December 3, 1973 – Don’t accept generics, don’t you deserve the best?

I think the one in the lingerie and cape was a psychic, she may have been standing there doing nothing because she’s the leader, but I don’t think so.  I think she was trying to melt my brain.  She didn’t put her hand to her temple like the psychics do in the movies, but she was staring at me intently and I could feel something happening.  Whatever it was wasn’t working though.  Someday I’d like to find out if they intended to protect my thoughts like Fred said they did for him or if it’s just a side effect of my horrible headaches.   

After that initial kick I grabbed the dominatrix woman by the collar (see, that’s why you don’t dress like that) and threw her through the wall, the exterior wall behind us.  I hope she’s got some kind of super toughness because you can probably survive going through a wall but a four story drop is another story.  I wasn’t trying to kill her I swear, I just reacted.      

Cape and dominatrix weren’t an issue, but the one wearing the piece of floss was trouble.  She was fast and she hit hard.  I don’t know if she knew that I had super strength or just knew that she was better off keeping her distance in general, but either way she was elusive.  She’d snap me with a couple punches and then be back out of reach.  Feminism aside, I’ve never before seen a woman that could throw a decent punch.  She was like Muhammad freaking Ali.   

Even more amazing though, her outfit stayed on somehow.  It must have been be glued to her tits.  Which can’t be good for your skin.  As I was getting pummeled I wondered – where do these women come from?  I’ve been told that natural super people are very rare, so rare that you’ll never meet one.  So unless Playboy has their own “super-soldier” program, I can’t understand where women like this could have come from.  There are only a handful of militaries that can successfully create super people, and the ones that can manage it can’t do it in any kind of volume, I can’t imagine they’d allow any of their assets to get away and end up in slutty Halloween costumes robbing banks.   

However consider this, Martialla, Blue, and I are all NBH’s that were created by different kinds of experiments.  I didn’t even know that was possible.  And maybe it wasn’t before, but now things are changing.  Maybe this is a thing like with generic brands at grocery stores.  The super-soldiers like Angel (God rest her soul) are your Honey Nut Cheerios and your Count Chocula, but now people have figured out how to make Apple Blasties and Flakie Flakes and they’re starting to flood the market with knock offs.  Is that what’s happening?  Are we about to live in a world full of cut-rate defective super beings?  That doesn’t sound good for anyone.

I’d like to say it was a stratagem on my part, that I feigned being really hurt to draw her in, but it was just happenstance.  After a hard shot to the ribs, I slumped into the corner and Boobs McGee finally danced too close and I caught her by the hair.  I yanked down and ripped out a good chunk of hair and scalp off her (good thing for me it wasn’t a wig) and the whiplash effect of her head getting snapped down knocked her out cold.  Ironically given our previous conversation, her body flexed out like I was cracking a whip, contorting her in an odd way as she flopped to the ground.  I looked out in the hallway where the leader was still trying to explode my head with her mind powers (or maybe just standing there) and failing (or succeeding). 

“Are we done here?” Her eyes darted around wildly for a second and then she nodded quickly “Get your friend and get out of here.” 

While she struggled to drag her friend away I saw that said friend was still breathing, so at least I didn’t break her neck accidentally.  I should probably have Blue teach me a few moves one of these days so when I fight I only kill people who I want to kill.  I snorted out a big blob of blood and sat down in the corner with the last of my smokes.  I was never unconscious exactly, more like when you accidentally get way too high and you just kind of forget that time is a thing.  I flicked my ash out the hole in the wall.  Next thing I knew, Martialla was standing over me. 

“I think my nose is broken.” 

She crouched down to look me in the eyes “I think you got your bell rung.” She gestured at the hole in the wall “What happened?” 

“Wrong address.” 

“You seem to attract more than your fair share of trouble.” 

“Yeah.  Look, I’m sorry I complain all the time.  I’m doing the best I can.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m not a soldier.  From now on I’ll listen to you and Blue, I’ll do whatever you guys think is best.” 

She snorted “You must have really gotten dinged if you think that.  I’m sure that’s not going to last long once you shake it off.  What you need to realize, Ela, is we’re not superheroes.  There’s no such thing.

That’s comic book stuff.  We’re just trying to make our way.  And that means we’re going to have to do whatever we need to.  Can you accept that?” 

“I guess.  I mean, I did rob some banks back home.” 

October 8, 1973 – Let’s get tropical!

Since the Shadow Lords have chased me out of my apartment with their wicked ways, I’ve been flopping with whoever Elvis, Mary, or Saysamore have been able to talk into letting me crash with for a few days.  I’ve been a couch hopper before but I was the one choosing the couches.  I don’t like being at the mercy of others like this but there’s not much I can do about it.  Also most people here don’t have couches, so it’s more like borrowing some floor.

Since I have no income I’ve been mooching food as well, which normally wouldn’t bother me too much but I need a trucker’s buffet worth of food just to feel like I’m not going to pass out.  Something’s got to give here or I’m going to use up all the goodwill of Elvis and his friends and be left to die in the gutter.  It’s a precarious position when every day things get a little worse.

Sidenote, Elvis has a lot of girl friends for me to stay with.  Not girlfriends, he doesn’t seem to have any of those, but a lot of friends that are girls.  So many that it seems like something is going on.  I don’t know what that something could be, but it’s odd.  I’ll have to figure that out one of those days.

Last night I slept in the store room of a bar in touristville.  The deal was that I could stay there for a couple days if I got this giant oil drum out of the basement.  I don’t mean like a 50 gallon barrel, I mean like a rusty old hunk of metal that used to hold fuel oil.  It looked kind of like a giant BBQ smoker.  Or just a normal BBQ smoker in Lone Star. 

I ripped it out of the concrete and crumpled it up like a wad of tinfoil which was good.  I cut the shit out of my hands doing so which was bad.  I need to get used to being super strong.  Things like that keep catching me by surprise.  My skin certainly isn’t super-strong.  Hopefully my super metabolism can protect me from tetanus.  The owner, who I think is Russian, watched me do all this with a cigarette in his mouth and little to no reaction.  Like a woman ripping a half ton of old metal out of the ground was something he’s seen so much it’s become tedious.  These Madripoor folk seem like they’re pretty jaded. 

In the morning he made me some kind of spicy egg dish and then we sat around the bar staring at each other.  He doesn’t speak much English and I don’t speak any Russian (or whatever) so there wasn’t much to say.  I found an old guitar and was messing around with that for a while.  When I started to sing he said “przestań robić” and waved for me to stop.  Everyone’s a critic.  I had a top 40 hit damn it!

I’ll grant you that most bars aren’t really hopping during the day, but for a tourist bar this place was absolutely dead.  Which didn’t seem to bother the owner and seeming only employee in the slightest.  Probably a front for money laundering or something.  Everything here seems to be a little crooked at least.

No one came in until around five o’clock and the person who did come in wasn’t looking to drink.  It was my friend the blue alligator-rhino man from the other day.  The fact that he was able to find me so easily calls into question the effectiveness of my Shadow Lord evasion strategy.  Perhaps they’re not hunting for me as ruthlessly as I think.

I was ready to duck out the side door, figuring Big Blue was there for round 2, but it wasn’t that at all.  He’s one of these guys where if you kick his ass then you’re his friend.  Usually with this kind of guy, that doesn’t cross gender lines but when superpowers get in the mix the lines are blurry. Nice to know that he doesn’t discriminate. 

He started ordering whiskey sours and once he found out that I could out-drink him as well as out-fight him, I think he fell in love with me.  His French was funny sounding to my ear but we understood each other well enough.  He loves basketball.  And, as you all know, the only thing I love as much as music is the Tropics.  We sat there drinking and talking hoops all night long.  He thinks Willis Reed is better than Mel Daniels but he was watching the game where Jackie Moon got thirty rebounds against San Diego so I’ll let that slide.

He seems kind of sad.  You know, on the inside.  I guess being a seven foot tall blue dinosaur man is about as lonely as being a CS girl stranded in a foreign land hunted by a ruthless international criminal syndicate and presumed dead by everyone back home.  We freaks have to stick together.

Date unknown – Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

You spend a few days in utter darkness and your mind starts to play tricks on you.  I’ve heard that sensory deprivation can cause you to hallucinate and that must be true unless a highly localized version of the Northern Lights was happening by me.  I suppose your brain gets bored with not having anything to see and just starts making things up.  Beyond dreams and lights though despite the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m in an old storeroom I started to convince myself that the room had no door.  That they sealed me in here somehow, with magic, or just normally with bricks like nobles too sometimes when they’re bored with their mistresses.  I’ve worked all around the walls several times and I only felt stone – nothing that felt like a door.  It would explain why no one has come to taunt me or throw food at me or anything since I’ve been here. 

But like I said, it was just my mind playing tricks, which was made apparent when the door opened today.  The very small amount of light that came in through the doorway was enough to sting my eyes like flying grit and start them to watering.  Once I was able to stand looking I saw Martialla coming in holding a candle and a pitcher, maneuvering the door with her hip – she’s more graceful than I give her credit for.  Sometimes. She handed me the pitcher and I took a drink (sadly of water) as she unslung a pack from over her shoulder and brought out some bread and cheese.

Martialla shielded the candlelight with her body “I figured you’d need to regain your strength.”

“I’m fine actually, I had a dinner date just the other night.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain later.  Have you made contact with Mord?”

“Would I be here if I hadn’t?”

“Don’t get touchy, I was just asking.”

“I think I’m entitled to get a little touchy since you fucking stabbed me.”

“I knew you wouldn’t die.  And we could go tit for tat on that, all the shit you pulled on me.”

“You said that it had to look real!  You said that they could be watching us at any time so . . .”

“I know what I said, I wasn’t the one complaining, I was just titting at your tat.  I won’t insult you by asking if you’ve identified the targets but can you at least tell me who they are?”

“The old lady is the main one we need to deal with, there’s a couple other women too – as long as we catch them by surprise it shouldn’t be a problem.  One of them is a real hardcase though, we need to be careful with that one.”

“Aren’t we always careful?”

“No.”

I took my gear out of the satchel and stripped off the peasant rag I was wearing to start getting dressed “You kept my clothes in the same bag as the cheese?  And you just wadded it into a ball?  You’re lucky this magically repels wrinkles otherwise you’d be in a lot of trouble with me right now.”

“What are you going to do?  Stab me again?”

“Good Gods are you going to keep bringing that up forever?  You kicked the shit out of me like ten times!”

She crossed her arms “I feel like an apology is in order.”

“I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

Her eyes widened slightly “That almost sounded like you meant it.”

“I do mean it, why would I want to stab you?  It was just for show, and I’m sorry.  I’d do it again in the same circumstances but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry about having to do it.  I had to sell the story you know?”

“I just hope someone was watching.”

“So what’s the deal?  Why are these Kostelos taking orders from women now?”

“I don’t know really, something Kartak brought with him changed things for them – after he slaughtered their old shaman anyway.  Brutally slaughtered that is.  Apparently he brought about some kind of religious sea change that favored women.”

“And marginalized himself?”

“I’m just telling you what I know.”

“Well you know what they say, you can’t keep a good woman down.”

“Do they say that?

“They’re going to start.”

Once I was dressed in my clothes I felt a thousand times more calm and confident.  I’m sure I still looked like a scarecrow and smelled like a dockworker after a hard day’s work but even so I felt much better.  There’s just something about being properly dressed you know?  Also it was just nice to have boots on – my feet are going to need a lot of attention once this is all over.  I looked at Martialla as I slipped the Whiterock ring back on my finger.

“What do you think happened while I wasn’t wearing this?”

She shook her head slowly “Nothing I hope.  I agonized over that, I thought maybe I could slip it to you and no one would notice, but you said . . .”

“Yeah, I know what I said.  Why are you carrying a candle instead of using your magic?”

“Seemed a little too conspicuous.”

I didn’t understand her reasoning there but I let it lie.  She’s not pretending to be anyone other than she is, and they all know she’s magic so what’s the point?  I assume it made sense in her mind.  Martialla took on the appearance of the one of the Juost manor maids so I could copy it and then we were off.  The room I was being held in was indeed a tower, but I think from the outside it looks round and I know the room was square – I’ll have to check from the grounds when this is all over.  We went down a short staircase and across the upper halls to the master bedroom where the old Kostelos woman who’s causing all the problems had installed herself.  As we left the room where I was imprisoned I saw a guard sitting on the floor sobbing uncontrollable and covering his face in horrified sadness.

“What’s with him?”

“I learned a new spell.”

I shook my head “Magic is awful.”

When we walked into the room I had a flashback to the keep outside of Hillside.  Or was it Tall Elk?  Anyway, you know the one I mean.  The room had the same kind of stink infusing it and there were similar looking markings painted on the walls.  And while I am no expert, these seemed to be less of patterns to ward off evil spirits  so much as patterns to invite the evil spirits in to have a good old time.  One of them specifically I know is the reverse of a sigil that’s supposed to ward off death.  So draw your own conclusion there.  The Kostelos are not a large people generally and the women was shrunken with age, looking even more so in the comprehensively soiled former grandeur of the Baron’s massive bed.  Martialla grabbed her legs and I put a pillow over her face and in a couple minutes her days of evil doing were over.

Now you may not think that murdering an old woman in her sleep is not particularly heroic but you’d be wrong.  If an orc comes charging at you and you stand your ground and hit with a club that takes guts sure, but fighting against someone attacking you is one thing.  That’s an immediate reaction to something right in front of you.  But the cold blooded murder of a defenseless old-timer?  That takes some real courage.  And I’m not saying that murders are courageous, they’re mostly cowards, which is just the point I’m trying to make – I’m a normal person and I did this anyway because it needed to be done.  This weak old woman brought down ruin on thousands of people, she had to go – and I had the willpower to do it.  That’s a hero.

Not to mention what I had to go through to get the chance.  And what Martialla had to go through.  I wonder if she had sex with the Duke’s cousin.  I’ll have to ask her later.  As we headed for another part of the manor we heard fighting outside – Mord’s crew must be doing their part to keep attention down in the courtyard.  They’re a little early, but what can you do?  Timing is hard.  When we got to the next room the woman inside was out of bed and throwing on some kind of primitive animal-skin armor (looked like an armadillo but that can’t be right) and had an axe lying close at hand.  She wasn’t old, but she was ugly.  I don’t know if she was deformed or possessed or had a curse on her or what, but she didn’t look precisely human.  Her eyes were kind of oblong and set at an angle – like they were sloping down towards her nose.  It was unsettling.  And that nose itself was upturned like that of a bat.  Her hands seemed to be fifty percent too large as well.  I didn’t care for her whole vibe.

She snarled at Martialla “What’s going on down there?!”

Martialla affected a tone of fear “The peasants are revolting!”

I couldn’t help myself “Of course, but she asked what’s going on outside.”

They both turned to look at me, confused, and then Martialla extended her hand with the magical words of magic and assailed her with a line of fire.  This didn’t bother Batnose too much as she countered with some magic of her own and deflected the attack – sending up a huge wall of flame between us that bisected the room.  And set the bed on fire.  It was just a perfect plane of fire hanging in the air – I never saw anything like it.

“Huh, will you look at that.”

Martialla cast another spell to protect us from the fire and we dove through – which was quite exhilarating.  If you ever get the chance to walk jump through a giant wall of fire you definitely should.  I don’t know why we jumped instead of just walking, it just seemed more apt.  Batnose was waiting for us and blasted us with another pillar of fire which burned the Hells out of us even through Martialla’s protection.  She claimed later on that it wasn’t real fire, that it was divine energy that looked like fire but I think Batnose just had a better spell and it overwhelmed Martialla’s.  Martialla is always making excuses for her mediocre magical powers.  Batnose expanded in size to where she had to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling and then lay about with her axe but there’s the thing – she was big but she didn’t seem that strong.  She was four times my size but I was still able to pin her down with my Walking Stick while Martialla heroically stabbed her in the ribs until she died. 

It’s really nice to have my Walking Stick back in my hands.  More than anything else I felt naked without that.  There’s something about the heft of holding an item that you can really whack someone on the noggin with that makes me feel assured.  It’s like you can point your stick at the entire world any say “You, you’re in my way!”  I can see why rich people like it so much.  Well that and for beating poor people so badly that they go blind.  We stepped back through the fire just as another woman was coming in the door. She was wearing full armor, even the helmet, but you could tell that under all that metal she was a muscular slab of humanity.  She’s have to be to move so easily with all that weight – I tried a chain shirt on once and it nearly brought me to my knees, she had on plate mail and it didn’t seem to bother her in the least.  She had long ornately plaited blonde hair that hung down to her waist – that part looked like what opera people think that warriors look like.  We looked at each other at the same time and then Martialla and I hopped back through the flame wall.

“I assume that’s the dangerous one?”

“Yeah.”

“The one we need to take by surprise?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t we go after her first?”

“I was just going by the rooms that were closest.”

“Okay, so we climb out the window and . . .”

That’s when the opera warrior came charging through the flames – she had no protection, she just didn’t care about running through a wall of fire.  She smashed Martialla into the wall with her shield and she was swinging a hammer at my head.  You know a warhammer, not like a hammer for carpentry.  I managed to get my Walking Stick up to block it – and by block I mean get in the way sort of.  You have your friend swing a sledgehammer at you and you try to block it with broomstick and see how that works out.  The good news is the hammer didn’t hit me in the head.  The bad news is that the Walking Stick was driven back into my head with enough force to knock me on my ass.  The even worse news is that the Walking Stick broke into three pieces.  I just got it back!

Scrambling to my feet as opera warrior hammered Martialla I grabbed a flaming blanket off the bed and tossed it over her head.  I tried to grab and hold her as well, but she shoved me off with one elbow like I was a silk ribbon trying to hold back a rampaging rhino.  At least Martialla was able to get in a few stabs while she was blinded by the blanket of fire.  At least I think she was able to, as an observer it’s hard to tell with all that armor if the strikes are getting home of just glancing off.  With no other bright ideas I double-fisted my Flask and my Tankard and then pulled out the axe I took off Greysmith.  Not being an AXEpert (come on that’s funny!) I don’t think I struck a single telling blow, but I did slice her shield in half – this thing is ungodly sharp!  And more importantly I distracted her enough for Martialla to stab her in that area between where the back of the breastplate (is the back of a breastplate still called a breastplate or is it a backplate?) and the armor that covers your ass.  Does ass armor have a name?  It must right?  That was that, and neither of us got our brains dashed out by a hammer in the process – but it was a close thing.

Martialla looked at me grimly “One more stop.”

I grimaced “I think I liked being a prisoner better.”

At this point servants and various other people were running in every direction not knowing what to do – which I understandable when there’s a fire in the building and you’re under attack by unknown partiers.  It’s not like they were under siege or anything, they went to bed thinking this was going to be a normal night.  Martialla and I made our way to a solid door that was locked up tight, but this dwarf-axe made short work of it.  One the other side, in a small bedroom clutching a book to her chest and looking scared out of her wits stood Baroness Juost.  I’m not sure what surprised her more, seeing her axe-wielding maid on the other side of the door or when I returned to my normal appearance.

She gasped “Cousin?”

“Are we still doing that?”

“I never expected to see you again.”

“Well you know what they say, you can’t keep a good woman down.”

She frowned “Do they say that?”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 53,040 platinum, 8,000 gold

XP: 1,070,851

Inventory: Flask of Endless Sake, Hat of Effortless Style, Tankard of the Drunken Hero, Ela’s Dazzling Garment, Belt of Physical Might +4, Ring of Urban Grace, Black Marketers’ Bag (5), Tidy Trunk, Whiterock Family Ring (Ring of Binding), Ela’s Elegant Boots, Ela’s Extravagant Necklace, +1 Adamantine Dwarf Waraxe 

Noble’s outfit (5) collegium ring,  pocketed scarf, wrist sheath, signet ring (2) assortment of fake signet rings, silver chain set with moonstones, gold and emerald ring (2), garnets (700), gold necklace with jade pendant, ivory combs, tax collector’s badge, gold bracelet with ivory inlays, silver necklace set with rubies, gold earrings with jade inlays, silver and gold brooch, silver necklace with ruby pendant, disguise kit, covenant ring, tiny diamonds (26), Saryah Phidaner gown, masterwork thieves’ tools, onyx (55) personal signet ring, tiara, masterwork red and black long greatcoat, Turnbill blade of first forging (one of three), darkwood and platinum music box, silver bracelet set with bloodstones, platinum ring set with fire opal, silver and moonstone bracelet, holy symbol of Kozilek, dwarf journal

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company