Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: All right, I suppose this is far too late to have anything to do with TSTW!'s 5th anniversary, so I'm going to call this an early Christmas present instead. Some of you may recall my original rendition of Mentor's mansion, and what a sorry excuse for a drawing it was. I have to admit, it was really only a filler image for the Wiki; I knew I could do better than that, I believe you guys deserve better than that, and as such I've spent the last two months perfecting the image. Therefore, I now present to you Mentor's mansion, site of the League of Salvation's headquarters! Hope you guys like it! IC: (Loadstone) As the group slowly exited the security center, Loadstone leaned toward Epsilon and said quietly, "I think you and I should probably go first; between the two of us, we should be able to handle any surprises we might encounter." Outside the metallic room, they found themselves in another of those eerily familiar tunnels, with a glowing light above them and the corridor trailing off into darkness. There was nothing to do but go forward, now. ~ Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: Gadgeteer is so much cooler than Dreadnought ever was... IC: (Loadstone) While Ultionis explained what he wanted from Siren, Loadstone bent down and searched Clearsight for his Coalition communicator. Once he found it, electricity swirled around his hand, engulfing the device and causing it to sizzle and pop. With a grimace he tossed the ruined communicator aside and hauled the Villain's limp form over to the wall. Bands of metal bent out from the wall to secure him in a sitting position, arms pinned at his sides and head lolling on his chest. "That should keep him out of your hair if he wakes up," he told Siren. "If we're all set let's get moving; I'm surprised we've been here as long as we have without someone coming to investigate..." IC: (NPC - ???) The hotel room was subpar at best, at least by Garret Glenn's standards. He supposed that to anyone else, the room would have been quite comfortable; with a queen-sized bed, flat-screen television, and windows overlooking a park as opposed to a noisy city street, it was better than the majority of locations that lesser beings were content to stay in. Garret refused to settle for anything short of the best, however; had he been choosing a room for himself, it would have suited his tastes more. The man whose room this was stood in the center of the open space between the bed and the windows, swinging an energy blade with the experience of a professional. A soft thrum accompanied each swing, and the man moved through a series of slashes and parries while miraculously avoiding slicing into any of the furniture. The memories of how to use that unique weapon had been difficult to come by, but in Garret's experience he had found that no matter how good the memories were, muscle memory simply could not be faked. Accelerated, yes, but never faked. The memory transfer had been a success, naturally; nothing Garret tried his hand at ever failed. At the moment, those memories were being suppressed, the man's body running through a number of practice maneuvers while Garret finished laying the groundwork of his new identity and the setting of the room he would awake to. The terms of the deal Garret had made were...lax, he supposed the word was... and Garret had taken the liberty of putting his own touch on the whole affair. He'd used the body of an amnesiac for the transfer; the man had had no family to look for him, no prior memories to conflict with his new ones, and no life to lose in the trade. Of course, Garret had supplied him with a new wardrobe, dyed his hair, and tweaked the memories he had given the man so that he could make full use of the gifts Garret had given him. The energy blade was another of Garret's deviations from the spirit of the project - the entire purpose of transferring one man's mind into this man's body was to reduce him to a powerless civilian; Garret just couldn't see wasting so much talent and knowledge on a civilian. Also, Garret was convinced that unless he drastically altered those memories, this man would be driven back into the midst of the SuperHuman world, if not for revenge than simply because it was in his nature. If he was heading into the fray one way or another, he might as well be prepared. Although the thought of being bought galled him, Garret preferred to look at things in a different light. He had made enough changes to the scenario that he was creating for this man that it might as well be one of his own projects. He had also found that while he was unable to directly influence the man who had requested his services, by interacting with him and double-crossing him he was able to manipulate him in a different way. And if the man reneged on his promises, Garret was more than willing to destroy everyone around him until his price was met. It was all an extraordinarily complex game, and the intricacies of it fascinated him. Setting aside the note he had been writing, he approached the amnesiac and placed his palm against the man's temple. The man stiffened, his eyes rolling back into his head. It was time to finish the job, and soon Garret would leave the man to his own devices. What he made of himself from here on out would be up to him. ~ Rumpelstiltskin

"...we both know that there are a thousand ways I could destroy you right now. And 941 of them hurt." ~ Rumpelstiltskin

Contrary to popular belief, wearing a Santa hat doesn't automatically make you look festive. A lot of times, it just makes you look goofy. ~ Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: I've finally settled on a new fourth character, so I'm going to attempt to set him up within the next couple of posts, starting with this one. I realize no one has any interest in reading through a massive IC like this, but some things I just can't seem to summarize quickly. After a number of revisions, this is the short version. IC: (NPC - ???) The man who called himself Garret Glenn strode into the coffeehouse with a vexed expression, though no one so much as glanced in his direction. It took only a fraction of his power to ensure that, but in his current mood he would rather have made them all writhe with pain. He may, before everything was said and done. His coffee was waiting on the counter by the time he reached it, and he picked it up without so much as glancing at the employee who had made it. The man offered him a courteous nod anyway; formalities were to be observed, even if Garret was in a foul mood. It was quite simple to find the man he had come here to meet; the bone-jarring discrepancy in his senses that told him that the older man sitting in the corner simply wasn’t there was signal enough. It always unnerved him when someone possessed an immunity to his powers; when you could sense everyone’s mind, could feel it the way you could see or touch them, meeting someone whose mental presence didn’t seem to exist was disorienting. The man looked up with a mildly surprised expression when Garret sat down across from him. He had a grandfatherly appearance, with a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes and noticeable smile lines around his mouth. It was impossible to tell what color his hair had been before it turned pure white, but his face looked like it had been ruggedly handsome in his youth. He was still handsome now, technically, though in a much more mature way. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice laced with a soft rasp that emphasized his age. The sour thought that Garret had mistakenly assumed that this was the man he was looking for simply because the man was immune to his powers crossed his mind. That was another hazard with people immune to mental persuasion; you simply couldn’t tell anything about them. The life story of everyone in the room lay at his feet, but this man was an enigma. “If you aren’t the man who was so desperate for my attention that he left a very pointed note in my hotel room – the room he didn’t have a key to, I might add – then I am incredibly sorry for bothering you,” Garret said irritably. The man laughed, emphasizing both his smile lines and the rasp in his voice. “Quite direct, aren’t you?” he chuckled. “I must say, I had expected more from you, Wiper. The way you have both the League and the Coalition on edge, I expected a man with more … presence.” “Don’t call me that,” Garret said, grimacing. “That name was given to me by the simpletons who hunt me. I cannot say that I like it any more than the connotations that accompany it. Now I demand to know, who are you, and how did you find me?” Garret expected that the sly smirk that had settled on the man’s face was his natural expression; it seemed to fit him like a glove. “I’m a fan of your work,” he said, evading the question. “As for how I found you, well, even a void leaves traces. A hotel room booked, with no record of payment or name registered. A flight seemingly filled, though the manifest shows the plane is one passenger short of capacity. There’s a trail a mile wide for those who know what to look for.” After a moment, Garret nodded slowly. Up until now he had been banking on his slights being overlooked; clearly he would have to be more careful from now on. “You took something of mine,” he continued. “I want it back.” “I only took it because I knew your first instinct would be to run,” the man replied. “It’s very hard to have a conversation with someone who won’t meet with you.” Garret leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “If you want to talk, talk. I’ll decide if it’s worth my time.” The man inclined his head graciously. “Your work in the field of memory alteration is unparalleled. I’ve made a hobby of studying those whose minds you’ve reconstructed, and quite frankly, it’s awe-inspiring. You can build entire lifetimes from scratch, change the very fabric of a person’s being. But what I have yet to see you do is transfer the memories of one person into the body of another.” Garret fought to control his eyebrows and failed miserably. “Why on Earth would I do that? Creating new memories for a person is one thing, but giving them the memories of another who clearly knows that it isn’t his body? The illusion would shatter the first time he looked in a mirror, if the paradoxes didn’t unravel his mind completely.” “And if he were aware of the tampering?” The man was very earnest now, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes. “If you left him knowledge of who had wanted his mind placed in another body, and why? What if you took the mind of, say, a SuperHuman, and put it in a powerless body?” Drumming his fingers on the table, Garret took a sip of his coffee. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought,” he said finally. “I take it you have personal reasons for this, and a candidate already in mind.” “Naturally,” the man replied. “And I would be more than willing to give you whatever you wish in return.” And that was what he had been waiting to hear. Garret stood up, making no attempt to do anything but look down his nose at the man. “I’m afraid I’m going to decline. My abilities are not for sale, nor do I meddle in the personal affairs of others. Now if you would be so kind as to return what is mine, I’ll be off.” The man shifted in his seat, a stubborn cast to his jaw. “I hardly think that something you stole qualifies as yours, you know. Perhaps I’ll hang onto it until you’ve had time to reconsider.” With a stern frown, Garret reached his mind across the coffeehouse, to each of the minds that were already being subtly told not to look into this corner or listen to what was being said. Every patron rose to their feet, and those already standing turned with them to glare daggers at the man who thought he could haggle with Garret Glenn. “My patience is at an end,” every mouth said in unison. Garret never so much as quirked his lips. “You will either give it to me now, or I will take it from you. Be grateful I won’t take more.” The man looked around impassively; had Garret not known better, he would even have said the man seemed satisfied! “All I ask is an old-fashioned favor,” he said quietly. “You do something for me, I do something for you.” “The only thing I ask of you is peace,” Garret snarled, his expression mirrored on the faces behind him. “Give me what is mine, and never let me see your sorry excuse for a face again.” “Perhaps if I told you who I am, and what I can offer you, we can come to some form of agreement,” the man added, ignoring Garret’s temper. As the man continued to explain, Garret found his anger cooling. After a moment he sat back down, the rest of the coffeehouse resuming their lives without remembering a second of what had just occurred. The prospects of what the man suggested were intriguing, to say the least. If he could deliver on his promises… When the man finished speaking, Garret smiled darkly. “Perhaps I am interested in performing a memory transfer…” ~ Rumpelstiltskin

IC: (Loadstone) "Looks like," Loadstone replied to Epsilon, waving a hand in the direction of the dead Sharkmen lying on the floor. One of those strange, bulky blasters sailed through the air and into his hands. He looked it over for a moment, then tossed it toward Siren. It magnetically levitated into her hands. "If anyone tries to get in here, blast 'em." Even as he had said the words, Loadstone was looking over the monitor controls, brushing off shards of glass and ignoring the sparks that showered onto him. Not only did he work in the field of technology design, he was trained to pilot League Jets, and very few control panels could be more complex than one of those. It was a matter of moments before he was flicking switches and alternating between cameras. "This is pretty straight forward," Loadstone explained after motioning Siren over. "These two panels here are fried, so ignore them. This keypad toggles between monitors, and these switches choose the camera. Each row corresponds to a different level of the facility. This panel over here is damaged, but these buttons let you split the screen between different cameras. You have to push them twice, because the first time..." he demonstrated, and sparks flew from one of the broken monitors. "You got all that?" ~ Rumpelstiltskin

I literally have that poster hanging above my computer. ~ Rumpelstiltskin

FIC: After Apep revealed the location of yet another Coalition hideout to the League, Mr. Mystery popped up beside her and backhanded her. "YOU REVEALA MY BASE, I BREAKA YOU FACE!" he screamed with a heavy fake accent, shaking his fist. OOC: That is all. Carry on. IC: (Loadstone)Loadstone raised an eyebrow when Ultionis knocked Clearsight out, but didn't say anything. He didn't like it, but he agreed with Ultionis; no matter how harmless Clearsight seemed, he was loyal to the Coalition and would betray everything they said within moments of them leaving. For that matter, even the Coalition members who weren't all that loyal would have squealed on them in a split second. You didn't withhold that sort of thing without unpleasant consequences. He listened to Ultionis' assessment of the base, nodding at appropriate intervals and studying the plans on the screen. Then he did a quick head count and power check, and spoke when Ultionis asked for more input. "If Skyra can levitate himself, then we're down to only one person who can't use the elevator shaft," he began. "I wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea to leave someone here to monitor our progress and give us a heads up before we run into anyone. Either way, we can't let the Coalition get their hands on what's left of the system." OOC: Unless I'm forgetting someone, we've got Ultionis, Loadstone, Skyra, Epsilon, and Siren. With the first three capable of using the shaft, it's down to whether Epsilon or Siren flies with Loadstone. I think we should leave Siren there and have her relay security updates to us. That gives us an advantage and gives Siren something viable to do, given that she's not very handy in the sort of fights we've been having. ~ Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: The way I envision the base is as an upside-down tower, with the corridors slowly descending in a spiral around the central lift (the one we came in on). Each level loops back around and passes by that same lift, though with a corridor running alongside it as opposed to from it, like on Level 9. The majority of the base is converted mine tunnels like the ones previously described, with rooms placed spontaneously in or next to the tunnels themselves. There are several ventilation shafts along the outer edges, and all of the rooms are interconnected by them. Traps, if there are any marked, would most likely only extend down to Level 3, with the Coalition's heavier presence in the lower levels offsetting the lack of the base's defenses. I think it's probably a little more refined down there, as well; assuming the member's quarters, armory, etc. are down there, the hallways and room configuration are probably more like a typical base than a disguised mining facility. At the very bottom of the base, at the end of the spiral of corridors on Level 1, is a room labeled as "Security Antechamber," with a smaller elevator shaft leading from the back of it down to Level 0. Level 0 consists solely of a circular chamber that is inaccessible by the central lift and any of the ventilation shafts (it has its own, not connected to any of the others). This chamber is listed as "Subject Testing Facility." IC: (Loadstone) Clearsight rolled his eyes. "You Heroes are all s-so c-c-certain of your p-p-place in the world, aren't you?" he stammered. "You n-never st-st-stop to consider that the g-g-governments of the world d-don't trust you, that the only r-r-reason Heroes aren't openly p-p-persecuted is because the League has t-turned you into c-c-celebrities. Half the g-general p-p-populace t-tolerates you, but the other half d-don't trust you or b-b-blames you for all their t-t-troubles. Is that so d-d-different from where the C-c-coalition stands? "And for the r-r-record, my name is C-c-clearsight because that's my p-p-power. I c-can see through deceptive p-p-powers, like invisibility or i-i-illu-illu-sion. Another r-r-reason I was put on security d-d-duty," he added wryly. ~ Rumpelstiltskin

Huh. You know, I had always intended to make an Alagaesia RPG once Inheritance was published, but I guess I'd completely forgotten about it. I suppose my running any sort of RPG is a bit far-fetched nowadays, but I agree that it's a game that should be made at some point.Also, if there is any substantial interest in a Monster Hunter RPG, I'm offering up my services as mapmaker/worldbuilder. While I may not actually play the game, the MH universe is one that I've been dying to delve a little deeper into; what's hinted at in the games is simply begging to be fleshed out.~ Rumpelstitlskin

My, what a very large eyeball you have. Are you sure it's in proportion with the rest of your face?~ Rumpelstiltskin

Let us not, dear friends, forget out dear friends, the cuttlefish...~ Rumpelstitlskin

Now you see, these are the RPG ideas that make me want to cry because I don't have time to join them. Rise of the Guardians was such an awesome movie, I'd go see it again in a heartbeat. The only reason I wouldn't want this to go through is so that I can justify not being a part of it.As for Monster Hunter, I have and am/was/will be playing Tri, so I am familiar enough with the setting to comment and help sell the idea. As a general acknowledgement/commentary on what's already been said, I think Basilisk summed it up best when he said that civilization is the exception, not the rule. From what I've seen of Tri's universe and a bit of online research, the setting is essentially a primal world where dinosaur-like creatures roam freely, dragons being the most deadly of them. Cultures survive by living off these creatures, utilizing them for everything from food to clothing.If a Monster Hunter RPG were to exist, I don't think it would last long if there weren't some expansion upon the world, politics, and plot. The MH video games have literally no plot - go out, hunt certain monsters, come back, sort through the spoils, repeat. The story is flimsy at best, and TBRPGs are really about the story. There's a lot less fun in saying "I went out, fought this nasty Rathian, then came back, took a nap, and decided to go collect Mushrooms" instead of actually playing the game and visualizing it. Sure, it's a lot simpler without fighting the controls as much as the monsters, but it's less rewarding, as well. :PMoga Village's defense was that it existed on a small spit of rock in the bay of the Deserted Island, where few if any of the monsters from the island could reach it. The water was it's walls, and frankly, I think that's probably the smartest defense any settlement could have in this setting.~ Rumpelstiltskin

Anyone else get the feeling that Leonardo da Vinci was a Great Being?~ Rumpelstiltskin

IC: (Loadstone)"Sure, p-p-pick on the guy with the st-st-stut-t-t-stut-st-st- ... ... sp-speech imp-p-pe-pedi-im- ... ... issues," the security guard snarled with a grimace when he couldn't complete the words he wanted to use. "Why n-n-not? Everyone else d-d-does." He took up a position with his arms folded, leaning against the wall next to Loadstone, glaring daggers at Ultionis' back and shooting occasional nervous glances at Loadstone.Loadstone watched the man with a frown, absently tapping his thigh. "You don't seem like Coalition material, Porky," he said finally. When the man turned his glare on Loadstone, the Hero held up a calming hand. "Sorry, that's a bad habit of mine. Nothing personal; I make jokes about everyone, even Trigger-Happy over there." He punctuated that with a point toward Ultionis."But seriously, most of the Coalition are either psych-ward rejects or they just enjoy blasting things," Loadstone continued. "You're in plainclothes, haven't put up a fight, and don't seem to think that the world should grovel at your feet. I don't get how you're working security for the Coalition.""J-j-just because the m-m-majority of the Coalition is c-c-composed of Villains doesn't m-m-mean we're all evil," the security guard said with a light in his eyes that dared someone to call him wrong. "The C-c-coalition stands for Sup-p-p-sup-sup-erHuman sup-sup-p-per-sup- oh, you know what I mean! W-w-wanting a little r-r-r-r-recognition isn't a c-c-crime, is it? The C-c-coalition appreciates that I have a p-p-power, that it m-m-makes me sp-sp-special. It's the only d-d-darn thing that d-does, so I m-m-might as well get some c-c-credit for it."Another poorly-chosen nickname barked from Ultionis summoned the stuttering SuperHuman back to the computers. "I have a n-n-name, you kn-n-n-ow. It's C-c-clearsight."~ Rumpelstiltskin

Oh, how I can appreciate a picture of a horse when said horse is not a pony. Quite a beautiful horse, actually.~ Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: Not sure how far back you're familiar with. The team was split in half by the base's defenses, the active PCs moving forward while the inactive PCs and NPCs were left behind. Our group blasted through a large group of Sharkmen and infiltrated the security center, where X-Calibur fell through a trapdoor and Epsilon all but destroyed the security systems. Ultionis is currently bullying the security guard, whose only power is the ability to detect/see through powers like invisibility and astral projection, into giving them access to the security systems that are left.IC: (Loadstone)The man hesitated, studying Ultionis' gun as if to determine its make and model. Seemingly content with his assessment, he strolled back over to the security monitors with all the haughty dignity of a Coalition member. "That'll d-d-depend on whether any of the c-c-controls are st-st-st-still working," he said, shooting a frosty glare at Epsilon. "I'll d-do my b-b-best."Pushing aside the scorched remains of his novel, the security guard started messing with the control panel. Sparks flew periodically from the carnage around him, causing him to flinch, but he went about his task diligently. After several minutes without any visible progress, the Heroes were beginning to wonder if he was actually trying to bring up security footage or simply trying to stall them.There was a sudden shift in one of the monitors, followed by another, and then another. With the few monitors remaining, he managed to tap into the security cameras in the immediate vicinity of the security center, as well as bring up a 3D model of the base itself. Their current location was picked out in dark gray amidst the light gray of the rest of the structure.The security guard turned around, fists on his hips. "Happy n-n-now?"~ Rumpelstiltskin

IC: (Loadstone)The man looked fearfully from Loadstone to Ultionis, then glanced quickly at the door the Sharkmen had been guarding. Not the kind of glance judging whether or not he could make it there before he was shot, but hoping beyond hope that his short-lived alarm would summon some sort of aide. With no rescue noticeably forthcoming, the man closed his eyes and let out a pained sigh."Th-that would d-d-depend on who you are and what you c-c-consider usef-f-ful," he said to Ultionis, seeming to regain a small measure of composure.Loadstone moved between the man and the door, just to be on the safe side. People could do stupid things when they were desperate. "Try this - are there any more traps in the room?" he asked, motioning toward the floor panel in question. The man opened his mouth, then decided against trying to splutter out an answer and simply shook his head. Loadstone stepped carefully off of the magnaboard and willed it to hover over to the trapdoor, where it flattened to the floor and covered the panel.~ Rumpelstiltskin

NOOO! Ponies have taken over Legend of Zelda too?!! STOP THE INSANITY! ~ Rumpelstiltskin

When you think about it, that almost looks more like Lego Prince of Persia than Ninjago.~ Rumpelstiltskin

I don't care who ya' are, that's freaky right there. Yup; that's back before he got his powers and became the maliciously-giddy Dark One everyone knows and loves.~ Rumpelstiltskin

As is your gaze, Sherlock. The guilty tremble under your stare.~ Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: They figured the Sharkmen finished us off. Since the guy's reading a book, he's quite clearly not looking at security footage. :PIC: (Loadstone)The Sharkman Ultionis targeted didn't stand a chance, toppling limply onto the floor with two bullets in its brain. The other one, which had just managed to grab its blaster and start to take aim at Ultionis, flailed as Loadstone loosed a concentrated burst of electricity at it. Sharkmen dead, Loadstone stepped up onto his magnaboard and floated over the trapdoor toward the wreckage of the security monitors.The security guard, who had thrown himself to the floor with a squeal when Epsilon had destroyed the monitors, was just now climbing back to his feet. "G-g-grand Cross is gonna k-k-kill me," he groaned, frowning at what had once been a state-of-the-art security system. Perhaps that stutter wasn't entirely panic after all.His hazel eyes swung to Loadstone as the Hero approached, and he backed into the wall, eyes wide. "D-d-don't hurt me..."~ Rumpelstiltskin

OOC: You know, at this point I think I've realized that there's no hope of getting my 5th Anniversary drawing done any time soon. So, I suppose a happy belated birthday is in order, TSTW!. I can't help but think of how far we've all come in these five years, both in game and out. I know I've grown as a writer, and I've met some truly awesome people on here. TSTW! is an epic pastime, and I sincerely hope we continue to grow and have awesome adventures over the next five years. :)That is an excellent collage of drawings, Kumata, and brings back many memories. I can imagine just how incredible it would have been had you finished.Now, back to business:IC: (Loadstone)The group continued down the tunnel, surrounded by a pool of light that revealed nothing but the earthen walls to either side of them. Darkness behind them cloaked the carnage of the battle before; darkness in front of them hid the dangers ahead. As they proceeded, it became clear that there had been no expectations of the Heroes surviving the onslaught of Sharkmen; no further security measures hindered their progress.As the tunnel began to take on a noticeable downward slant, the darkness suddenly resolved into a metallic door barring the tunnel. Two small glass panes set into the top of the door revealed a technological glow lighting the room beyond. Loadstone stepped up to check whether the door was magnetic or not, and another motion sensor caused the door to slide open with a hydraulic hiss.The room was a textbook example of a security center; television monitors lined one of the walls, and a small coffee machine sat on a desk across from them. Two Sharkmen guarded a doorway across from the Heroes, blasters leaning against the wall at their feet. A diminutive man sat in a swivel chair in front of the monitors, idly thumbing through the pages of a hardcover novel.The man spun around and blinked at them at the sound of the door. Mouth moving soundlessly, he quickly whirled back around and pushed a button on the console. Red lights began flashing as the man leaned into a microphone. "S-s-security breach!" he said in a panicked voice. "I-i-intruders in security center, l-l-l-evel nine!"~ Rumpelstiltskin