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Stans in Umbra Mortis I_icon_minitimeToday at 6:53 pm by Hyperion

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» Devil in the details
Stans in Umbra Mortis I_icon_minitimeJuly 16th 2024, 6:00 pm by Tiʼamat

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Stans in Umbra Mortis

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Alert Stans in Umbra Mortis

Post by Demonhunter June 13th 2024, 10:16 pm

“Hah, Royal flush! Pay me, bitches!” The pit fiend stands at the card table, throwing down his perfect hand of cards. The group of demons just stare for a moment as a fog rolls into the dock house. The place is piled high with crates of guns, drugs, and, strangely enough, bolts of imported lotus silk, crates stamped with Cambodian shipping tags.
Suddenly the card table is upturned, and all four demons have their guns in hand.
Alright, fucker, I had two aces, there's two in the flop. How is it you managed to dig up a fifth? Clyde, what'd you have?”
The gnoll sets his measly hand down with a frown. “Shit is what I had.”
“Dante?”
The other gnoll shamefully tosses down his cards. He had two Uno cards. There is silence for a moment as the fog thickens, drawing the demons' attention from their botched game to their quickly obscuring vision. They haul their rifles up as the fog becomes so thick they can see nothing but feel their stomachs drop in dread. “C-Clyde. Call the b—” There is a yelp and a spray of warm liquid across the side of the pit fiend's face as a disembodied gnoll’s head rolls across his feet.
All at once, the docks erupt in a firefight, automatic gunfire and the squeals of demons echoing for acres as the fog spreads further into the Los Angeles streets. The thundering sounds from the docks rush into town. The horses and reavers, soaked in seawater and demon blood, separate into squads of five or six and spread out across each block. They descend on the city in an instant, running blades through every man and woman they can find and snatching up young children wherever they may find them. The police respond quickly, but bullets seem to be of no use. Even a lethal shot at most sends a devil rider to the ground for no more than a few minutes before the carnage resumes. Within five minutes, the entire docks district is paved in the blood of its residents and overrun with red-cloaked reavers.
The seas stir as more horsemen haul themselves from the depths. This group is heavily armored, with water draining from the inside of their platemail and seeping from the nostrils and mouths of their undead horses as they trudge up the banks. The simmering sea calms, the portal to Dis in the shallows closing.
“Dam’ien!” A red-cloaked rider approaches, bloodstained and mostly dry of seawater. “Securum Litus est. Quid scopium nostri?”
A rider on a grey stallion, loaded with heavy bronze platemail, waves a hand toward the small horde of dreadnoughts. “Opus novium reavers.”


“Take the city. Bring me any under the age of reality. You have two hours to collect as many recruits as possible and to cause as much carnage as you can. And if you run into any red bloods like last time, find me.”
There is silence as his dreadnoughts move out to oversee the destruction, their scarlet capes still weighed down with seawater. Damien takes a minute to breathe in the sweet chaos and destruction, the wails of the unfortunate echoing through the city like a symphony of mayhem. He urges Zygan forward until his hoofbeats go from gravelly sand to pavement, helm beneath his arm like a football, revealing the stalwart face of a reaver scorned.
Time to find a hospital.

Xxxx

The Hellhound was alight with life on a usual Saturday evening. Booze, drugs, and music flowed as if they were the very lifeblood of the city. Humans and devils alike enjoyed themselves like teenagers at a wild rager. On the barstool nicknamed “the king’s throne” sat the scariest man in town, sipping an extra salty margarita and watching yet another rerun of Friends on his phone. Uncaring as usual to the madness around him, his glass was never allowed to run dry, yet he still seemed stone sober.
The only thing that brought his attention from his Netflix binge was the ticker scrolling across the top of his phone screen. London, Eugenia, Denver, Vegas—all these cities were exploding to life.
“All my main men, in my office, now.” Isroh all but leapt from his chair. “Turn the music up and keep everyone inside, by any means necessary.” He ordered the bartender, who just nodded and turned to his own phone to relay the message. Within five minutes, the boardroom was packed to standing room only, all six televisions tuned to different news channels.
“Boys... and ladies, the world’s gone to shit.” He slouched down in his chair at the head of the table, but none of the people in his office dared to touch their seats as they were each glued to the horrifying visages shown. “I want all available resources routed to Vegas. That jackal-headed freak might be in Nevada’s desert, but I am not about to have my brand-new venue destroyed before it even opens. I—”
Just as Isroh was about to lay down the law, his eyes caught a ticker scrolling along the bottom of one of the news stations. “Hey, you, turn that to channel six and turn the volume up!”
“This just in, zombie horsemen have come from the Los Angeles docks. They appear to be killing everyone in sight. If you are in the Los Angeles area, be advised to evacuate the city.” Isroh blinked.
A shiver ran up his spine at the mere appearance of these things. Whatever they were, they were almost painful to look at, even through a helicopter’s camera.
“Change of plans. We have to defend ourselves. All men to the streets. Put these things down by any method you possibly can. My human ranks, please step forward.” There was a moment before ten humans stepped forward, seven women and three men. “I want you heading up evacuation efforts. Every car, van, and truck I want filled with people and headed to Texas. Starting with the party going on downstairs. I want you nowhere near the fighting.”
Those ten rushed out the door at breakneck pace, yet in eerie silence. “The rest of you, I do not know what those things are, but I know what you’re thinking because I feel it too. We have it pretty good here. If the city dies, we die with it. Fight with everything we have. I have some calls to make and some errands to run, but I will join you soon. With that, see you on the other side.” Isroh slumped for a moment, running through his contact list before setting his phone on his secretary’s desk.
“Lisa, I need you to call every one of these numbers. Tell them I’m calling in whatever favors they owe me, or I am about to owe them a favor.” And with that, the devil king stepped out into what would soon be a battle for the City of Angels.
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Alert Re: Stans in Umbra Mortis

Post by Arcana June 19th 2024, 3:48 pm

Sean was beginning to grow tired of world ending catastrophes. Cities lighting up like Christmas trees, with the next metahuman villain wanting to prove themselves dangerous. The small wards he weaved through London ripped apart like wet tissue paper much like the ones protecting New York. Each destroyed ward felt like a scraping at the back of his mind, subtle pain that made him wince with each action. A small part of him even felt the call of The Horn, though it meant nothing to him. More than anything he was human, even if there were trace amounts of inhuman blood within him.

These things all happened while he sat on his favorite recliner, soaking in the news which had a story about the up and coming celebrity Lightyear. Sure, he couldn’t touch but  he was sure Zell didn’t mind him looking. Celebrities was one of his few creature comforts, following their careers and the messy drama that came with it.

Michael had left, Jordan wasn’t around and everyone else was off living their lives. It was enough to make him feel depressed. So maybe he welcomed this chaos that was on their shore, literally in the case of undead at the docks apparently. Where were the paladins when he needed them?

”Whelp, looks like a job for Sean to save the day once again.” If he didn’t mess the whole thing up that is. There was supposedly a god that lived in the city, yet he was certain he wasn’t doing anything about this. Typical divine behavior if he could say so himself.

So he moved through the house, dressing up in some pants and  a sleeved shirt which showed off the spiraling tattoos that adorned each arm; softly pulsing with magic like a heartbeat. A few scrolls and charms stuffed into his bottomless bag, something to draw on when he needed them. He didn’t know what he was dealing with but it was nothing good. He would have even been tempted to blame The Castors if they weren’t the types to keep themselves secret from society as a whole.

Ready for whatever he was going to face, Sean opened a portal and stepped out into the street. There he saw chaos already. A few people, twitching in their own blood on the street and children loudly crying as armored figures on horses dragged them away. They had heads, so this wasn’t some kind of Dullahan invasion.

”Can’t we have just one day without ridiculous shit like this?” He groaned to himself, gathering a current of air around his hand. ”Hey fuckheads, didn’t you guys know kidnappings illegal?” He growled outloud,  followed by a sweep of the hand.  The invisible blade of air lashed out, cutting legs from underneath a horse and sending one of the riders tumbling to the street.

Its blood spattered across the floor and the child nearly hit the pavement until a cushion of wind swirled beneath him. One of the parents had been decapitated, which meant he couldn’t do anything but the mother had just been run through. He could see the shallow movements of her chest, four more of those riders now turning towards him. Looks like they were being a little messy on their killing.

With a motion the earth shifted and the child moved closer to him, and closer to the dying mother at his feet. ”This some kind of demon invasion? If so you’ll need more than that when I’m protecting this city,” Gold light coalesced from his l;eft arm and washed over the street, collecting over any human looking bodies on the street. Some remained where they were while others quickly rose to their feet.  

”I wonder how many of you there are. Oh well, I’ll figure it out eventually.” His mind was already on the people around him, the ones who were still alive. He didn't exactly have the mind to consider everything around him, so he had to do things a little tactically. There were two more kids being held, which he had to deal with. That was when he realized that one of them had rushed him, blade already have way to his neck.

They could fight, that much he knew.  A subtle motion, shift of the leg was his only response as the earth to his left shot up and caught them  in the side. Metal crunched, followed by the armored figure being propelled into a building side.  ”Run. I’ll do what I can about these things,” His combat stance shifted, as those silver eyes focused in on these monsters.

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Alert Re: Stans in Umbra Mortis

Post by ProwlerKnight June 20th 2024, 1:47 am

Blue Gyro

As the streets flooded with blood and bodies, a young girl crawled desperately towards the entrance of one of the nearby emergency shelters, as one of the monsters approached her, bringing it’s hammer up to deliver a final blow.  

From across the building beside him, a blue armored figure dashed across the wall before leaping towards dreadnaught, extending his leg out for a flying kick. “Not so fast, big guy!” Blue hit the dreadnaught like bullet, knocking him from his horse and onto the street.  

As the hero shifted himself to land on the street with a tuck and roll, he quickly moved between the girl and the others coming to assist their comrade. “Go, get to safety!” He glanced back, seeing the girl had managed to climb back to her feet, and was now running down the entrance of the shelter.  

“Okay...” He looked back, seeing that they were trying to surround him. “I don’t know who you guys are...” He shifted into a pose, a habit at this point. “But if you think you’re gonna your gonna turn my city into another London, then you got another thing coming!”  

Santo Dorado

The magic man seemed to be doing fine handling the monsters, but as he took one out, two more moved in.  

“Oi amigo...” A masked figure ran over the top of a car, without missing a beat, followed by leaping onto one of the dreadnaughts, pulling them off their horse with a perfect hurricanrana. “Didn’t anybody tell you guys, Dias de Muerte is in November?” He looked back at the monster he had just thrown to the ground, before looking over at Arcana. “Sup.”  

Another dreadnaught charged forward, their hammer primed for attack.  

“Un momento, por favor.” Santo said, before running at the monster, sidestepping part way to run over the top of another car, catching the monster in a crossbody. “And he’s down!!” He exclaimed as he rolled back to his feet the second they hit the street, his movement almost fluid as he placed a foot on the dreadnaughts chest, pumping his fist in the air as he counted with his fingers. “Uno, dos, tres!!”
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