LHC Official Unofficial CF Archival Thing

[Sariel of Tevet]

Pullio immediately stops, hands reaching to the new challenger with the blades to tear him apart and feed him to the kitten sitting in the corner. He looks over at Spirit and walks over to her, the expression of a dog that knows that it has done wrong on his face. The he turns back to the Dayman, which causes his face to start to twist into an expression of pure anger starts to grow on his face. The barabarian looks back at Spirit, then turns to the group, and stands next to Spirit, his gaze daring someone to try and jump her. The gaze that said, 'I will murder you. Just try it.' Then he notices the wolfs and a small smile appears on his face. Then he turns back to the Dayman, and back to the expression of hatred appears again. Everyone else, calm. Then he walks up to the bar and stares at the bartender, "Tabhair dom do láidre deoch, deoch-fear. Is gá dom a fháil ar meisce. Is é sin an leathcheann glittering ag dul a dhéanamh dom a mharú dó. Má tá mé sober." Then, seeing the bartender's extremely confused expression, he turns to Spirit for help.

[Sariel of Tevet]

"What, like your title Haley? no, I don't actually have a name..." she sounded skeptical then slightly in awe "I would be honored to have a name though! Call me what ever you please. A few that have been shouted at me before are- beast, hell demon and witch. Though the ones who have spoken them were running away... I suppose they must have been fearful insults then. Apologies once more Haley."

Haley thought about it for a moment. "I knew a girl a long time ago...here name was Selene. I think that would be a good name for you, yeah?"

Then the whole Pullio thing happened. Haley sighed, glancing at Izaak and the Dayman. "Are we...are we going to fight this guy?" She already had one revolver out. "Because I'm game, but don't we have important things to do?"

-

Outside, Vespi watched the road, while Geirhald growled something towards the bar.

"I know a fight's breaking out. But there's one more still to come, I think."

A whistling with with a rising intonation.

"That demon girl. Scarlet? She's still coming I think."

Geirhald shrugged and continued to watch the patrons trickle out.

[Sariel of Tevet]

The Water Elemental

If she could have an expression. It would be one of happiness "Selene sounds very nice. Okay... you now know me as Selene." It took a little while for her to notice the new development. "The girl seems to have calmed the man down- I just hope he does not cause the deaths of any other one of the people we have met or anyone else in general."

Spirit

She shook her head, it was like looking after a child. If the child was a walking building with anger issues that spoke the complete opposite language you spoke.

"Look, just... give him your biggest and strongest drink okay? and..." her eyes fixed on mummy girl and her watch "...I need to do something" she began walking up to the girl before looking to the bartender again. "Oh yeah and if you don't want to be reduced to a head and torso I would-" she stopped to think. "You know what- just don't piss him off. Basically if his face scowls stop what you are doing... if he yells at you and looks like he is going to kill you... run away. Because that means he is going to kill you." She turned to Haley "So, quite the group you have established... is the dumb ass dagger mage one of yours?"

She did not care if he heard her and was offended or just thought she had spunk or even wanted to kill her. Her prime concern as of now was Haley and the watch... and her payment for getting the watch to the one who hired her.

[Sariel of Tevet]

The Nightman just blinked at Horror.

"That's quite an arsenal that you can create. I suppose just...have some fun. Just no plagues. From what I read about this...Hooters...they are notorious for having diseases of their own. We want fun, not overkill. "

The Nightman pulled a portal device from inside the infinity void encased in his arm and set it down in the room. A purple oval swept up from the device and a rippled image of the Hooters could be seen flowing in front of them. He placed a leg into the portal and turned back to face Horror, "And as far as finding out who we are, talk to me after we have enslaved this miserable continent. Then we will have all the resources we need to find out who we are," and then disappeared into the portal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Nightman emerged at the doors of the Hooters, where Sark was already waiting.

"Welp, let's not waste anymore time...shall we?"

The Nightman pulled a dazzling obsidian sword from his wrist and kicked in the double doors and ran full speed into the lobby, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. His gaze fell to the floor, to a pair of tiny white tennis shoes. His eyes carefully traced the set of pale, close shaven legs attached to them, followed closely by a set of voluptuous thighs attempting to escape with their lives from a pair of startlingly tight orange shorts. His heart began to race a bit as his eyes wandered over the exposed mid drift, left exposed by something that barely passed as a tank top. A smirk appeared on his face as his eyes found a full chest, nearly as inhumanely restrained as the set of thighs that had held his attention moments ago. Sweat began to appear on his brow as he found a collar bone, which surprisingly was situated under a lining of feathers.

The Nightman began to change from arousal to confusion as he allowed his eyes to make contact, and was confronted with a "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO," and a ruffling of feathers. His eyes were met with those of a barn owl. He trembled a bit, wandering why these were not the women that the internet had shown him so generously. Looking around the restaurant, he found all the women to be the same. Sirens from the neck down, night fowls for the rest, hooting commands at one another and their customers (who seemed to not be phased at all). He glanced at the menu in her hand and noticed the real name of the restaurant, "WHOOTERS." As his world was shattered, so was broken neon "W" on the sign out front, which came crashing to the ground at that instant.

He raised his blade, overcome with anger, and called back to Sark.

"So....I was hoping we would be able to atleast get some passable slaves from this invasion..but...trust me...just kill them all."

He rushed at the hostess and took her head clean off in one swing, releasing a puff of feathers in the process that tickled his nose and caused him to sneeze. NPCS...uh...Customers and waitresses began to panic and hoot all at once and chaos erupted into a restaurant that soon became filled with blood, feathers, and regurgitated field mice.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Horror probed the portal with one finger, absently wondering if this would give him teleportation powers before deciding that if it was safe enough for a robot clone, it was safe enough for a monster amalgam. Or something. With a might, horrific shrug, he strolled through the portal...

...only to be greeted by the sight of the Great Owlperson Massacre. Once the stench of blood, feathers, and regurgitated field mice reached his nostrils, he recoiled and vomited all over the nearest patron, a slovenly looking man who, despite the carnage around him, seem intent on finishing his mediocre wings and beer.

"My apologies," Horror began, but the man shook his head.

"No worries. Ain't my first time in a Whooters." Disgustingly enough, the vomit seemed to make the wings more appetizing. Horror snatched one up and munched away, contemplating the implications of being able to see, smell, and vomit, despite having had his internal organs - brain included - all removed back during his desert cult days. As he finished his wing, the gross man gave a lurch and slammed his head onto the puke, blood, and mouse covered table, before suddenly jerking back up and staring straight at him.

"Master?"

Horror raised an eyebrow. "And what manner of creature are you, now?"

"It seems your vomit has transformed me into a zombie."

"Gross. Why are you talking."

"Well, I'm a chicken-zombie and - "

"Kill the owl-ladies."

"Of course, master!" The strange zombie man snatched up his utensils and pounced on the nearest fleeing, hooting, woman. Horror averted his eyes, having a particularly weak non-stomach for a monster. There came the sounds of hooting, gnashing of teeth, blood splatter, and more than a few murmurs of "Tastes like chicken" while Horror retrieved a non-vomit covered menu and began to read.

"None of this sounds appetizing!" Now more disgruntled than anything, he grabbed a waitress. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you have anything on this menu that isn't absolutely disgusting?"

"Whooo...ho?"

"Yes, I know you don't set the menu, but look at this now!" He started to show her the menu then sighed. "Oh, nevermind. Will you see if the cooks will bring me a salad?" She tried to run away, as the Nightman was approaching fast, but he steered her away and towards the kitchen. "There's a nice tip in it for you," he shouted after her. "A nice handful of small rodents! Now where was I? Ah yes."

Horror took the zombie-man's former seat, brushed everything onto the floor, vomit included, retrieved a newspaper inexplicably from his jacket. He started flipping through the pages. "Now...sports, sports...sports..."

[Sariel of Tevet]

Pullio shambles over to the bar and keeps his eye on the group. The barbarian then looks at the bartender, and matches his gaze, just staring at him, his face as calm as water in a lake on a non-windy day.

The bartender makes the drink and slides it over to the barbarian. He looks at Spirit and frowns. "Control your barbarian." Then quickly moves out of range of the barbarian's fists.

Pullio glares at the bartender and turns to the group, drinking his drink. Which we will call the Murky Swamp Tickler, because it has the murkiness of a swamp, and Swamp-tickler because....whatever. The berserker stands and walks over to Spirit, standing protectively behind her, continually sipping his drink. He looks over at the 'dumb-ass dagger mage' and gives him a warning look. His freakish eyes clearly say, 'try to attack her, and I will feed you your arms.'

[Sariel of Tevet]

Bartholemew looks at the man with the amazingly expressive eyes. He bats his own a few times, pounds an large glass of Hard Whiskey, and rises to his feet- sauntering towards being identified as Spirit- but then he pauses mid action, shrugs, and looks back to Haley. "Right. So. Where were we before the Bikers Interup- Ah. Yes. Working together for the common good and all that." He begins- as he drops himself in to a seat next to her own, yawns and stretches loudly- and tosses back another glass of alchohol down his throat. "Don't worry about me being Drunk. My Physiology is very fun in that regard, in that I can drink quite a bit without feeling anything unless I want to- and right now, I do not want to be drunk, as I wish to talk. If I wished to be drunk, I would have ordered a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster- as you can see, I did not do so."

He smiles winningly, flashing fanged teeth. "Alright. So. First things first. Operation Midnight. They've got to go- all of em. Right? Right. Okay, sound's good to me. How about we start by finding out /what/ exactly /is/ left over from that particular group, and go from there? Savvy? Savvy. Good. Alright- but in the meantime, we will need a way to pay the bills, until such time as we find the location of said group- henceforth and thusly, why not engage in Mercenary Monster Hunting until such time as we have ascertained the actual locations and identities of our enemies- unless, of course, you already fully possess said lore and knowledge, in which case henceforth verily it would be a good idea to act on said information, posthaste. What say you, my friend?" he finishes, as he knocks back a fourth Whiskey, grins wider, and leans on the bar.

[Sariel of Tevet]

"So is...is no one else concerned that two people just got murdered in front of us?" Leske punctuated his question with a gulp of his drink. Then there was the fact that some random guy had started talking like he knew Leske...and Leske's old master. God forbid another of Magnus' people ever ended up here.Ephantus looked over from his own place at tha bar and chuckled.

"You're going to have to make some concessions for insanity with this group. Gods know I have."

Leske sighed. "It really is Centros all over again." He took another drink. Ephantus wasn't paying attention to the distressed gun mage anymore, now listening in on Bartholemew's conversation. Ephantus had to admit he was a bit curious about what became of Project Midnight's assets.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Seeing as the barbarian backed down to a degree and stood behind his...master?..., Izaak decided to take his seat again.

"I'm used to people dying at this point," he replied to Leske. "I have been ever since...never mind. Anyway, as strange as this universe is, it doesn't surprise me that no one batted an eye at the rather extravagant exit the two of them made. All the other universes I've seen at this point are either on par with or weirder than this one, so it's whatever." He began to channel the element of water and refill his glass. No need impairing himself in case the barbarian decided to go into a rage and attack.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Kayla watched the exchange between Izaak and Leske with mild interest. The former's claim to have seen different universes reminded her of when they were back in Dow Jones' food court, and the Dayman had asked Cale if the twins had any relatives in other universes. At the time she had dismissed it as the ramblings of a lunatic, but now she wasn't so sure. It might explain whatever it was that she was sensing from Leske and the Dayman, and why it seemed so familiar. Especially when she was getting a similar feeling from Izaak.

Cale, meanwhile, was returning to his seat, disappointed that there would be no bar fight. He shot a sour look in Spirit's direction and muttered, "Party pooper."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>


"So....I was hoping we would be able to atleast get some passable slaves from this invasion..but...trust me...just kill them all."

Sark smirked. "That was already more or less my plan." He took a stance with his feet at shoulders' width apart, and arms extended in either direction. He flexed, and blades sprang out from his wrists as his theme began to play once more. He casually strolled through the building, slicing throats as though he was merely swatting at flies. Well-endowed flies. That hooted.

When he reached the opposite end of the building, he turned and raised one of his arms. He closed his fist, signalling his minions. Instantly, vampires started flooding in from every window and feasting on the patrons and servers. Not only were the Nightman-clone vampires present, but there were several peasant vampires that Sark had created while on his way to the Whooters. He grinned as he watched his army rip through the horrifying owl-human abominations, and he began the task of licking his arm-blade clean.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Spirit

She was really starting to get the thought of leaving this job behind, but she had not done so yet and would not leave herself a record of even one failure just out of pride if nothing else. She would have to think of a way to get that watch, and if she needed to cause a scene she would. Though for now, she looked at the Dayman and his own companions just up the bar a little tiny ways before walking up to him slowly, passing the odd Bartholemew in the process as she then stood by the Dayman, arms crossed as she half glared at him. "Pullio, go watch my wolves, I need to talk to this... man." This very... insane man she thought to herself.

"Look, I have a question for you, and it is this, what the hell were you thinking when you and your friends thwacked a Barbarian on the head with your motorcycles and crazy hovering objects... because you could have gotten yourselves all killed. I am not against that from happening... but am not in the mood to kill anyone right now. Also, what in the devil's are you all doing and why is it so important?" She did not care if she interrupted a conversation or cause him to be frustrated, she was ready to beat him over the head with a rock, or dagger.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Pullio nods and walks over to the wolves. HE crouches and sticks out his hand for the wolves to sniff. His silver eyes watch the animals with a keen interest, 'I wonder what those wolves are thinking. Maybe they would like to un-alive people with me.' The barbarian looks back at Spirit, then shakes his head and looks up at the people staring at him out of fear. HE shows his teeth and a few sprint off, fear in their eyes. Someone else dies of a heart attack, and one person faints. One of the fleeing people starts screaming, "Monster! Freak!" Then he disappears down the streets. Pullio considers chasing the man down and feeding him to the wolves, but decides against it.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Scarlet had followed along with the group silently, attempting to recall anything from before three years ago. Even the smallest memory, if she could recall it on her own, would get her out of this mess. Of course, she was unsuccessful. She groaned mentally--she REALLY didn't want to be a part of this group; they had a habit of attracting the worst kinds of trouble.

A rat scampered across the floor in front of her.

I ate one of those once, in viper's form. It tasted terrible.

Her crimson eyes watched the proceedings around her with total disinterest. There were so many things going on at once, it was impossible to keep track of all of them... So she decided to pay attention to the floor. That at least was consistent. There was a loud crack of thunder, and Scarlet found herself huddled under the table, her knees drawn up to her chin. At her hip, the aforementioned rat looked at her like she was insane. The demon merely scowled at it, "What? You wanna get eaten?"

[Sariel of Tevet]

Stratus placed his hands on The Dayman's robustly royal shoulders and threw himself up in Spirit's face.

"Why wouldn't we run him over huh?! Do you see how big I am! I'm the baddest biker in this whole gang I don't have to moo..."

The Dayman turned around and grabbed Stratus' face, pushing him back down onto his bar stool. Swaying the beer bottle in front of the kid's face, he taunted him and added, "You know, you're lucky you are even getting to sit at the bar right now. You aren't nearly royal NOR old enough to be in here. Hush."

Stratus folded him arms and murmured something to himself about The Dayman being old and began to swing back and forth in the stool. The Dayman shook his head and stood up, boasting his glistening royal chest at Spirit. Stratus tried to snatch the beer bottle while The Dayman had his back turned, but he was caught anyway just as the bottle touched his lips. The Dayman, without even turning around, had thrown a hand out to retrieve the bottle, pulled out his codpiece and placed it inside, and continued on with Spirit.

"Anyway."

He through a royal finger up in the air and took a giant breath.

"He was clearly a homeless person! Those of lower classes have no business on motorways, as they cannot afford a proper codpiece vehicle, like my gokart for example."

He paused and motioned towards his go kart which was...parked...a few feet from his person.

"Clearly, he had no business on the roadways and it CERTAINLY was not his home, being a vagrant and all. We were merely doing him a favor by not handing out mercy filled welfare, the downfall to any economy. Or do you simply CHOOSE to not believe in DOW Jones?"

[Sariel of Tevet]

Having heard a noise behind him, Cale got back up and took a few steps away from the bar. He kicked over a table, revealing the Scarlet that was hidden underneath. "Is that where you've been all this time? You don't have to sit on the floor, ya know. There seems to be an infinite number of seats at the bar. And about 53% less rats."

As crazy as she still thought it sounded, Kayla decided to ask regardless. "Um, excuse me" she said, addressing both Leske and Izaak, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I have something I need to ask the two of you. You [indicating Izaak] just mentioned having been to other universes. I believe the Dayman said something similar a while ago. I've been becoming increasingly aware that the three of you seem to have a different aura about you than everyone else here. I thought it seemed familiar, and I just realized that I've been sensing the same thing from my brother, Cale, all along. Though I can't detect it from myself, I'm guessing that I'm probably giving it off too.

I'm not quite sure what it means, but it almost seems as though we're all surrounded by some sort of magic. And based on the feeling of dissonance it's creating in the air around us, I doubt that it's magic that originated in this world. Cale and I woke up in Stormfront a few days ago with no memory. So I guess what I'm asking is: are you really from other universes? And... and if so, could my brother and I be from a different universe too? Could that be related to our amnesia somehow?"

[Sariel of Tevet]

"It's possible," said Izaak. "In my home universe, there's a special type of magic that allows one to move between places on the same dimensional plane or from one plane to another, even between universes. It's called choramancy, or spatial magic, and it's a very difficult one to master.

"The man Magnus that the boisterous man over there," pointing to the Dayman, "and this man here," motioning towards Leske, "have mentioned is a master of spatial magic and many other types of magic. I, however, am only capable of teleportation on a single plane of existence at a time, such as from here to any point within about ten miles, possibly taking a small group with me. I am also capable of moving myself between universes. Unfortunately, I am unable to take 'passengers' with me, and the location I'm dropped into, including which universe, is completely random. I've yet to figure out how to get to the universe of my choosing, which is why I'm not back in my home universe yet."

Izaak looked over towards the Dayman and his overly-noisy "conversation" with the barbarian's master. How did Magnus put up with this guy? he thought to himself. It doesn't matter. I'm stuck here since I can't gather up the energy required for another jump for a while. I suppose I'll just stick with this group until then. Maybe soon, he pulled out a small locket containing a picture, I'll be home again. He closed the locket again and put it away, fighting back the rush of sadness that was welling within him.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Leske decided that it wasn't worth losing his sanity over to worry about things and paid more attention to what Izaak was saying. He frowned a bit at what he heard. This Izaak clearly wasn't another one of Magnus' apprentices, but appeared to have discovered his own form of Travelling as well. Curious. What was more curious was the siblings seated nearby.

"Miss, er, what was your name again?" The two looks remarkably familiar somehow...

The two gave him the same sense of familiarity that the Dayman gave him. Which probbaly wasn't a good thing, but still. Leske hated mysteries. He'd gotten his fill of them during his time as a mook.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Kayla listened intently to Izaak's explanation. She was having a hard time believing everything he was saying about choromancy and travel between different universes, but, if true, it could help explain what had happened to the twins.

"Miss, er, what was your name again?"

"I'm Kayla. Kayla Efrun. And my brother's name is-" She was cut off when her aforementioned brother turned around and shouted.

"I'M CALE EFRUN, THE SQUID RIDER!" He announced his new, self-proclaimed title as loudly as he could (which was pretty freakin' loudly, just so ya know).

"Aww ye," Boopen Jr. agreed.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Satisfied that everyone had arrived, Vespi nodded to herself and strode back into the bar, Geirhald at her heels. Most of the Atmosfaerie who had been ushered out had either left on their bikes to cause trouble or relocated to the The Hideout Bar and Grill, which was, as the name suggests, a former bar and grill that had fallen on hard times and been abandoned. Also, there had been an outbreak of projectile diarrhea that lead to a quarantine and condemnation, but when the Land of Blades took over, the previous Health Administration had been thrown out and never replaces, making it the perfect hideout for the Storm Riders. Now it resembled an abandoned warehouse.

Am I the only one finding this joke funny anymore? Oh, it wasn’t funny in the first place?

Well whatever.

“Alright, listen up!” Vespi arced a bolt of lightning over the bar, cutting off any more of my ramblings and shattering a lot of the liquor bottles. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to out the Crosswind and his Imperials from our city once and for all! Although you clearly aren’t Stormlanders, you seem to be a collection of poison-tipped thorns we can jam into Opheia’s tibia. Geirhald made a noise and she looked at him. “What, isn’t that where humans jam things? Geirhald shook his head slowly. “Well, whatever. You’re all useful, which is why we let you into our secondary secret base.”

“Secondary?” Haley snorted and twirled her revolver around a finger.

“What?” Vespie demanded indignantly. “You think we’d take you to our real secret bade?”

“Pff. Yeah, kinda.”

The Lightning Atmosfaerie glared at her, sparks crackling in her “hair” but didn’t take it any further. “Not so long ago, Opheia put together a team of Blade Riders to counter our superior mobility. However, he doesn’t ever ride with them.”

“Splitting up?” Haley asked suddenly.

“Don’t interrupt my plans!” Vepis screamed and bolts of lightning reached out from her form to touch the ceiling and the walls, dancing with bright purple energy. Geirhald had to take her by the shoulder and shake her before she calmed down. “Thanks,” she muttered, not noticing Geirhald pick bits of vitrified matter from his hands.

“Yes,” she replied coolly. “I want to split this group up. I want one group, preferably the largest group, to run interference. You’re going to get on your bikes and ride through the city, breaking everything and drawing the Blade Riders to you. You can fight them, races them, seduce them – I don’t care, as long as they’re distracted while the other team infiltrates the castle and takes out the Crosswind himself.”

“I’m going after Crosswind,” Haley announced. “He’s got some Project: Midnight answers that I need.”

Still keeping calm, Vespi continued. “I’ll give you some time to figure your groups out, but be quick.” Her eyes found Pullio and the Dayman. “You two might be better in the interference team. And you,” she said to Spirit, “probably for the infiltration team. But whatever. I’ll be running the infiltration team and Geirhald,” she indicated the Sandstorm Atmosfaerie, “the distraction team. See us outside when you’ve got it figured out.”

“I’m doing infiltration,” Haley said again, more indignantly.

[Sariel of Tevet]

"I'm going for the infiltration team." Ephantus said immediately. His warform would probably be better suited for interference...but if what Haley said was true, then he too dearly wanted to speak with Crosswind.

Leske just shrugged. "I think I'll go interference team. My, ah, skills might b put to better use there." he said. He glanced over at the Efrun siblings, mind racing. He'd pretty much realized (at least partly) who they were the minute Cale had introduced himself. He'd never personally had that much interaction with CETIS, but the man left a...distinct impression. "Well, I guess we'd better get going." Leske stood up from the bar and walked out the door where Vespi and Geirhald were waiting.