her, even though her own might does not exceed that of anyone else in the room.

"You've got the right idea, swordswoman. Hurtin' people's bad, yeah? Sure we can all agree on that. 'Cept the ones that deserve it. Like that guy you're talking about, maybe. Plenty of those, else you wouldn't need to know how to swing that thing around. Power's not meant to be ignored. So that's why we're all here. Work together. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. You too, white collar. You knew what you were doing when you decided to show up."

The tall barbarian, her body hardened by the Bleak, snaps her fingers, conjuring a flame in the palm of her hand. It licks against her fingers, not managing to burn anything, yet growing louder and larger by the moment.

"And we're gonna keep eyes open. Normal folk can't do it. If one of us starts actin' like a monster, lets this power get to their heads..."

She forms a fist, smothering the flame before it can spiral out of control.

"Crush 'em."

[Elyrin]

Gabrielle Monet
March 11, 1000 AS
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Aww. Don't leave a girl hanging, now.

It seemed like there wouldn't be any fistfighting after all, so Gabrielle pulled up a chair, mildly disappointed. Well, it was probably for the best. Could be fun, sure, but maybe knockiung each others' teeth out wasn't the best thing for team cohesion. Everyone had to make a few sacrifices.

"As you can no doubt see, I am a physician, and am in possession of the full rights and privileges to practice my trade and care for the populace."

"Oh, you're a doctor? We have something else in common, then". Intrigued, Gabrielle reached out to the rose blooming from the table and brushed it away with her left hand. The flower vanished in the briefest moment, leaving behind a few scattered petals and a sweet, but distinctly unflowery scent in the air. "Gabrielle Monet, of the Merciful Hand. Gabby's fine. We should have a chat sometime; maybe we could learn a few things from each other. Can't say I know what a poppyfield smells like, though."

A strange request, that. No doubt related to some heroic quest of hers. Surely fate would see this new Pantheon to it at some point.

If one of us starts actin' like a monster, lets this power get to their heads... Crush 'em.

A sobering though. If a living demigod was nearly unstoppable, imagine the havoc they could wreak if they turned from the path. And in such a case, who was best suited to put a stop to the fallen god but their old group? The most dangerous and righteous battles; that was the real reason Gabby decided to come to this bar in the first place.

"Overwhelming force, right? The slightest error could totally go to shit in no time at all, so give them no time at all to begin with." It was only logical. Ideally, the perpetrator would be kept alive to answer for what they'd done, or were threatening to do. Even if they hadn't done anything, the mere act of turning away from their ordained duty- no, Gabby, not now. Worry later. She sighed and shook her head. "Okay, we all just met. We don't need to go in depth about that ominous crap right now, yeah? Let's have a couple drinks, loosen up a bit so we can get down to business."

[BladeOfEden]

Markus Braun
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Markus pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

He had no idea what any of these people were talking about. And, in all honesty, he did not want to.

Clearly, they were dangerous. He had heard legends of people with such strange power, but had always considered such tales to be little more than the ramblings of pagans.

The “doctor” concerned him the most. She seemed perfectly normal, though that sword of hers seemed a bit out of place, but when she did that, he knew she would be just as much trouble as the others… if not more.

His eyes wandered to the man in the suit. Just like the woman in the white coat, he seemed perfectly normal. But his reaction to the others was… concerning, to say the least. Was he some kind of government agent?

If that’s the case, he can take care of himself.

He rose from his seat quietly, walking along the room’s edge towards the exit, hoping the others wouldn’t notice him. This was no time to be messing about with shady folk.

He needed to head back soon. It would soon be time for the village to begin planting the spring wheat. He had to do his part to help. That was his first priority.

…Sure, there had been a few unexplained incidents over the last couple of days. Small blessings from the One to help him on his journey.

Nothing more.

[Plue]

Ad Astra
Noonish
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"I was very careful with my contacting, no mistakes were made there. You were the only ones left who had not been already um, resourced." At least, that is the safe assumption considering what she had not found. Absence of something is evidence of something else.

"And we're gonna keep eyes open. Normal folk can't do it. If one of us starts actin' like a monster, lets this power get to their heads..."

Raising her hand, "Would you be more specific on that definition there... a lot of my power went specifically to my head after all."

Is this discrimination? This was not supposed to be a jock club! Were mistakes made after all?

[MssrNeko]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Paul Copperbell

The light in Paul's eyes fade as the situation dawns on him. He is stuck with these people. Paul squeezes his phone as if it were a buoy in the middle of a vast ocean, with the horrible storm approaching. He is not going to die or worst, go to jail as an accomplice to this burgeoning gang. He is not going to be some fall man just so someone will get away scot free.

Not again.

Paul abruptly stands up, an attempt of a smile on his face. "Look, it's getting late and as much as I'd like to stay," he lies as smoothly like the scraping sound of his chair. "But I have an appointment in two minutes. Good-bye, farewell, so long, whatever-you-foreigners-say."

This is not his ace-in-the-hole but this straw is his last grasp to escape. Ignoring any protest and with a struggling smile, Paul reaches out for the door to Safety.