Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Hello folks, Here's my character from the Global Guardians PBEM, Adamant. Actually, there are 3 versions of him (Golden Age - Bastion: the Living Wall; Silver Age - Verstockt; and Modern Era - Adamant). He's a 500 point brick, United Nations Flagsuit (on the U.N. super-team). I'm going to post all three versions and the slew of short fiction that's been written about him here, just in case anyone wants to take a look at it. So, without further ado. My character. Oh, and I've obviously put a lot of time and effort into this guy, so do your best to be kind. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant Larsson Astred Cost Characteristic Value Roll Notes 40 STR 50 19- Lift: 25.6tons; Dice: HTH Damage 10d6 END [5] 33 DEX 21 13- OCV 7 DCV 7 0 CON 28 15- 4 BODY 12 11- 3 INT 13 12- PER Roll 12- 2 EGO 11 11- ECV: 4 13 PRE 23 14- PRE Attack: 4 1/2d6 2 COM 14 12- 5 PD 30 30 PD (30 rPD) 9 ED 30 30 ED (30 rED) 19 SPD 5 Mental Defense: 0 0 REC 16 Phases: 3, 5, 8, 10, 12 0 END 56 Running: 8" (16" NC) 1 STUN 52 Swimming: 3" (6" NC) Cost Powers END 50 Brick Tricks: Multipower, 50-point reserve 2u 1) Super-Strength Smash-Through: Tunneling 1" through 16 DEF material (50 Active Points); Increased Endurance Cost (x4 END; -1 1/2), No Noncombat Movement (-1/4) 20 1u 2) Just Catching My Breath: +15 REC (30 Active Points); Only When Taking a Full-Phase Recovery (-1) 3u 3) Stands Unharmed At The Heart Of A Star: Desolidification (affected by Drains and Transfers) (40 Active Points); Cannot Pass Through Solid Objects (-1/2) 4 3u 4) Strong Like You’ve Read About: +40 STR (40 Active Points); No Figured Characteristics (-1/2) 4 2u 5) Super-Throwing (Hurled Objects): Energy Blast 10d6 (50 Active Points); OIF (Blunt Objects of Opportunity; -1/2), Range Based On Strength (-1/4), Beam (-1/4) 5 15 Invulnerable Body: Elemental Control, 30-point powers 15 1) Invulnerable I: Physical Damage Reduction, Resistant, 50% (30 Active Points) 0 15 2) Invulnerable II: Energy Damage Reduction, Resistant, 50% (30 Active Points) 0 41 3) Even More Invulnerable!: Armor (15 PD/15 ED), Hardened (+1/4) (56 Active Points) 0 21 4) Incredibly Hardy: +18 CON (36 Active Points) 35 5) Impervious to Environments: Life Support (Eating: Character does not eat; Immunity All terrestrial poisons and chemical warfare agents; Immunity: All terrestrial diseases and biowarfare agents; Longevity: Immortal; Safe in High Pressure; Safe in High Radiation; Safe in Intense Cold; Safe in Intense Heat; Safe in Low Pressure/Vacuum; Self-Contained Breathing; Sleeping: Character does not sleep) (50 Active Points) 0 20 6) Immortal Resilience: Healing 1 BODY, Can Heal Limbs, Resurrection, Reduced Endurance (0 END; +1/2), Persistent (+1/2) (70 Active Points); Extra Time (Regeneration-Only) 1 Turn (Post-Segment 12) (-1 1/4), Self Only (-1/2) 0 10 Extremely Hard to KIll: +10 BODY (20 Active Points); No Figured Characteristics (-1/2), Only to Stave Off Point of Death (-1/2) 5 Supertough Form: Lack Of Weakness (-5) for Resistant Defenses 0 10 Boundless Reserves: Power Defense (10 points) 0 15 Resistant to Damage: Damage Resistance (15 PD/15 ED) 0 4 Strong Runner: Running +2" (8" total) 1 1 Powerful Swimmer: Swimming +1" (3" total) 1 2 First Aid Kit: +2 with Paramedics (4 Active Points); OIF (-1/2), Extra Time (Full Phase, Only to Activate, -1/4) Cost Talents 4 Impressive Cost Perks 3 Money: Well Off--$300,000/year Cost Martial Arts 12 Golden Age Brick Fu Maneuver Phase OCV DCV Notes Powerful Slam 1/2 +0 +1 10d6 +v/5, Target Falls Super Tough 1/2 +2 +2 Block, Abort Mighty Blow 1/2 +1 +3 10d6 Strike Cost Skills 3 Breakfall 13- 3 Climbing 13- 0 Everyman Skills AK: Munich, Germany 11- Climbing 8- Computer Programming 8- Concealment 8- Deduction 8- Paramedics 8- PS: Job 11- Shadowing 8- Stealth 8- TF: Small Ground Vehicles (Everyman) 3 Global Guardians Package (Cost: 3) Fringe Benefit: International Police Powers Criminology 12- Deduction 12- KS: Known Superhuman Criminals 13- Paramedics 12- Team Base Donation Team Communicator Hunted by Tarot 8 or less Monitored by All of the World's News Agencies 11 or less Social Limitation: Celebrity 3 Hoist 13- 11 Jack of All Trades PS: Baker 12- PS: Chef 11- PS: Cowboy 11- PS: Musician (Vocalist) 11- PS: Prospector 11- PS: Sailor 11- PS: Writer 11- 9 Linguist Language: English (idiomatic) Language: French (idiomatic) Language: German (idiomatic) Language: Italian (completely fluent) Language: Spanish (fluent conversation) 2 Navigation (Marine) 12- 5 Power: Brick Tricks 14- 3 Riding (Horses) 13- 12 Scholar KS: Accounting/Finance 11- KS: Cooking 12- KS: Fine Wines and Cuisine 11- KS: Literature 11- KS: Music 11- KS: Philosophy 11- KS: Theology 11- KS: World History 11- 2 TF: Dog Sleds, Dogs 6 Traveler AK: Canada 11- AK: Europe 11- AK: United States 11- 2 WF: Small Arms 10 +1 Overall 9 +3 with Mighty Blow, Powerful Slam, and Grab 200+ Disadvantages 10 Distinctive Features: Aura of Self-Assuredness and Confidence (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses) 10 Distinctive Features: Large and Physically Impressive (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses) 10 Hunted: Any Nazi/Cold War Villain 8- (As Pow, Harshly Punish) 15 Hunted: Any Organized Crime Family 8- (As Pow, NCI, Harshly Punish) 10 Monitored: German Intelligence Agencies 8- (Mo Pow, NCI, Watching) 20 Psychological Limitation: Code Vs. Killing (Common, Total) 15 Psychological Limitation: Fearless (Common, Strong) 10 Psychological Limitation: Feels No Need to Prove Himself (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Outsider Mentality (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Prefers Diplomacy to Force (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Self-Assured (Common, Moderate) 10 Social Limitation: Detached from Humanity (Frequently, Minor) 10 Social Limitation: Immortal Being Masquerading as a Human (Frequently, Minor) 7 Experience Points (unspent) Characteristics Cost 131 Base Points 350 Powers Cost 270 Disadvantages 150 Talents Cost 4 Experience Points Spent 0 Perks Cost 3 Total Points 500 Martial Arts Cost 12 Skills Cost 80 Total Cost 500 Concept Brick Hair Colour Blond Nationality German Eye Colour Blue Place of Birth Munich, Germany Height 1.95 m/6' 5" Date of Birth 11 June 1827 Weight 106.00 kg/234 lbs Background Born the middle child of a prosperous family in Munchen (Munich) in the year 1827, Larsson Astred had an uneventful and extremely typical childhood for the period. His father was a watchman for the local burgomeister and veteran of the Napoleonic Wars in the service of the king, and his mother spent her days helping raise him and his three siblings. The years passed uneventfully, and Lars grew up healthy and strong in the Zollverein (German Trade Confederation government of the period). He determined to follow in his father’s footsteps, so to speak, and sought to join the burgomeister’s forces himself. He was accepted, and found that he excelled at the tasks assigned him. Lars had always been stronger than his peers, hardier, and possessed of the extreme self-confidence of the young. He was growing into the pride of his family, and felt that his life was going to proceed exactly as he’d always hoped... he was wrong. ===================================================================== “Move more men over to the Barrenstrasse. The rebels may try to push through into the market district!†shouted the burgomeister, and Lars spun and dashed down the cobblestone streets shouldering his musket and praying fervently that he would not meet with the “rebelsâ€... so recently his friends and neighbors, now a bloodthirsty mob. Turning another corner with his three fellow peacekeepers, he paused and swallowed hard. The street before them was filled with angry peasants, their faces stark and unforgiving in the light of torches. “Dis... disperse at onceâ€, shouted the sergeant in a quavering voice. The mob had other ideas. With a roar, they rushed toward the four young men, only two of whom even had the opportunity to shoot. The crack of rifles only seemed to anger the rabble more, and Larsson was swallowed up in a sea of bludgeoning clubs and slashing knives and farm implements. Curling up, he cursed and waited for the end to come.... . What were they waiting for? Cries of amazement and fear caused Lars to open his eyes. Perhaps the rest of the king’s forces had arrived? He had to get free before they hurt him! Lars swung his fists with all his might at the wide eyed peasants pressed up against him... and was horrified as flesh tore and bodies flew tens of feet in response to his blows. The screaming mob fell back, horrified, and cries of “Demon! Monster!†reached his ears. Panicking, Lars hurled himself down the street, as the mob rallied and pursued seconds later... ===================================================================== Lars’s unusual nature came into evidence when he was attempting to keep the peace during the Revolutions of 1848. King Ludwig I eventually responded to the rioting and unrest of the masses by abdicating in favor of his son. Unfortunately, before this could happen, Lars was stabbed and beaten by an angry mob during the aforementioned civil unrest. The clubs and knives broke, and as he frantically lashed out with his fists, several men were badly injured and one was slain after being thrown clear through a nearby wall. The local reaction was one of quick hostility and fear; the new King Maximillian II sought him as a scapegoat and monster, and he fled into the night, never to see his family again. Uncertain of the meaning of his newfound abilities, Lars spent the next seven years wandering Europe, destitute and friendless. He discovered during this period that age held no terrors for him, and that he was (so far as he could tell) totally invulnerable to harm and possessed of tremendous physical strength. Far from embracing these abilities as gifts, he was horrified by them, and wondered for many years if he had been cursed. Tales of monsters, witchcraft, and black magical pacts were foremost in his thoughts, and his strong Lutheran upbringing convinced him that he was likely guilty of some unknown sin (likely pride), and damned. Gradually, Lars came to grips with the new powers he possessed, moving to London to begin his life anew. Starting as an assistant in a bakery near the Thames, he worked diligently and managed to set aside enough to open his own small business. Years went by as he labored and developed his new craft, baking bread for the local workers and their families. His neighbors began to comment on his ageless face after scarcely a dozen years had passed, and Lars quickly sold his business and boarded a ship to the Americas, where he hoped to lose himself in the wilds of the New World and the chaos of the post–Civil War landscape. ===================================================================== “I must go, Mary,†he said with more regret than he’d expected. Lars hadn’t expected to grow so close to the young woman, and feared that she would not... could not understand his reasons for this abrupt departure. The tears and sorrow would turn to anger and recriminations later, he was sure, and she would be better for his leaving. What man worthy of the name would burden a woman with the secrets he bore? “I am seeking my fortune in the Americas, and I fear that you would... you would only slow me down.†There. That would rouse her ire and ease the pain of his departure. This scene was predictable at least. He would need to take care in his relationships in the long years yet to come. It was not right to hurt those who cared for him, nor to deceive them more than his condition forced him to. Taking his bags and feigning strain under their weight, he finished up the discussion with the crying and furious woman, and then headed toward the docks. A ship waited for him there, one where he would work his passage to the New World, and he hoped, an opportunity to lose himself in the wilderness of the Americas. ===================================================================== He joined the masses of immigrants headed to the American land of promise, arriving in New York in 1867. The city was growing rapidly, an exciting melting pot of commerce and innovation, largely untouched by the recent Civil War. Lars invested his capital in education and his ongoing pursuit of meaning, quickly finding himself destitute once more. He worked for several years as a laborer on the docks, and then drifted into one of the many rapidly booming banking firms as a clerk. Another decade passed, and once more those around him began to eye his unchanging features with unease. Lars converted his savings into ready coin and headed west to seek his fortune in the great wilderness, hoping to find peace in anonymity. ===================================================================== “Ha! Son, you take to this work like you was born to it!†shouted the grizzled trail boss as he rode past in a cloud of dust and grit. Lars smiled at the compliment, so rare from the hard-working men he was learning from, and pulled the reins on his horse. Hundreds of cattle thundered past, a slow river of animal fury, and he wiped dust from his forehead with his bandanna. Peering along the trail, he leaned back in his saddle and took a moment to enjoy the spectacular vista spreading out before him. Then he spurred his steed into motion with a “Ha!†of his own... there was work to do. ===================================================================== Traveling westward through the heart of the Americas on the new cross-continental railroad, Lars found his way into work as a cowboy in the expansive Southwest in 1883. A journey that would have taken months now took less than a week, and he marveled (with the world) at the implications of this for the vastness of the American frontier. He spent his days learning horsemanship and managing the cattle during the long cattle drives, his nights cooking and sleeping under the brilliant stars. Years rolled past, and he traveled extensively throughout the region, avoiding long stays and close friendships to spare himself the inevitable pain of rejection. Finally, when enjoying a stay in Sacramento, he heard of a new frontier and adventure in the frozen north. Booking ship from San Francisco, Lars traveled to the Klondike in search of riches and new vistas in 1898. ====================================================================== Lars and Jack sat by the fire in the saloon, water dripping slowly off their boots as they sipped whiskey and gazed into the flames. Jack had been silent since Lars dragged him back from the snowy wastes, thoughtful but not afraid. He had to have seen. Lars waited quietly, sipping his whiskey. “Man can’t do what you did out there,†grunted Jack. “I saw the rocks falling down the face, tons of snow and rocks. We should be dead.†Lars nodded, “Would you rather we were? I’m still the same man you’ve known these past months, Jackâ€. Jack grunted, “No, I don’t think I ever did truly know you. How can you walk around with us, looking like us, seeing what we are and being able to do what you can do? I don’t understand it. Goes against nature, like a wolf choosing to run with dogs.†He shook his head. “Don’t think I’ll ever understand it.†He looked at Lars long and hard, and Lars waited as the water dripped. “...Damned if I’m not glad you’re my friend though,†muttered the prospector, draining his whiskey. “Let’s get some rest, We got a claim to stake tomorrow.†Lars grinned and nodded, then headed off to bed. ==================================================================== Lars worked as a prospector for several years, meeting the likes of “Stillwater†Bill Gates and Jack London as he roamed the rugged landscape. He lost more wealth than he gained, but considered it a bargain in the face of the beauty he saw, the company he kept, and the opportunity to learn more of those who he shared the planet with. Lars began to wonder if he could truly be considered “human†at all as his strength continued to exceed his expectations year by year, and the limits of his invulnerability proved impervious to the incredible cold, the weapons of claim jumpers, and rock fall. Traveling back across the country over the next ten years, Lars spent a half dozen years living off his savings in Chicago. He felt a longing to return to the land of his childhood, and left America in 1911 to travel across the ocean back to Europe, and France. He worked in a boulangerie and as a writer, growing fond of the city of Lyons and her people and traveling often to Paris to bask in the culture and sophistication found there. This affection was returned with hostility when war broke out between France and Germany, igniting a conflagration that spread across the continent. Sickened by his experiences with killing and death, Lars fled rather than harm those who had been his friends and neighbors. ====================================================================== Lars ran through the snowy passes, forcing his way through the packed snow with ease. His pursuers could not follow him for months, and he drew a shuddering and angry breath. Death, always death and fear and war. He stumbled, and stopped. Drawing another deep breath in the frozen chill, he looked around. Lost. This was just perfect. A distant sound caught his ears, the tolling of a bell. Here? Lars turned and forged onward towards the sound, peering into the perfect white glare as he sought refuge from the frozen waste around him. Rounding a bend in the mountain pass, a stone manor perched on the mountain side caught his gaze. He strode onward. A house of God, a place of refuge in these times of war and horror. Perhaps there he would find the peace he so desperately sought... ==================================================================== Fleeing through the passes in the Alps, Lars found refuge in a Swiss monastery. He retreated from the world for the duration of the First World War, appalled at the level of carnage and destruction. The monks never questioned their strange guest, though they surely noticed many odd things about him. He joined them in cloister and prayer, pondering the events of his long life and concluding with the assistance of this brotherhood that his concerns about damnation and sin were misplaced. After the war, a contemplative Lars returned to Germany for the first time in more than half a century. ====================================================================== “Get out off my way, you stinking German pig,†barked the French lieutenant. Larsson stepped aside, muttering apologies as the Frenchman strode past. This was not what he’d expected. His countrymen were a humbled and occupied people, the French forces harsh and arbitrary. Anger simmered under the surface, waiting a spark to erupt. No, he could not stay here. The faces of the people were polite, but the rage they felt would turn on those different from them. He had seen this before, on the faces of the mob those years past in Munchen. His homeland was closed to him, at least for now. ===================================================================== The Weimar Republic chafed under humiliating terms of their enforced peace settlement. Though the countryside was familiar, and these were his people, Lars was astonished at the anger that seethed beneath the veneer of civility. He traveled away after only a year, uneasy with the 1923 occupation of his homeland by French and Belgian forces and determined not to intervene. The next fifteen years saw Lars journeying across southern Europe, through Greece, Italy, and Spain. He worked and invested his money wisely, amassing a considerable fortune that he deposited in Swiss banks noted for their confidentiality and quiet deference to their customers. Lars held numerous occupations during this time, continuing to write voraciously and working as a sailor out of several Mediterranean ports. Then, in 1938, the darkness that was growing in his homeland erupted across the face of Europe. ==================================================================== The Tiger tanks rolled forward, their great guns blazing as they moved through the ruined French village. Allied forces fell back, casualties dragged along on improvised litters. A figure stepped out from behind a crumbling church, looked down on the still form of a small girl who had been caught in this conflict, and began walking up hill towards the half dozen armored vehicles. The German troops laughed at the madman and the unit commander ordered him shot. The bullet struck the man without effect. A fusillade of weapons fire followed, and the man continued on his path, now only a dozen yards from the tanks. Eyes wide with fear, the soldiers opened fire with all their weapons as the man reached out and grasped the nearest tank’s front with both hands. “Turn back,†grated Lars as he suddenly was limned in dimly glowing light, lifting the tank with a heave of his shoulders and bringing it crashing down on another one in a grinding crunch. “I don’t want to have to kill you.†More bullets tore his clothing, bouncing from his invulnerable form. A heavy shell exploded, knocking him off his feet and shredding the soldiers nearest him. Lars stood up and sprang over to another of the Tiger tanks, ripping the turret off with a groan of exertion. The remaining three tanks backed rapidly away, followed by fleeing German Army soldiery. Lars stood among the wreckage and bodies as the softly glowing light faded from his form, looked down on the still and bloody form of one of his countrymen, and wept. Wiping the tears from his face, he walked toward the Allied lines. He had stood aside for long enough... it was time to take action. ==================================================================== Lars attempted to stand aside and allow history to pass, but the quality of his character would not allow him peace. A veritable explosion of unusual beings possessed of remarkable abilities startled him, as dozens of costumed superhumans clashed in the streets of Europe’s cities. After a year of wrestling with his conscience, he joined them as “Bastion: the Living Wall,†choosing to fight against his countrymen rather than countenance what was clearly a violation of all the laws of morality. His activities were countered by various Nazi “Ubermen†and the naked evil of their vision troubled him greatly, as did what he saw amid the razed countryside of his homeland in the concentration camps. When the Great War ended, Lars abandoned his superheroic identity to return to anonymity, swearing to forsake war and death in the future. Returning to America by ocean liner, Lars took up with the nightclub scene in Boston, working as a singer and then manager and part owner of the popular Park Square nightclub “the Two O’Clock Club.†He achieved modest regional popularity as a ‘crooner’ of the era under the pseudonym “Dan Derick,†but shied away from the attention this drew and eventually sold his interest in the club to his partners. Finding the growing shift in entertainment and ever increasingly frenetic pace of the Bostonian lifestyle frustrating, he returned to Europe in the early part of 1951. Now wealthy, enjoying a life of study and travel in war-torn Europe, Lars spent a decade considering his role in the world. Could he truly be apart from “normal†men, yet dwell among them? Would he ever be accepted by the mass of humanity? He began to doubt it, as the masses of humanity turned against their costumed heroes in Russia, then China, and finally America itself. As he pondered these momentous issues, a new conflict grew between the Soviet Union and the Western World. New heroes emerged, and he once again briefly joined them in the mid-1960s, adopting the identity of “Verstockt†(Obdurate) and battling the Communist threat (and common criminals) in the streets of divided Berlin. ===================================================================== Red Hammer slammed his glowing fist into Lars’s side with all his might. The blow hurled him through the brick wall to his left, and tumbled him across the street. “So will fall all the forces of the Capitalist running-dogs!†laughed the crimson scourge of Eastern Europe. He stopped laughing when Lars stood up and dusted off his black, red, and gold uniform. “Are you done?†asked Lars in his guise as Verstockt. “I didn’t want to interrupt such a charming discourse on the plight of the common man. Not that you’d know anything about that.†He jogged a couple of steps over to the wall and looked through the hole. “Care to step outside?†With a roar, Red Hammer hurled himself through the opening, his fists blazing with crimson energy. Lars slammed his shoulder into the onrushing super-Soviet and briefly flickered with a glow of his own, connecting with a crunching finality. Red Hammer bounced hard off the unmoving hero, blood streaming from his face, and crashed into the wall. Sighing, Lars scooped him up by the front of his uniform and struck him sharply on the side of his head, rendering him unconscious. It was all so pointless. They’d just manufacture another super-insurgent in the coming weeks, or make a deal to get this one back. Lars walked towards the flashing line of lights to turn the criminal over to the politzei. Maybe the others had the right idea. Maybe it was time for him to hang up his tights... ===================================================================== Years passed, and he put away his costume as his comrades in arms faded and retired from their activities. Lars found that the Global Guardians, the Knights of Malta, and others emerged to face the menaces that plague humanity, and he returned to his studies of man and philosophy. Lars devoted the vast majority of his accumulated wealth to the betterment of humanity through a dedicated trust, setting aside only a modest annual stipend to meet his needs. Each passing year seemed to bring new marvels, new wonders of technology and science that changed the face of the globe with quicksilver speed. Journeys that would take weeks, even months or years in the days of his childhood, now were accomplished in mere hours. Lars adopted various names and identities as he traveled from country to country, from continent to continent. He spent decades in an ongoing spiritual and theological quest to understand the meaning of his strange gifts. Were his origins due to “mutation†or “magicâ€? How would he reconcile these powers with the many changes at work in the wider world? Always he would seek out quiet anonymity... wishing for the “normal life†and the camaraderie of “regular people,†departing when his immortality began to “taint†these relationships. As the years rolled onward, Lars noted the vicious nature of warfare and the casual disregard for human life that developed in the waning years of the twentieth century on a scale he had seen only during those dark years at the end of the Great War. Multiple times, nuclear detonations resulted in willful death tolls of tens or hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians in an instant; superhumans threatened whole populations with extermination and worked to act on this threat. The world was increasingly grim and dangerous for those who lived there... but moments of wonder existed as well. Earth’s status as a member of a larger interstellar community began to take shape, something utterly beyond the scope of his wildest imaginings. A true rule of international law was enforced on a planetary scale, and scientific marvels beyond his ability to truly comprehend were becoming almost commonplace. Humanity found itself sharing the globe with other sentient species, both malevolent and benign. The dizzying array of wonders and horrors was somewhat overwhelming, and Lars found himself gradually withdrawing from the frenetic pace of the modern era into solitude and contemplation. ===================================================================== The phone rang as Lars whipped eggs for his breakfast omelet. He paused, then answered. “Hello? Who is this?†“Just someone who wants to talk about your work. Didn’t want to surprise you by dropping in unannounced,†said the cool and professional voice on the other end of the line. Lars sighed, then began, “I don’t do tha...†“Five minutes, that’s all I ask. There’s lives on the line,†the voice stated tersely. “There always are, there always will be. Fine, you have five minutes. When?†A knock came from the foyer. Lars nodded, and hung up the phone. Walking to the entry area, he noted the dark Mercedes Benz parked alongside his own car, and the young woman in the entryway. “Come in. Say your piece. First, who are you with? MI-5? The CIA?†“Checkmate, Mr. Astred. And I’ve come on behalf of the German government and the United Nations to thank you for your diligence through the years, and to make you a very special offer. One I hope you’ll be interested in...†==================================================================== Lars was living a peaceful life in his villa in the northern countryside of Italy, when he received a phone call requesting his participation at an interview sponsored by the German government to join the Global Guardians. His actions during the Cold War against communist insurgents in West Berlin had been noted by the government of West Germany (and their American allies), and they had tracked him carefully in the years that followed. Startled that the current German government (and through it, Checkmate) had located him so readily (and concerned about his loss of anonymity given the events of the past fifty years), he made the appointment and went in to discuss his lack of desire for such a prominent position. What he heard changed his mind; he had an opportunity to rejoin his homeland and truly make a difference for the human race. He joined the team under the new guise of “Adamant†(based on an English translation of “Verstockt†- as unyielding, obdurate, or adamant), eschewing secrecy for the first time in decades for a higher purpose. ==================================================================== Lars sighed. “I feel rather ridiculous in these things... I always did.†“It’s part of the job. I think your new one has style,†said the nameless woman from Checkmate who’d recruited him. “Put it on, it’s time to get to work.†Lars nodded and pulled on the mask. Checking his belt, he stretched left to right in a quick twist, then right to left. “I’m ready. Which branch are you assigning me to?†“The Global Guardians, Unit 1. You’ve heard of them I assume... you’re not a total shut-in.†She smiled wryly. “Get to work, Adamant. The world needs you.†Lars nodded and flexed his hands. It would be good to help people again. He’d been away for far too long. Personality Lars is a very confident man, self assured and lacking anything remotely like a need to prove himself to anyone. He is convinced due to his years of hard experience that there is virtually nothing that can cause him lasting harm, and that he is immortal. This has resulted in both a fascination with, and a perceived distance from, “regular†people who possess a finite lifespan. Lars has continually sought to pass as “normal†throughout his 178-year life, with varying degrees of success. In recent decades, he has come to realize that although he can live among “normals,†he is never truly one of them, and has gradually shifted his focus to determine what role (if any) he has in the world around him. He lacks appreciation for contemporary popular culture, though he is not a total “shut-in,†and is somewhat prone to mildly anachronistic viewpoints and statements as a result. Lars’s upbringing instilled within him a deep sense of commitment to the law, and a sense of right and wrong. Though extremely conservative in many of his views by twenty-first century standards, he is adaptable, and has a strong sense of social justice and devotion to progressive social policies that he feels assist the mass of humanity. Due to his having witnessed the death of so many he has been close to through the slow turn of years, he has become increasingly obdurate in his opposition to killing and prefers to seek nonviolent solutions to conflict whenever possible. If confronted with a situation where violence is necessary, those who oppose him will find that Adamant does not shirk from his duty. Quote “There is quite literally nothing you can do to truly harm me... the same cannot be said in your case.†Powers Lars is incredibly resistant to harm and regenerates cellular damage at an amazing rate, and so is effectively immortal as a result. His physical strength is truly astounding when he “puts his mind to it,†exceeded only by a few beings on the planet, and he moves with surprising quickness for a man of his size and physique. Lars also has the benefit of about a hundred and fifty years’ experience traveling the world in a variety of professions (baker, banking clerk, dockworker, cowboy, writer, sailor, prospector, and theologian to name a few). His skills generally lie in areas aside from combat, as he has typically chosen to avoid battle, but years of forced experience make him capable enough in this regard if not a true expert. The limits of his resistance to damage have not been fully explored, though fire, bullets, explosives, falling masonry, freezing, and drowning have all failed to appreciably harm him. He tends to rely on this overmuch, assuming based on these experiences that because he “has not been harmed†means he “cannot be harmed,†with occasionally embarrassing results. During the raging warfare of World War II, Lars discovered that his already impressive abilities of strength and invulnerability could be augmented when he focused his attention on a specific application. By focusing his efforts in this manner, he can draw on inner reserves of power to increase his great strength to truly astonishing levels, become truly impervious to physical harm, or recover nearly instantly from fatigue and the most potent of blows. Using these abilities does not detract from his existing arsenal of talents, but it appears that he may not so enhance more than one of his abilities at a time (and this originally caused him to glow faintly when directly enhancing his strength or invulnerability, something his rather eccentric colleague on the Global Guardians, the scientific prodigy Dr. Archeville, described as “quantum leakage from a hyper spatial anomalous psychic discharge occurring at a subatomic level,†whatever that’s supposed to mean). Working diligently, he’s been making an attempt to control this visible effect of his power with modest success, as he now can consciously determine whether or not he “glows†when increasing his strength… though his invulnerability augmentation still causes him to do so regardless of desire or intent. He has developed in the years since this discovery several tactical applications for his superhuman strength, which he employs when it proves necessary, hurling small objects (such as the 3/4†diameter steel shipyard hull rivets he typically carries on his person) with great force and crashing through concrete walls with equal facility. Despite this formidable arsenal of talents, his historic avoidance of conflict is telling in a general lack of originality and expertise when engaged in battle... Lars has relied on the power of his abilities rather than his expertise in their use, and so has not developed the broad array of strength-based applications some others of comparable might may have at their disposal. Adamant’s powers are do not appear to be magical in origin, and are rather likely the result of a rare expression of the meta-gene prior to the “Tunguska Meteor Event†in 1908, though he is uncertain from where they originate and has not even been able to determine that this is truly the case to his satisfaction. Ultimately however, this is only important in terms of the “sfx†- and Adamant’s ongoing efforts to discover the truth about himself and his origins (and so is completely subject to the whims of the GM, should he care to weigh in on the subject). Note that his invulnerable nature makes it difficult for him to pursue scientific inquiry regarding his abilities, as most laboratories have difficulty even getting a blood sample from him (as this would take a 2x penetrating HKA or something of that nature), and his flesh is impervious to radiation (including, but not limited to P.E.T. scans and X-rays). Also, his efforts to conceal his true identity from the masses of humanity around him cause him to avoid those institutions that could readily ascertain these sorts of things about his nature. Appearance Lars is a handsome, powerfully built man of Germanic descent in his physical prime (appearing to be in his mid-twenties, his face untouched by the ravages of time). He’s tall and broad-shouldered, and stands out in a crowd with his quiet sense of complete self-confidence. Lars’s blond hair is straight, and generally cut short and slicked down in a 1950s conservative hairstyle. He often smiles, but rarely laughs, and is at ease when around others. He wears dark suits and black or blue ties in “civilian identity.†When in his “work clothes,†Adamant dresses in a dark blue bodysuit with a white half mask; the trim, gloves, and boots are also white. A hand-sized, white depiction of the official emblem of the United Nations is placed on the upper left quadrant of his chest (much the same location as a police officer’s badge). He has heavy boots and a durable belt with numerous pouches (often used to carry items he’d find useful in the field, such as a first aid kit, various thrown projectiles, and the like). Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) [OOC: Note that Verstockt (stubborn) is a pretty pejorative term (as has been pointed out to me recently by Roter Baron). He didn't pick it, it was a label given him by the Soviet-bloc supers of the time that just stuck.] Verstockt Larsson Astred Cost Characteristic Value Roll Notes 40 STR 75 24- Lift: 819.2tons; Dice: HTH Damage 15d6 END [7] 24 DEX 18 13- OCV 6 DCV 6 0 CON 25 14- 4 BODY 12 11- 3 INT 13 12- PER Roll 12- 2 EGO 11 11- ECV: 4 10 PRE 20 13- PRE Attack: 4d6 2 COM 14 12- 5 PD 30 30 PD (30 rPD) 10 ED 30 30 ED (30 rED) 22 SPD 5 Mental Defense: 0 0 REC 30 Phases: 3, 5, 8, 10, 12 0 END 50 Running: 8" (16" NC) 1 STUN 51 Swimming: 3" (6" NC) Cost Powers END 40 Brick Tricks: Multipower, 40-point reserve 1u 1) Just Catching My Breath: +15 REC (30 Active Points); Only When Character Takes A Full Phase Recovery (-1) 3u 2) Stands At Ground Zero Unharmed!: Desolidification (affected by Drains And Transfers) (40 Active Points); Cannot Pass Through Solid Objects (-1/2) 4 2u 3) Strong Like You've Read About: +25 STR (25 Active Points); No Figured Characteristics (-1/2) 2 15 Invulnerable Body: Elemental Control, 30-point powers 45 1) Invulnerable: (Total: 60 Active Cost, 60 Real Cost) Energy Damage Reduction, Resistant, 50% (Real Cost: 30) plus Physical Damage Reduction, Resistant, 50% (Real Cost: 30) 0 41 2) Even More Invulnerable: Armor (15 PD/15 ED), Hardened (+1/4) (56 Active Points) 0 15 3) Incredibly Hardy: +15 CON (30 Active Points) 35 4) Impervious To The Environment: Life Support (Eating: Character does not eat; Immunity All terrestrial poisons and chemical warfare agents; Immunity: All terrestrial diseases and biowarfare agents; Longevity: Immortal; Safe in High Pressure; Safe in High Radiation; Safe in Intense Cold; Safe in Intense Heat; Safe in Low Pressure/Vacuum; Self-Contained Breathing; Sleeping: Character does not sleep) (50 Active Points) 0 5 5) Immortal Resilience: Healing 1 BODY, Reduced Endurance (0 END; +1/2), Persistent (+1/2) (20 Active Points); Extra Time (Regeneration-Only) 1 Turn (Post-Segment 12) (-1 1/4), Self Only (-1/2) 0 8 Boundless Reserves: Power Defense (8 points) 0 15 Resistant to Damage: Damage Resistance (15 PD/15 ED) 0 4 Strong Runner: Running +2" (8" total) 1 1 Powerful Swimmer: Swimming +1" (3" total) 1 Cost Talents 4 Impressive Cost Perks 5 Money: Well Off ($500,000 Annually) Cost Martial Arts Maneuver Phase OCV DCV Notes 12 Golden Age Hero Brick-Fu Mighty Blow 1/2 +1 +3 15d6 Strike Powerful Slam 1/2 +0 +1 15d6 +v/5, Target Falls Super-Tough 1/2 +2 +2 Block, Abort Cost Skills 3 +1 with 'Mighty Blow', 'Powerful Slam', and Grab 3 Breakfall 13- 3 Climbing 13- 0 Everyman Skills (Cost: 0 Points) Acting 8- AK: Munich, Germany 11- Climbing 8- Computer Programming 8- Concealment 8- Conversation 8- Deduction 8- Paramedics 8- Persuasion 8- PS: Hero 11- Shadowing 8- Stealth 8- TF: Custom Adder, Small Motorized Ground Vehicles 3 Hoist 13- 8 Jack of All Trades PS: Baker (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Chef (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Cowboy (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Musician (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Prospector (2 Active Points) 11- 9 Linguist Language: German (idiomatic) (4 Active Points) Language: English (idiomatic) (4 Active Points) Language: French (idiomatic) (4 Active Points) Language: Italian (completely fluent) (3 Active Points) Language: Spanish (fluent conversation) (2 Active Points) 5 Power: Brick Tricks 14- 3 Riding 13- 11 Scholar KS: Accounting/Finance (2 Active Points) 11- KS: Cooking (3 Active Points) 12- KS: Literature (2 Active Points) 11- KS: Music (2 Active Points) 11- KS: Philosophy (2 Active Points) 11- KS: Theology (2 Active Points) 11- KS: World History (2 Active Points) 11- 1 TF: Dog Sleds 2 WF: Small Arms 6 Traveler AK: Canada (2 Active Points) 11- AK: Europe (2 Active Points) 11- AK: United States (2 Active Points) 11- 200+ Disadvantages 10 Distinctive Features: Large And Physically Impressive (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses) 10 Distinctive Features: Tangible Aura of Self-Confidence (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses) 10 Hunted: A Floating Group Of Cold War Supervillains And Left-Over WWII Era Bad Guys 8- (As Pow, Harshly Punish) 15 Hunted: A Floating Group of Communist Bloc Supervillains 11- (As Pow, Harshly Punish) 15 Monitored: German Intelligence Agencies 11- (Mo Pow, NCI, Watching) 20 Psychological Limitation: Code vs. Killing (Common, Total) 15 Psychological Limitation: Fearless (Common, Strong) 10 Psychological Limitation: Feels No Need To Prove Himself (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Outsider Mentality (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Prefers Diplomacy to Force (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Self-Assured (Common, Moderate) 10 Social Limitation: Immortal Being Masquerading as a Human (Frequently, Minor) 5 Social Limitation: Detached from Humanity (Occasionally, Minor) 6 Experience Points Characteristics Cost 123 Base Points 275 Powers Cost 230 Disadvantages 150 Talents Cost 4 Experience Points Spent 6 Perks Cost 5 Total Points 431 Martial Arts Cost 12 Skills Cost 57 Total Cost 431 Affiliation None (Solo Hero) Concept Brick Hair Color Blonde Nationality German Eye Color Blue Place of Birth Munich, Germany Height 1.95 m/6' 5" Date of Birth 11 June 1827 Weight 107.00 kg/236 lbs Background Born the middle child of a prosperous family in Munchen (Munich) in the year 1827, Larsson Astred had an uneventful and extremely typical childhood for the period. His father was a watchman for the local Burgomeister and veteran of the Napoleonic Wars in the service of the King, and his mother spent her days helping raise him and his three siblings. The years passed uneventfully, and Lars grew up healthy and strong in the Zollverein (German Trade Confederation government of the period). He determined to follow in his father's footsteps, so to speak, and sought to join the Burgomeister's forces himself. He was accepted, and found that he excelled at the tasks assigned him. Lars had always been stronger than his peers, more hardy, and possessed of the extreme self-confidence of the young. He was growing into the pride of his family, and felt that his life was going to proceed exactly as he'd always hoped... he was wrong. ===================================================================== "Move more men over to the Barrenstrasse, the rebels may try to push through into the market district!" shouted the Burgomeister, and Lars spun and dashed down the cobblestone streets shouldering his musket and praying fervently that he would not meet with the 'rebels'... so recently his friends and neighbors, now a bloodthirsty mob. Turning another corner with his three fellow peacekeepers, he paused and swallowed hard. The street before them was filled with angry peasants, their faces stark and unforgiving in the light of torches. "Dis... disperse at once", shouted the Sergeant in a quavering voice. The mob had other ideas. With a roar they rushed towards the four young men, only two of which even had the opportunity to shoot. The crack of rifles only seemed to anger the rabble more, and Larsson was swallowed up in a sea of bludgeoning clubs and slashing knives and farm implements. Curling up he cursed and waited for the end to come.... . What were they waiting for? Cries of amazement and fear caused Lars to open his eyes. Perhaps the rest of the King's forces had arrived? He had to get free before they hurt him! Lars swung his fists with all his might at the wide eyed peasants pressed up against him... and was horrified as flesh tore and bodies flew tens of feet in response to his blows. The screaming mob fell back, horrified, and cries of "Demon! Monster!" reached his ears. Panicking, Lars hurled himself down the street, as the mob rallied and pursued seconds later... ===================================================================== Lars's unusual nature came into evidence when he was attempting to keep the peace during the Revolutions of 1848. King Ludwig I eventually responded to the rioting and unrest of the masses by abdicating in favor of his son. Unfortunately, before this could happen, Lars was stabbed and beaten by an angry mob during the aforementioned civil unrest. The clubs and knives broke, and as he frantically lashed out with his fists several men were badly injured and one was slain after being thrown clear through a nearby wall. The local reaction was one of quick hostility and fear, the new King Maximillian II sought him as a scapegoat and monster, and he fled into the night - never to see his family again. Uncertain of the meaning of his new found abilities, Lars spent the next seven years wandering Europe, destitute and friendless. He discovered during this period that age held no terrors for him, and that he was (so far as he could tell) totally invulnerable to harm and possessed of tremendous physical strength. Far from embracing these abilities as gifts, he was horrified by them, and wondered for many years if he had been cursed. Tales of monsters, witchcraft, and black magical pacts were foremost in his thoughts, and his strong Lutheran upbringing convinced him that he was likely guilty of some unknown Sin (likely Pride), and damned. Gradually, Lars came to grips with the new powers he possessed, moving to London to begin his life anew. Starting as an assistant in a bakery near the Thames, he worked diligently and managed to set aside enough to open his own small business. Years went by as he labored and developed his new craft, baking bread for the local workers and their families. His neighbors began to comment on his ageless face after scarcely a dozen years had passed, and Lars quickly sold his business and boarded a ship to the Americas where he hoped to lose himself in the wilds of the New World and the chaos of the post-Civil War landscape. ===================================================================== "I must go Mary", he said with more regret than he'd expected. Lars hadn't expected to grow so close to the young woman, and feared that she would not... could not understand his reasons for this abrupt departure. The tears and sorrow would turn to anger and recriminations later, he was sure, and she would be better for his leaving. What man worthy of the name would burden a woman with the secrets he bore? "I am seeking my fortune in the Americas, and I fear that you would... you would only slow me down", there, that would rouse her ire and ease the pain of his departure. This scene was predictable at least. He would need to take care in his relationships in the long years yet to come. It was not right to hurt those who care for him, nor to deceive them more than his condition forced him to do so. Taking his bags and feigning strain under their weight, he finished up the discussion with the crying and furious woman, and then headed towards the docks. A ship waited for him there, one where he would work his passage to the New World, and he hoped, an opportunity to lose himself in the wilderness of the Americas. ===================================================================== Arriving in New York, he joined the masses of immigrants headed to the American land of promise in 1867. The city was rapidly growing, an exciting melting pot of commerce and innovation, largely untouched by the recent Civil War. Lars invested his capital into education and his ongoing pursuit of meaning, quickly finding himself destitute once more. He worked for several years as a laborer on the docks, and then drifted into one of the many rapidly booming banking firms as a clerk. Another decade passed, and once more those around him began to eye his unchanging features with unease. Lars converted his savings into ready coin and headed West to seek his fortune in the great wilderness, hoping to find peace in anonymity. ===================================================================== "Ha! Son, you take to this work like you was born to it!", shouted the grizzled trail boss as he rode past in a cloud of dust and grit. Lars smiled at the compliment, so rare from the hard working men he was learning from, and pulled the reins on his horse. Hundreds of cattle thundered past, a slow river of animal fury, and he wiped dust from his forehead with his bandanna. Peering along the trail, he leaned back in his saddle and took a moment to enjoy the spectacular vista spreading out before him. Then spurred his steed into motion with a 'HA!' of his own... there was work to do. ===================================================================== Traveling westward, through the heart of the Americas on the new cross-continental railroad, Lars found his way into work as a cowboy in the expansive Southwest in 1883. A journey that would have taken months, now took less than a week, and he marveled (with the world) at the implications of this for the vastness of the American frontier. He spent his days learning horsemanship and managing the cattle during the long cattle-drives, his nights cooking and sleeping under the brilliant stars. Years rolled past, and he traveled extensively throughout the region, avoiding long stays and close friendships to spare himself the inevitable pain of rejection. Finally, when enjoying a stay in Sacramento, he heard of a new frontier and adventure in the frozen north. Booking ship from San Francisco, Lars traveled to the Klondike in search of riches and new vistas in 1898. ====================================================================== Lars and Jack sat by the fire in the saloon, water dripping slowly off their boots as they sipped whiskey and gazed into the flames. Jack had been silent since Lars dragged him back from the snowy wastes, thoughtful but not afraid. He had to have seen. Lars waited quietly, sipping his whiskey. "Man can't do what you did out there", grunted Jack. I saw the rocks falling down the face, tons of snow and rocks. We should be dead." Lars nodded, "Would you rather we were? I'm still the same man you've known these past months Jack". Jack grunted, "No, I don't think I ever did truly know you. How can you walk around with us, looking like us, seeing what we are and being able to do what you can do? I don't understand it. Goes against nature, like a wolf choosing to run with dogs." He shook his head. "Don't think I'll ever understand it." He looked at Lars long and hard, and Lars waited as the water dripped. "...Damned if I'm not glad you're my friend though", muttered the prospector then drained his whiskey. "Let's get some rest, we got a claim to stake tomorrow". Lars grinned and nodded, then headed off to bed. ==================================================================== Lars worked as a prospector for several years, meeting the likes of "Stillwater" Bill Gates and Jack London as he roamed the rugged landscape. He lost more wealth than he gained, but considered it a bargain in the face of the beauty he saw, the company he kept, and the opportunity to learn more of those who he shared the planet with. Lars began to wonder if he could truly be considered 'human' at all as his strength's might continued to exceed his expectations year by year, and the limits of his invulnerability proved impervious to the incredible cold, the weapons of claim jumpers, and rock fall. Traveling back across the country over the next ten years, Lars spent a half dozen years living off his savings in Chicago. He felt a longing to return to the land of his childhood, and left America in 1911 to travel across the ocean back to Europe, and France. He worked in a boulangerie and as a writer, growing fond of the city of Lyons and her people and traveling often to Paris to bask in the culture and sophistication found there. This affection was returned with hostility when war broke out between France and Germany, igniting a conflagration that spread across the continent. Sickened by his experiences with killing and death, Lars fled rather than harm those who had been his friends and neighbors. ====================================================================== Lars ran through the snowy passes, forcing his way through the packed snow with ease. His pursuers could not follow him for months, and he drew a shuddering and angry breath. Death, always death and fear and war. He stumbled, and stopped. Drawing another deep breath in the frozen chill, he looked around. Lost. This was just perfect. A distant sound caught his ears, the tolling of a bell. Here? Lars turned and forged onward towards the sound, peering into the perfect white glare as he sought refuge from the frozen waste around him. Rounding a bend in the mountain pass, a stone manor perched on the mountain side caught his gaze. He strode onward. A house of God, a place of refuge in these times of war and horror. Perhaps there he would find the peace he so desperately sought... ==================================================================== Fleeing through the passes in the Alps, Lars found refuge in a Swiss monastery. He retreated from the world for the duration of the First World War, appalled at the level of carnage and destruction. The monks never questioned their strange guest, though they surely noticed many odd things about him. He joined them in cloister and prayer, pondering the events of his long life and concluding with the assistance of this brotherhood that his concerns about damnation and sin were misplaced. After the war, a contemplative Lars returned to Germany for the first time in more than half a century. ====================================================================== "Get out off my way, you stinking German pig", barked the French Lieutenant. Larsson stepped aside, muttering apologies as the Frenchman strode past. This was not what he'd expected. His countrymen were a humbled and occupied people, the French forces harsh and arbitrary. Anger simmered under the surface, waiting a spark to erupt. No, he could not stay here. The faces of the people were polite, but the rage they felt would turn on those different from them. He had seen this before, on the faces of the mob those years past in Munchen. His homeland was closed to him, at least for now. ===================================================================== The Weimar Republic chafed under humiliating terms of their enforced peace settlement. Though the countryside was familiar, and these were his people, Lars was astonished at the anger which seethed beneath the veneer of civility. He traveled away after only a year, uneasy with the 1923 occupation of his homeland by French and Belgian forces and determined not to intervene. The next fifteen years saw Lars journeying across southern Europe, through Greece, Italy, and Spain. He worked and invested his money wisely, amassing a considerable fortune which he deposited in Swiss banks noted for their confidentiality and quiet deference to their customers. Lars held numerous occupations during this time, continuing to write voraciously and working as a sailor out of several Mediterranean ports. Then, in 1938, the darkness that was growing in his homeland erupted across the face of Europe. ==================================================================== The Panzer Tanks rolled forward, their great guns blazing as they moved through the ruined French village. Allied forces fell back, casualties dragged along on improvised litters. A figure stepped out from behind a crumbling church, looked down on the still form of a small girl who had been caught in this conflict, and began walking up hill towards the half dozen armored vehicles. The German troops laughed at the madman and the unit commander ordered him shot. The bullet struck the man without effect. A fusillade of weapons fire followed, and the man continued on his path, now only a dozen yards from the tanks. Eyes wide with fear, the soldiers opened fire with all their weapons as the man reached out and grasped the nearest tank's front with both hands. "Turn back", grated Lars as he suddenly was limned in dimly glowing light, lifting the tank with a heave of his shoulders and bringing it crashing down on another one in a grinding crunch. "I don't want to have to kill you." More bullets tore his clothing, bouncing from his invulnerable form. A heavy shell exploded, knocking him off his feet and shredding the soldiers nearest him. Lars stood up and sprang over to another of the Panzer Tanks, ripping the turret off with a groan of exertion. The remaining three tanks backed rapidly away, followed by fleeing German Army soldiery. Lars stood among the wreckage and bodies as the softly glowing light faded from his form, looked down on the still and bloody form of one of his countrymen, and wept. Wiping the tears from his face, he walked towards the Allied lines. He had stood aside for long enough... it was time to take action. ==================================================================== Lars attempted to stand aside and allow history to pass, but the quality of his character would not allow him peace. A veritable explosion of unusual beings possessed of remarkable abilities startled him, as dozens of costumed superhumans clashed in the streets of Europe's cities. After a year of wrestling with his conscience he joined them as 'Bastion: the Living Wall', choosing to fight against his countrymen rather than countenance what was clearly a violation of all the laws of morality. His activities were countered by various Nazi 'Ubermen' and the naked evil of their vision troubled him greatly, as did what he saw amid the razed countryside of his homeland in the concentration camps. When the Great War ended, Lars abandoned his superheroic identity to return to anonymity, swearing to forsake war and death in the future. Returning to America by ocean liner, Lars took up with the nightclub scene in Boston, working as a singer and then manager and part owner of the popular Park Square nightclub 'the Two O'Clock Club'. He achieved modest regional popularity as a 'crooner' of the era under the pseudonym 'Dan Derick', but shied away from the attention this drew and eventually sold his interest in the club to his partners. Finding the growing shift in entertainment and ever increasingly frenetic pace of the Bostonian lifestyle frustrating, he returned to Europe in the early part of 1951. Now wealthy, enjoying a life of study and travel in war-torn Europe, Lars spent a decade considering his role in the world. Could he truly be apart from 'normal' men, yet dwell among them? Would he ever be accepted by the mass of humanity? He began to doubt it, as the masses of humanity turned against their costumed heroes in Russia, then China, and finally America itself. As he pondered these momentous issues, a new conflict grew between the Soviet Union and the Western World. New heroes emerged, and he once again joined them in the mid 1960s - adopting the identity of 'Verstockt' (Obdurate or Unyielding) and battling the communist threat (and common criminals) in the streets of divided Berlin. Personality Lars is a very confident man, self assured and lacking anything remotely like a need to prove himself to anyone. He is convinced due to his years of hard experience that there is virtually nothing that can cause him lasting harm, and that he is immortal. This has resulted in both a fascination with, and a perceived distance from, 'regular' people who possess a finite lifespan. Lars has continually sought to pass as 'normal' throughout his 148 year life, with varying degrees of success. In recent decades, he has come to suspect that although he can live among 'normals', he is never truly one of them, and has gradually shifted his focus to determine what role (if any) he has in the world around him. He lacks appreciation for contemporary popular culture, though he is not a total 'shut-in', and is somewhat prone to mildly anachronistic viewpoints and statements as a result. Lars' upbringing instilled within him a deep sense of commitment to the law, and a sense of right and wrong. Though extremely conservative in many of his views by twenty-first century standards, he is adaptable, and has a strong sense of social justice and devotion to progressive social policies that he feels assist the mass of humanity. Due to his having witnessed the death of so many he has been close to through the slow turn of years (particularly during the brutal fighting of World War 2), he has become increasingly obdurate in his opposition to killing and prefers to seek nonviolent solutions to conflict whenever possible. If confronted with a situation where violence is necessary, those who oppose him will find that Verstockt does not shirk from his duty. Quote "There is quite literally nothing you can do to truly harm me... the same cannot be said in your case." Powers Lars is incredibly resistant to harm and regenerates cellular damage at an amazing rate, and so is effectively immortal as a result. His physical strength is truly astounding when he ‘puts his mind to it’, exceeded only by a few beings on the planet, and he moves with surprising quickness for a man of his size and physique. Lars also has the benefit of about a hundred and fifty years' experience traveling the world in a variety of professions (baker, banking clerk, dockworker, cowboy, sailor, prospector, and theologian to name a few). His skills generally lie in areas aside from combat, as he has typically chosen to avoid battle, but years of forced experience make him capable enough in this regard if not a true expert. The limits of his resistance to damage have not been fully explored, though fire, bullets, explosives, falling masonry, freezing, and drowning have all failed to appreciably harm him. He tends to rely on this overmuch, assuming based on these experiences that because he 'has not been harmed' means he 'cannot be harmed', with occasionally embarrassing results. During the raging warfare of World War II, Lars discovered that his already impressive abilities of strength and invulnerability could be augmented when he focused his attention on a specific application. By focusing his efforts in this manner, he can draw on inner reserves of power to increase his great strength to truly astonishing levels, become truly impervious to physical harm, or recover nearly instantly from fatigue and the most potent of blows. Using these abilities does not detract from his existing arsenal of talents, but it appears that he may not so enhance more than one of his abilities at a time (and this causes him to glow faintly when directly enhancing his strength or invulnerability). Despite this formidable arsenal of talents, his historic avoidance of conflict is telling in a general lack of originality and expertise when engaged in battle... Lars has relied on the power of his abilities rather than his expertise in their use, and so has not developed the broad array of strength based applications some others of comparable might may have at their disposal. Verstockt's powers are do not appear to be magical in origin, and are rather likely the result of a rare expression of the meta-gene prior to the 'Tunguska Meteor Event' in 1908, though he is uncertain from where they originate and has not even been able to determine that this is truly the case to his satisfaction. Ultimately however, this is only important in terms of the 'sfx' - and Verstockt's ongoing (and invariably fruitless) efforts to discover the truth about himself and his origins. Note that his invulnerable nature makes it difficult for him to pursue scientific inquiry regarding his abilities, as most laboratories have difficulty even getting a blood sample from him (as this would take a 2x penetrating HKA or something of that nature), and his flesh is impervious to radiation (including but not limited to P.E.T. scans and X-Rays). Also, his efforts to conceal his true identity from the masses of humanity around him cause him to avoid those institutions that could readily ascertain these sorts of things about his nature. Appearance Lars is a handsome, powerfully built man of Germanic descent in his physical prime (appearing to be in his mid-twenties, his face untouched by the ravages of time). He's tall and broad-shouldered, and stands out in a crowd with his quiet sense of complete self-confidence. Lars's blond hair is straight, and generally cut short and slicked down in a 1950s conservative hairstyle. He often smiles but rarely laughs, and is at ease when around others. He wears dark suits and black or blue ties in 'civilian identity'. When in his 'work clothes', Verstockt dresses in a bodysuit with half mask, with three distinct zones of color. Gold Boots and legs, crimson trunks and midsection, and black upper torso and mask match the color scheme of the FDR national flag. A hand-sized depiction of the official coat-of-arms of Germany is placed on the upper left quadrant of his chest (much the same location as a police officer's badge). Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Bastion The Living Wall Larrson Astred Cost Characteristic Value Roll Notes 40 STR 50/60 21- Lift: 51.2/102.4tons; Dice: HTH Damage 10d6/12d6 END [5/6] 24 DEX 18 13- OCV 6 DCV 6 0 CON 25 14- 4 BODY 12 11- 3 INT 13 12- PER Roll 12- 2 EGO 11 11- ECV: 4 10 PRE 20 13- PRE Attack: 4d6 2 COM 14 12- 5 PD 15/30 15/30 PD (15/30 rPD) 10 ED 15/30 15/30 ED (15/30 rED) 22 SPD 5 Mental Defense: 0 0 REC 20 Phases: 3, 5, 8, 10, 12 0 END 50 Running: 8" (16" NC) 0 STUN 50 Swimming: 3" (6" NC) Cost Powers END 10 Brick Tricks: Multipower, 10-point reserve 1u 1) Just Catching My Breath: +5 REC (10 Active Points); Only When He Takes A Full Phase Recovery (-1) 1u 2) Strong Like You've Heard About: +10 STR (10 Active Points); No Figured Characteristics (-1/2) 1 15 Invulnerable Body: Elemental Control, 30-point powers 15 1) Invulnerable: Energy Damage Reduction, Resistant, 50% (30 Active Points) 0 15 2) Invulnerable: Physical Damage Reduction, Resistant, 50% (30 Active Points) 0 30 3) Even More Invulnerable: Armor (15 PD/15 ED) (45 Active Points) 0 15 4) Incredibly Hardy: +15 CON (30 Active Points) 35 5) Impervious To Environments: Life Support (Eating: Character does not eat; Immunity All terrestrial poisons and chemical warfare agents; Immunity: All terrestrial diseases and biowarfare agents; Longevity: Immortal; Safe in High Pressure; Safe in High Radiation; Safe in Intense Cold; Safe in Intense Heat; Safe in Low Pressure/Vacuum; Self-Contained Breathing; Sleeping: Character does not sleep) (50 Active Points) 0 9 6) Immortal Resilience: Healing 2 BODY, Reduced Endurance (0 END; +1/2), Persistent (+1/2) (40 Active Points); Extra Time (Regeneration-Only) 1 Turn (Post-Segment 12) (-1 1/4), Self Only (-1/2) 0 5 Boundless Reserves: Power Defense (5 points) 0 15 Resistant to Damage: Damage Resistance (15 PD/15 ED) 0 4 Strong Runner: Running +2" (8" total) 1 1 Powerful Swimmer: Swimming +1" (3" total) 1 Cost Talents 4 Impressive Cost Skills 6 +2 with Punch, Grab, or Haymaker 3 Breakfall 13- 3 Climbing 13- 0 Everyman Skills (Cost: 0 Points) Acting 8- AK: Munich, Germany 11- Climbing 8- Concealment 8- Conversation 8- Deduction 8- Paramedics 8- Persuasion 8- PS: Hero 11- Shadowing 8- Stealth 8- TF: Custom Adder, Small Motorized Ground Vehicles 3 Hoist 13- 7 Jack of All Trades PS: Baker (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Chef (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Cowboy (2 Active Points) 11- PS: Prospector (2 Active Points) 11- 9 Linguist Language: German (idiomatic) (4 Active Points) Language: English (idiomatic) (4 Active Points) Language: French (idiomatic) (4 Active Points) Language: Italian (completely fluent) (3 Active Points) Language: Spanish (fluent conversation) (2 Active Points) 3 Power: Brick Tricks 13- 3 Riding 13- 7 Scholar KS: Cooking (2 Active Points) 11- KS: Literature (2 Active Points) 11- KS: Theology (2 Active Points) 11- KS: World History (2 Active Points) 11- 1 TF: Dogsled 6 Traveler AK: Canada (2 Active Points) 11- AK: Europe (2 Active Points) 11- AK: United States (2 Active Points) 11- 2 WF: Small Arms 200+ Disadvantages 10 Distinctive Features: Aura of Self-Assuredness and Confidence (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses) 10 Distinctive Features: Large and Physically Impressive (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses) 15 Hunted: Floating Axis Powers Supervillains 8- (Mo Pow, Harshly Punish) 20 Hunted: Nazi Military and Espionage Forces 8- (Mo Pow, NCI, Harshly Punish) 20 Psychological Limitation: Code vs. Killing (Common, Total) 15 Psychological Limitation: Fearless (Common, Strong) 10 Psychological Limitation: Prefers Diplomacy to Force (Common, Moderate) 10 Psychological Limitation: Self-Assured (Common, Moderate) 15 Social Limitation: Citizen of an Unpopular Nation (Frequently, Major) 10 Social Limitation: Considered a Traitor By His Homeland (Occasionally, Major) 10 Social Limitation: Immortal Being Masquerading as a Human (Frequently, Minor) 5 Reputation: Nazi Ubermensch, 8- 0 Experience Points Characteristics Cost 122 Base Points 200 Powers Cost 171 Disadvantages 150 Talents Cost 4 Experience Points Spent 0 Perks Cost 0 Total Points 350 Martial Arts Cost 0 Skills Cost 53 Total Cost 350 Affiliation German Anti-Nazi Resistance Concept Brick Hair Color Blue Nationality German Eye Color Blonde Place of Birth Munich, Germany Height 1.95 m/6' 5" Date of Birth 11 June 1827 Weight 106.00 kg/234 lbs Background Born the middle child of a prosperous family in Munchen (Munich) in the year 1827, Larsson Astred had an uneventful and extremely typical childhood for the period. His father was a watchman for the local Burgomeister and veteran of the Napoleonic Wars in the service of the King, and his mother spent her days helping raise him and his three siblings. The years passed uneventfully, and Lars grew up healthy and strong in the Zollverein (German Trade Confederation government of the period). He determined to follow in his father's footsteps, so to speak, and sought to join the Burgomeister's forces himself. He was accepted, and found that he excelled at the tasks assigned him. Lars had always been stronger than his peers, more hardy, and possessed of the extreme self-confidence of the young. He was growing into the pride of his family, and felt that his life was going to proceed exactly as he'd always hoped... he was wrong. ===================================================================== "Move more men over to the Barrenstrasse, the rebels may try to push through into the market district!" shouted the Burgomeister, and Lars spun and dashed down the cobblestone streets shouldering his musket and praying fervently that he would not meet with the 'rebels'... so recently his friends and neighbors, now a bloodthirsty mob. Turning another corner with his three fellow peacekeepers, he paused and swallowed hard. The street before them was filled with angry peasants, their faces stark and unforgiving in the light of torches. "Dis... disperse at once", shouted the Sergeant in a quavering voice. The mob had other ideas. With a roar they rushed towards the four young men, only two of which even had the opportunity to shoot. The crack of rifles only seemed to anger the rabble more, and Larsson was swallowed up in a sea of bludgeoning clubs and slashing knives and farm implements. Curling up he cursed and waited for the end to come.... . What were they waiting for? Cries of amazement and fear caused Lars to open his eyes. Perhaps the rest of the King's forces had arrived? He had to get free before they hurt him! Lars swung his fists with all his might at the wide eyed peasants pressed up against him... and was horrified as flesh tore and bodies flew tens of feet in response to his blows. The screaming mob fell back, horrified, and cries of "Demon! Monster!" reached his ears. Panicking, Lars hurled himself down the street, as the mob rallied and pursued seconds later... ===================================================================== Lars's unusual nature came into evidence when he was attempting to keep the peace during the Revolutions of 1848. King Ludwig I eventually responded to the rioting and unrest of the masses by abdicating in favor of his son. Unfortunately, before this could happen, Lars was stabbed and beaten by an angry mob during the aforementioned civil unrest. The clubs and knives broke, and as he frantically lashed out with his fists several men were badly injured and one was slain after being thrown clear through a nearby wall. The local reaction was one of quick hostility and fear, the new King Maximillian II sought him as a scapegoat and monster, and he fled into the night - never to see his family again. Uncertain of the meaning of his new found abilities, Lars spent the next seven years wandering Europe, destitute and friendless. He discovered during this period that age held no terrors for him, and that he was (so far as he could tell) totally invulnerable to harm and possessed of tremendous physical strength. Far from embracing these abilities as gifts, he was horrified by them, and wondered for many years if he had been cursed. Tales of monsters, witchcraft, and black magical pacts were foremost in his thoughts, and his strong Lutheran upbringing convinced him that he was likely guilty of some unknown Sin (likely Pride), and damned. Gradually, Lars came to grips with the new powers he possessed, moving to London to begin his life anew. Starting as an assistant in a bakery near the Thames, he worked diligently and managed to set aside enough to open his own small business. Years went by as he labored and developed his new craft, baking bread for the local workers and their families. His neighbors began to comment on his ageless face after scarcely a dozen years had passed, and Lars quickly sold his business and boarded a ship to the Americas where he hoped to lose himself in the wilds of the New World and the chaos of the post-Civil War landscape. ===================================================================== "I must go Mary", he said with more regret than he'd expected. Lars hadn't expected to grow so close to the young woman, and feared that she would not... could not understand his reasons for this abrupt departure. The tears and sorrow would turn to anger and recriminations later, he was sure, and she would be better for his leaving. What man worthy of the name would burden a woman with the secrets he bore? "I am seeking my fortune in the Americas, and I fear that you would... you would only slow me down", there, that would rouse her ire and ease the pain of his departure. This scene was predictable at least. He would need to take care in his relationships in the long years yet to come. It was not right to hurt those who care for him, nor to deceive them more than his condition forced him to do so. Taking his bags and feigning strain under their weight, he finished up the discussion with the crying and furious woman, and then headed towards the docks. A ship waited for him there, one where he would work his passage to the New World, and he hoped, an opportunity to lose himself in the wilderness of the Americas. ===================================================================== Arriving in New York, he joined the masses of immigrants headed to the American land of promise in 1867. The city was rapidly growing, an exciting melting pot of commerce and innovation, largely untouched by the recent Civil War. Lars invested his capital into education and his ongoing pursuit of meaning, quickly finding himself destitute once more. He worked for several years as a laborer on the docks, and then drifted into one of the many rapidly booming banking firms as a clerk. Another decade passed, and once more those around him began to eye his unchanging features with unease. Lars converted his savings into ready coin and headed West to seek his fortune in the great wilderness, hoping to find peace in anonymity. ===================================================================== "Ha! Son, you take to this work like you was born to it!", shouted the grizzled trail boss as he rode past in a cloud of dust and grit. Lars smiled at the compliment, so rare from the hard working men he was learning from, and pulled the reins on his horse. Hundreds of cattle thundered past, a slow river of animal fury, and he wiped dust from his forehead with his bandanna. Peering along the trail, he leaned back in his saddle and took a moment to enjoy the spectacular vista spreading out before him. Then spurred his steed into motion with a 'HA!' of his own... there was work to do. ===================================================================== Traveling westward, through the heart of the Americas on the new cross-continental railroad, Lars found his way into work as a cowboy in the expansive Southwest in 1883. A journey that would have taken months, now took less than a week, and he marveled (with the world) at the implications of this for the vastness of the American frontier. He spent his days learning horsemanship and managing the cattle during the long cattle-drives, his nights cooking and sleeping under the brilliant stars. Years rolled past, and he traveled extensively throughout the region, avoiding long stays and close friendships to spare himself the inevitable pain of rejection. Finally, when enjoying a stay in Sacramento, he heard of a new frontier and adventure in the frozen north. Booking ship from San Francisco, Lars traveled to the Klondike in search of riches and new vistas in 1898. ====================================================================== Lars and Jack sat by the fire in the saloon, water dripping slowly off their boots as they sipped whiskey and gazed into the flames. Jack had been silent since Lars dragged him back from the snowy wastes, thoughtful but not afraid. He had to have seen. Lars waited quietly, sipping his whiskey. "Man can't do what you did out there", grunted Jack. I saw the rocks falling down the face, tons of snow and rocks. We should be dead." Lars nodded, "Would you rather we were? I'm still the same man you've known these past months Jack". Jack grunted, "No, I don't think I ever did truly know you. How can you walk around with us, looking like us, seeing what we are and being able to do what you can do? I don't understand it. Goes against nature, like a wolf choosing to run with dogs." He shook his head. "Don't think I'll ever understand it." He looked at Lars long and hard, and Lars waited as the water dripped. "...Damned if I'm not glad you're my friend though", muttered the prospector then drained his whiskey. "Let's get some rest, we got a claim to stake tomorrow". Lars grinned and nodded, then headed off to bed. ==================================================================== Lars worked as a prospector for several years, meeting the likes of "Stillwater" Bill Gates and Jack London as he roamed the rugged landscape. He lost more wealth than he gained, but considered it a bargain in the face of the beauty he saw, the company he kept, and the opportunity to learn more of those who he shared the planet with. Lars began to wonder if he could truly be considered 'human' at all as his strength's might continued to exceed his expectations year by year, and the limits of his invulnerability proved impervious to the incredible cold, the weapons of claim jumpers, and rock fall. Traveling back across the country over the next ten years, Lars spent a half dozen years living off his savings in Chicago. He felt a longing to return to the land of his childhood, and left America in 1911 to travel across the ocean back to Europe, and France. He worked in a boulangerie and as a writer, growing fond of the city of Lyons and her people and traveling often to Paris to bask in the culture and sophistication found there. This affection was returned with hostility when war broke out between France and Germany, igniting a conflagration that spread across the continent. Sickened by his experiences with killing and death, Lars fled rather than harm those who had been his friends and neighbors. ====================================================================== Lars ran through the snowy passes, forcing his way through the packed snow with ease. His pursuers could not follow him for months, and he drew a shuddering and angry breath. Death, always death and fear and war. He stumbled, and stopped. Drawing another deep breath in the frozen chill, he looked around. Lost. This was just perfect. A distant sound caught his ears, the tolling of a bell. Here? Lars turned and forged onward towards the sound, peering into the perfect white glare as he sought refuge from the frozen waste around him. Rounding a bend in the mountain pass, a stone manor perched on the mountain side caught his gaze. He strode onward. A house of God, a place of refuge in these times of war and horror. Perhaps there he would find the peace he so desperately sought... ==================================================================== Fleeing through the passes in the Alps, Lars found refuge in a Swiss monastery. He retreated from the world for the duration of the First World War, appalled at the level of carnage and destruction. The monks never questioned their strange guest, though they surely noticed many odd things about him. He joined them in cloister and prayer, pondering the events of his long life and concluding with the assistance of this brotherhood that his concerns about damnation and sin were misplaced. After the war, a contemplative Lars returned to Germany for the first time in more than half a century. ====================================================================== "Get out off my way, you stinking German pig", barked the French Lieutenant. Larsson stepped aside, muttering apologies as the Frenchman strode past. This was not what he'd expected. His countrymen were a humbled and occupied people, the French forces harsh and arbitrary. Anger simmered under the surface, waiting a spark to erupt. No, he could not stay here. The faces of the people were polite, but the rage they felt would turn on those different from them. He had seen this before, on the faces of the mob those years past in Munchen. His homeland was closed to him, at least for now. ===================================================================== The Weimar Republic chafed under humiliating terms of their enforced peace settlement. Though the countryside was familiar, and these were his people, Lars was astonished at the anger which seethed beneath the veneer of civility. He traveled away after only a year, uneasy with the 1923 occupation of his homeland by French and Belgian forces and determined not to intervene. The next fifteen years saw Lars journeying across southern Europe, through Greece, Italy, and Spain. He worked and invested his money wisely, amassing a considerable fortune which he deposited in Swiss banks noted for their confidentiality and quiet deference to their customers. Lars held numerous occupations during this time, continuing to write voraciously and working as a sailor out of several Mediterranean ports. Then, in 1938, the darkness that was growing in his homeland erupted across the face of Europe. ==================================================================== The Panzer Tanks rolled forward, their great guns blazing as they moved through the ruined French village. Allied forces fell back, casualties dragged along on improvised litters. A figure stepped out from behind a crumbling church, looked down on the still form of a small girl who had been caught in this conflict, and began walking up hill towards the half dozen armored vehicles. The German troops laughed at the madman and the unit commander ordered him shot. The bullet struck the man without effect. A fusillade of weapons fire followed, and the man continued on his path, now only a dozen yards from the tanks. Eyes wide with fear, the soldiers opened fire with all their weapons as the man reached out and grasped the nearest tank's front with both hands. "Turn back", grated Lars as he suddenly was limned in dimly glowing light, lifting the tank with a heave of his shoulders and bringing it crashing down on another one in a grinding crunch. "I don't want to have to kill you." More bullets tore his clothing, bouncing from his invulnerable form. A heavy shell exploded, knocking him off his feet and shredding the soldiers nearest him. Lars stood up and sprang over to another of the Panzer Tanks, ripping the turret off with a groan of exertion. The remaining three tanks backed rapidly away, followed by fleeing German Army soldiery. Lars stood among the wreckage and bodies as the softly glowing light faded from his form, looked down on the still and bloody form of one of his countrymen, and wept. Wiping the tears from his face, he walked towards the Allied lines. He had stood aside for long enough... it was time to take action. ==================================================================== Lars attempted to stand aside and allow history to pass, but the quality of his character would not allow him peace. A veritable explosion of unusual beings possessed of remarkable abilities startled him, as dozens of costumed superhumans clashed in the streets of Europe's cities. After almost a year of wrestling with his conscience he joined them as 'Bastion: the Living Wall', choosing to fight against his countrymen rather than countenance what was clearly a violation of all the laws of morality. His activities are countered by various Nazi 'Ubermen' and the naked evil of their vision troubles him greatly, as does what he hears rumors of amid the fertile countryside of his homeland in the concentration camps. Personality Lars is a very confident man, self assured and lacking anything remotely like a need to prove himself to anyone. He is convinced due to his years of hard experience that there is virtually nothing that can cause him lasting harm, and that he is immortal. This has resulted in both a fascination with, and a perceived distance from, 'regular' people who possess a finite lifespan. Lars has continually sought to pass as 'normal' throughout his 113 year life, with varying degrees of success. He continues to dream of a time when he can help to redeem the evils being done by his countrymen and return to a “normal†life. Lars' upbringing instilled within him a deep sense of commitment to the law, and a sense of right and wrong. Though extremely hesitant during the early years of World War 2 to oppose his countrymen openly, ultimately his strong sense of social justice and devotion to the welfare of his fellow man force his hand. Due to his having witnessed the death of so many he has been close to through the slow turn of years, he has become obdurate in his opposition to killing and prefers to seek nonviolent solutions to conflict whenever possible. If confronted with a situation where violence is necessary, those who oppose him will find that Bastion does not shirk from his duty. Quote "There is quite literally nothing you can do to truly harm me... the same cannot be said in your case." Powers Lars is incredibly resistant to harm and regenerates damage at an amazing rate, and so is effectively immortal as a result. His physical strength is truly astounding when he ‘puts his mind to it’, exceeded only by a few beings on the planet, and he moves with surprising quickness for a man of his size and physique. Lars also has the benefit of over a hundred years' experience traveling the world in a variety of professions (baker, banking clerk, dockworker, cowboy, prospector, and theologian to name a few). His skills generally lie in areas aside from combat, as he has typically chosen to avoid battle, but years of forced experience make him capable enough in this regard if not a true expert. The limits of his resistance to damage have not been fully explored, though fire, bullets, explosives, falling masonry, freezing, and drowning have all failed to appreciably harm him. He tends to rely on this overmuch, assuming based on these experiences that because he 'has not been harmed' means he 'cannot be harmed', with occasionally embarrassing results. During the raging warfare of 1940s Europe, Lars discovered that his already impressive abilities of strength and invulnerability could be augmented when he focused his attention on a specific application. By focusing his efforts in this manner, he can draw on inner reserves of power to increase his great strength to truly astonishing levels, become truly impervious to physical harm, or recover nearly instantly from fatigue and the most potent of blows. Using these abilities does not detract from his existing arsenal of talents, but it appears that he may not so enhance more than one of his abilities at a time. Working diligently, he’s been making an attempt to control the visible effect of his power with no success thus far. Despite this formidable arsenal of talents, his historic avoidance of conflict is telling in a general lack of originality and expertise when engaged in battle... Lars has relied on the power of his abilities rather than his expertise in their use, and so has not developed the broad array of strength based applications some others of comparable might may have at their disposal. Appearance Lars is a handsome, powerfully built man of Germanic descent in his physical prime (appearing to be in his mid-twenties, his face untouched by the ravages of time). He's tall and broad-shouldered, and stands out in a crowd with his quiet sense of complete self-confidence. Lars's blond hair is straight, and generally cut short in a contemporary hairstyle of the era. He often smiles but rarely laughs, and is at ease when around others. He wears dark suits and black or blue ties in 'civilian identity'. When in his 'work clothes', Bastion dresses in a dark gray bodysuit with a stylized line depicting machicolation (as in a fortress wall) across the chest (above which the costume and mask are sky blue). Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: A Trial By Fire Lars awoke to the gentle chimes of the Zurich made alarm clock, and stretched for a moment on the clean cotton sheets before rolling out of bed. Sleep was such a luxury... one he could ill afford to indulge in of late, and so even more precious. Not that slumber was truly necessary for him, but the rhythm of 'normal life' was something he strove dilligently to maintain. His itinerary was quite full, and there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Strolling to the restroom adjoining the master bedroom, he flipped on the shower and stripped off his pajamas, then plunged into the scalding spray. Completing his morning abulations, including using his titanium-carbon straight razor (and a healthy dose of super-human might) to scrape away the morning stubble from his indestructable hide, Lars selected his usual 'civilian garb' for the events of the day. Charcoal gray suit, navy blue tie, white dress shirt. There were those that claimed he wasn't dressed 'stylishly' or that his clothing was 'dated', but frankly the trends changed so swiftly from year to year he couldn't truly be bothered to care. Appropriately attired, he exited the Park Hotel suite to seek refreshment. Not that he ever felt hunger, or even truly needed to eat at all. But even after all these years, some habits died hard. Also, he liked food. Cooking it, eating it, was a very visceral, a very human experience. The sort of experience he clung to, more and more as he felt increasingly isolated by the roll of years. The brief elevator ride to the lobby was uneventful, and he had the concierge bring around his rental, tipping the man rather well for the task. Climbing behind the wheel of the midnight blue BMW, he inhaled the smells of leather and faux 'new car scent', then cautiously pulled from the green grounds of the Park Hotel into the bustling early morning traffic of Bremen. He still struggled with how the city had changed over the years... the industry and urban expansion was a startling contrast to his reminiscence of visiting the city in his youth. Asphalt instead of cobblestones. Automobiles instead of carts. It was astonishing how quickly the world changed. As he drove to the cafe, Lars pondered the recent conflict in the nearby North Sea. The destruction that ravaged the Mjolnir, the wounded workers, the malignancy of the 'anti-Guardians' they'd opposed. Especially the doppelganger of himself. Such malice, from one so similar in many ways to Lars. Like the dark mirror of his soul. He vowed to stop the evil future they represented from coming to pass at any cost, as he downshifted and switched lanes. The new member of the team, Rook, claimed to be from that lurking future. It was something they would all do their utmost to prevent. 'Lord Achilles' indeed! Bah. Lars joined the other board members in the private room of the Bistro Exantija, several had yet to arrive, so he poured himself a cup of coffee and spooned sausage, eggs with cheese and fresh herbs, and several exotic varieties of fresh fruit onto a plate. Delicious, as always. Once everyone was present, the monthly meeting of the Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit (Foundation for Justice) went about as expected. The GG board members were certainly competent, and his presence was more of an honorary position than something denoting any actual influence over the foundation's activities. Still, he did retain a member vote, and preferred knowing that the accumulated wealth of a century he'd largely walked away from was actually being used for the purpose he'd intended it. It certainly seemed to be... provision of solar cookers to impoverished families and creation of water pumps and fresh wellsprings to generate potable water in third world countries was up by 4% from the preceding quarter. Refugee populations were being offered food, clothing and lodging at a 1.4% increase thanks to the influence of the GG's lobbyists. Not to mention the impact of their medical and humanitarian supplies on the conflicts in Algiers, Lebanon, and the Balkans. There were dozens of other projects, the foundation was doing far more than he himself could ever have accomplished. As the meeting broke up, and Lars exchanged a few pleasantries with several of the board's members, he gathered the few documents into his valise and headed back outside. The sky over Bremen had become overcast, and a slight, rather chill, breeze carried the scent of the salt sea air across the rooftops. Strolling towards the car, he paused and sighed heavily. Nearly half-past noon and he had to get to the airport by two o'clock... ==================================================================== As Lars debarked from the plane, he smiled at the stewardess... blast, flight attendant. He felt so out of touch with the times when such dialectical artifacts arose in his thoughts. It was astonishing how quickly he could traverse distances in this era. He still remembered clearly the steamship passage to the New World as a seemingly interminable voyage. Here he was in Florence again, home at last. His black Mercedes-Benz was where he'd left it in long term parking, and he quickly found himself racing along the country roads outside the city headed for his villa. Pulling up the drive, Lars grinned and began to relax. It was evening, and the sunset painted the hills with gold-red hues. Such beauty abounded here. One of his favorite homes, on par with the stark beauty of the chateau he kept in the Rockies. Stepping out of the car, he began walking up to the front door, when the world exploded into red light and he found himself hurled through the air dozens of yards to crash into the rows of his vineyard. What in God's name?! "We meet again, my old friend", wheezed a familiar voice. The flaming wreckage of his car crashed down on top of him as the blase narration continued. "It took me much time to track you down, here in your lovely home." As he struggled to his feet, casting aside the shattered metal and steel that battered him with casual irritation, Lars turned his narrowed gaze on the interlopers that faced him. Von Dorien, his old nemesis from the Thule Society. And of course, he was with his faithful lackeys Iron Cross and Blitzkreig. Lovely. Lars' clothing hung in burned tatters from his muscular frame as he rushed at the trio. Otto Von Dorien, the famed 'Bloody Baron of Inverness'. Once a confidante of Himmler and vile mystic in service to the Third Reich, now a withered old man wearing some sort of high-tech exoskeleton - most likely to maintain his unnaturally extended life. Iron Cross, a solid metal automaton animated by the Nazi arcanists using the stolen magics of Golem creation, the spirit animating him drawn from the life-blood and souls of a dozen of the S.S.'s most fanatical storm troopers. And as always Blitzkreig, made of living lightning, swift and lethal... though the face changed, the wielder of the power of Blitzkreig always shared the dark philosophy of the original. Doubtless Von Dorien was the one who made sure of that. Lightning raged across his body as Iron Cross stepped forward ponderously and grabbed at him seeking to crush the german hero. Lars frowned and leaned forward into Iron Cross' grasp as the solid metal hands descended. The sound of metal buckling, and a metallic shriek of pain as he folded Iron Cross' arms unnaturally around the titan's frame, rose above the roar of lightning that continually whipped around the embattled titans. "I'll be with you in a minute Von Dorien", he called as he heaved the crippled golem above his head to the astonishment of his adversaries. "Wouldn't want you to think me a poor host, since you've invited yourself for a visit", he grunted and heaved the form of Iron Cross through the air into the astonished Blitzkreig. Von Dorien cursed and swiveled one arm toward Lars, "I'm ready for you this time, Bastion - or whatever it is you call yourself now". Undoubtedly whatever arcane energies the mad baron presently wielded would be unspeakably lethal. Lars... no, Adamant... walked foward into the barrage of multicolored death unconcernedly. His progress slowed, as a steady stream of obscenity and arcane chanting continued to pour from Von Dorien's withered mouth. Finally, Adamant closed his hand across the weapons port and squeezed, seeking to disable the mystic force that was beginning to cause him considerable pain, despite his vaunted invulnerability. The resultant detonation blew the combatants tens of meters apart. Adamant stood up and glared at the wreckage that surrounded the dessicated and smouldering form of Otto Von Dorien, noting by the feeble movements that the bloody baron yet lived, though he was certainly in no condition to continue the battle. Excellent. Turning back to the scarred and twisted form of Iron Cross, he noted that Blitzkreig had used the opportunity to flee the scene. Smarter than the last villain to bear the name who Lars had encountered, decades ago in Brussels. He hammered the erratically moving golem at his feet several times with his closed fist to ensure it wouldn't be departing, causing it's movements to become more feeble and almost pitiable as it's metallic substance deformed under his ministrations, then turned aside. Walking through the debris, the pools of flame, up the ravaged and pitted stone steps, he entered the house. Flipping on the light, he picked up the phone and called the Checkmate hotline to arrange for detention of Von Dorien and his broken automaton minion. Glancing down while he conversed with the agent on call, Lars headed for the bedroom to get something to wear. His clothes hadn't survived the repeated conflagrations and all that being hurled about. Blast. That was a new suit. ==================================================================== Von Dorien and Iron Cross were long gone, the debris from his shattered car piled up to the side of the road, and the Checkmate Fast-Response Team had just departed. Lars walked into the kitchen and flipped on the gas stove, poured milk into a saucepan, and as the milk began to simmer added vanilla and began whisking in cocoa powder. A little hot cocoa and kahlua would finish up a rather busy day nicely, the flavor cutting the taste of burning gasoline and the smell of whatever that flaming ectoplasmic stuff was that Von Dorien had blasted him with. Even after scouring his indestructable flesh in near boiling water it seemed that a slight aroma clung to him. Undoubtedly just his imagination. Pfaugh. Shortly thereafter, Lars sat on his porch and sipped his cocoa, savoring the delicate flavors mixing with the nutmeg and cinnamon. He'd tend to a few chores around his home, make sure to pay the groundskeeper and his sons for the next three months, and head back to the regional HQ. He wanted to check in with Dr. Doctor Archeville about his countryman's theories on how to suppress the ‘quantum leakage from hyper spatial anomalous psychic discharges occurring at a subatomic level’ which illuminated his form when magnifying his invulnerability. It was strange. He felt more at home with the members of the Global Guardians than he had since leaving home all those years ago. Perhaps because they, like him, were removed from the mass of humanity by their very natures, yet were so intensely representative of humanity's most fundamental attributes. He was very fond of them. Cassie's infectious enthusiasm and perfectionism. Aurin's sense of humor and unfailing optimism. Carlos' dedication to duty and... unique perspectives on the world. Mer's love of life and passion for the seas. They'd all touched him, made him care about something outside his own isolation and loneliness. In these dark hours, as he stared across the shadowed hills outside Florence, he found himself clinging to that knowledge... his basic humanity remained intact. Whatever his destiny. However immeasurably long he lived. He remained fundamentally connected to those who shared this planet with him, and held a shared responsibility for those lives with his teammates. Taking a last drink of the cooling beverage in his hands, Lars turned off the outside light and walked back into his house. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: Mind and Matter: Walking into Guardians' HQ, Lars smiled to himself as he approached the front desk and security checkpoint. The eager young Checkmate agent scrutinized his identification badge, and appeared quite taken aback by the information before him. They always seemed shocked to encounter one of the Global Guardians outside of their 'work clothes' when they were new on the job. Murmuring pleasantries he strolled into the atrium and headed towards his meeting with Archeville. After a short elevator ride and walk down a series of hallways, he paused outside Dr. Archeville's lab. Why the good doctor felt it necessary to replace a perfectly good wood faced security door with this metallic monstrosity he would never understand. Undoubtedly he was being scanned by whatever technological wizardry the doorframe possessed at this very moment. Still, it wasn't polite to lurk out here unannounced. Stepping forward to knock on the door, Lars grimaced in irritation as it slid aside soundlessly before his hand could make contact. Dr. Archeville grinned at him from across the room, where he was illuminated by a trio of spheres halfway to the vaulted ceiling that crackled with vari-colored lights as the doctor manipulated controls below. "Wie gehts my friend", the Doctor called, "I will be with you in a moment". Walking inside, Lars glanced at the floating chairs along the wall, unsupported by any visible means, and elected to stand instead. He had no doubt that Dr. Archeville's work was more reliable than any conventional seat, but it was too far out of his own scope of experience for Lars to be truly comfortable with such commonplace techno-miracles. "Impressive Herr Doktor", he said with a wry grin, "I'd ask what you're doing... but likely wouldn't understand the explanation anyway". Lars continued to smile as Dr. Archeville chuckled, and began to look around the lab at the various disassembled parts of modern day life spread on workbenches and tables, and arranged on the floor in neat piles out of the way of traffic. Illuminated panels, flatscreen video screens filled with arcane mathematical formulae, burnished metal surfaces, robotic drones humming at the ready, glowing translucent tubes filled with unknown energy. The workshop was a testament to the technological prowess of the man who was, in Lars' estimation, the single most brilliant innovator of science he'd ever met. An intellectual analog to Lars' own physical might. He patiently waited for the culmination of Dr. Archeville's experiment, at which point the doctor laughed and jotted down some notes on an electronic notepad, before turning to his visitor. His visit with Dr. Archeville wasn't exactly enlightening, but his countryman seemed intrigued by the manner in which his powers manifested themselves. Lars had no compunction about submitting to examination, as he had always had many questions of his own about his abilities and their origins and trusted Archeville implicitly. His body's utter imperviousness rendered the majority of examination techniques irrelevant, but Dr. Archeville had a variety of clever ways around such obstacles. It apparently wasn't really feasible to get a tissue sample, nor would radiations such as X-rays penetrate more than 'a few microns' into his flesh. The doctor was not dissuaded by such minor problems, and shortly had accumulated several datapads' worth of information on the physical make up of his teammate through his astonishing technological prowess. Muttering about inconsistencies between 'object density and relative durability' as he worked, the doctor appeared quite intrigued. They concluded the series of experiments just before supper time, and Lars took his leave while promising to schedule a follow up appointment in a week. The preliminary results were promising, and a full review of findings should be complete shortly... but Dr. Archeville was notoriously distractible, likely due to the family heritage of lunacy that he himself sought to avoid. So Lars factored that in when estimating when he should return. As he walked the halls of Guardians HQ, he pondered the fact that the Doctor and he got along rather well, strangely enough, considering their myriad individual differences. He simply liked the strange little man, for all his peculiarities, and certainly identified personally with the ongoing battle in his psyche to retain his sanity. They'd had several fascinating discussions on philosophy, he found Dr. Archeville conversant on virtually any subject, and although the doctor seemed firmly wedded to logic and epistomology (as opposed to his own interests in the metaphysical and aesthetic realms), they shared a preference for the continental rather than analytic philosophical model. Hardly surprising they would share commonalities of world view he supposed, given their shared national origin and choice of membership on such a pluralistic international group. Still, he did enjoy his talks with the Doctor, and sensed the feeling was mutual. Emerging from the Guardians' HQ as he broke from his reverie, Lars walked out into the early evening air of New York. He still had to... there it was. His team communicator was going off. Personal business would have to wait. Pivoting on his heel, he raced back into the structure... Adamant was needed. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: King Takes Pawn The Team's VTOL roared across the city's skyline as an uncharacteristic pall of silence hung over the Global Guardians team. Typically before a mission they were all business, but some bantering and discussion of mission objectives would naturally occur between the teammates... particularly Cassie and Aurin. Not today however. Their reported mission had filled the entire team with a sense of dread and impending doom. Today they were going up against the Blood Red King. Initial reports indicated that the most feared being on the planet had been sighted in the Market District of Honk Kong. Apparently he had quipped something about having a 'taste for Chinese today', before slaughtering hundreds of innocent bystanders in a whirlwind orgy of violence and blood. A still running television camera recorded his dismemberment of it's operator for broadcast as the crimson clad psychopath commented that '...the problem is, you're wanting to kill someone again so soon after finishing one'. The People's Revolutionary Superhuman Collective arrived on the scene shortly before the camera's feed was lost. The transmission had recorded the death of at least three enhanced power beings thus far, and the Blood Red King looked to be just getting warmed up. As the VTOL alighted in the scarlet streaked Market Square, a scene of horror and carnage met the debarking members of the Global Guardians. Corpses, body parts, and maimed civilians were scattered all about, and the Blood Red King stood casually in the center of it all engaged in dialogue with a weeping costumed woman wearing a black body suit whose legs ended abruptly just below her waist. "You'll have to excuse me, m'dear... it seems the main course has arrived", the maniac said with utter calm, complete detachment, and just a glint of amusement in his red and black eyes. In an instant, the square was empty of bodies. No sign of the havok he'd wreaked was evident. The injured were gone with the dead, and no evidence that any conflict had occurred at all was left. "I'd be a poor host indeed if I failed to clean up after myself", murmured the Blood Red King. "Shall we begin?" Moving together in unison, the Global Guardians rushed into action against the menace confronting them. Tachyon's departure from their craft caused a miniature sonic boom to ring across the square; Los Hermanos split into two, then four copies; the others immediately moved to engage him as one. The Blood Red King laughed at their efforts. As Tachyon raced at the immortal scion of Evil, the Blood Red King glanced at him and a smile of purest villainy crossed his face. "No, no... monkey brains are not on the menu today", he commented, "I'm afraid this won't do at all". Tachyon vanished in mid stride. Rook's scintillating barrage of energy struck the Blood Red King as Raptor slashed at him with her wrist blades, a perfectly coordinated assault resulting in a wince of pain and snarl of outrage. "That was quite rude of you! But well struck, well struck...", the Blood Red King stated calmly and with growing amusement. The energies that bathed him swirled into a globe he bounced in his hand as Rook glared. "This won't be anything more than an appetizer I'm afraid, a little more I think", he stated coldly as energy ripped it's way out of Rook's suddenly pain-wracked form. The sphere of stolen power grew larger and the Blood Red King chuckled. Adamant's hand grasped their diabolic adversary's wrist with crushing strength as he hammered blow after blow into him. Raptor slashed at the red-clad legs, as Los Hermanos rushed up while duplicating yet again. Across the square, Rook staggered and collapsed in a pool of blood as energy tore violently free from his flesh to race across into the massive globe of energy that seared and spat in the Blood Red King's hand. Frowning at the adversaries who beset him, the Blood Red King quipped "I'm afraid that the quality of this course is wanting... I must speak with the Chef". Energies exploded out from the sphere he held, wracking the forms of Raptor, Los Hermanos, and Adamant, burning and blasting as it seared across the square. Raptor staggered but had been partially shielded from the destructive force by quick thinking and a timely duck behind Adamant's nearly indestructible form, while at least two of Los Hermanos' duplicates were clearly dead and the others were stunned and badly wounded by the potent discharge. Adamant was staggered by the blast himself, but appeared unharmed for now. The Blood Red King raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled, "We're going to have such fun, you and I... but I'm afraid that I simply won't permit you to interfere with my plans". The teutonic hero's blood ran cold at the implicit threat in those words as he suddenly shook with fear, stunned under the villain's psychic assault. Rook groaned across the square, and stirred as he bravely struggled to regain his feet despite his wounds power flaring to life once more at his fingertips. A roar of crashing water announced the arrival of Wave Rider amid an onrushing flood he'd summoned from the docks, where the team had dropped him en route to the battle site. The sudden flood of debris and swirling water briefly carried the combatants along, then subsided with a suddenness that bespoke of the Blood Red King's tampering with the forces of nature once more. One moment the Marketplace was filled with raging torrents of onrushing seawater, the next only puddles and scattered debris indicated the flood had occurred at all. Standing unharmed amid the wreckage and chuckling to himself, the Blood Red King didn't even appear wet. The battle raged on, as the Blood Red King savaged the heroes repeatedly... twisting reality to meet his needs and hurling their deadliest attacks back in their faces or warping their flesh and bone with soul-twisting assaults. Tachyon's blazingly fast reactions and super-speed combat ability was sorely missed from the start, and one after another the team members began to drop against their more powerful nemesis. Adamant repeatedly hurled his mightiest blows into the horror they battled alongside his teammates, with minimal effect. The Blood Red King finally looked at him with annoyance and said, "I feel your heart just isn't in this conflict... but don't fret. I'm sure we'll meet again". A burning, tearing pain shot through Adamant's chest and blackness overtook him... Lars awoke in the dark of the VTOL, noting the sound of the engines and quiet weeping. His face was covered. Why was that? Sitting up, he pulled aside the sheet that covered his face and blinked in the dim lights of the aircraft's interior. Amid cries of shock and disbelief, he took note of the injuries his teammates had suffered. Burns, cuts, broken bones... nobody dead though. Unbelievable. "Lars, you're alive!", Cassie cried out, throwing her arms around her friend. In moments, his teammates swarmed all around him, momentarily lost in the abandon of their miraculously unharmed comrade. Questions brought unexpected answers. Lars learned to his shock that the Blood Red King had ripped the still beating heart from his chest, apparently killing him instantly. He'd never even had his blood shed in over a hundred and fifty years, but this adversary had ripped him wide open without batting an eyelash. Lars couldn't understand how the Blood Red King had done it when his tissues had withstood the most powerful explosives on Earth, avalanches, military class energy weaponry, falling from near orbital heights, the hard vacuum of space, and more without so much as a scratch. The implied power involved was mind boggling. Asking about the recent conflict, Lars learned that the rest of the team had barely managed to drive off the undying embodiment of Evil, with a combination of luck and skill, and even Tachyon had recently radioed in (apparently he'd been transported halfway around the planet where his momentum had been magnified tenfold and directed to carry him head first into a sheer cliff-face in the Canadian Rockies - he was hurt, but alive and recovering thanks to his astonishing resistance to impact, incredible reaction speed, and resilient metabolism - virtually any other speedster would likely have been killed instantly). The death toll was still being added up, but preliminary estimates put it at approximately 327 civilians and 5 members of the PRSC (with most of that number still 'missing - presumed dead'). As one of Los Hermanos' many bodies examined him, he was shocked to learn that his flesh had apparently regenerated completely in the minutes since the battle. Lars literally felt no physical discomfort from the experience, though his mental discomfort at the knowledge of what had happened was considerable. The team was en route to rendezvous with Tachyon in Hawai'i... they'd likely saved thousands of lives given the historic patterns of the Blood Red King's rampages. Still, it was difficult to consider this other than a pyrrhic victory given the loss of life by the citizenry of Hong Kong and the PRSC. As the VTOL screamed through the atmosphere, Adamant pondered his continued survival. He'd clearly been killed, though he hadn't even thought it possible for him to be wounded, there was no other way to put it. Nobody could survive what he'd just gone through, it was impossible. Yet, here he was, and he felt fine. His heart was stored in a cold-storage container towards the back of the ship, but a perfect replacement beat in his chest. The clear implication was that even if his indestructible tissue was somehow damaged to the point where he died, he'd eventually recover. Lars wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. He supposed it was a good thing, but on the other hand he felt even more detached from humanity and alien than before. The flight continued in relative silence, each of the Global Guardians absorbed in their dark thoughts... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: Life In the Big City Lars made his way through the teeming throngs of people that swarmed through the streets and alleyways of New York City. He'd spent most of the morning in a briefing with the other Guardians, wrapping up review of recent treaty negotiations and their impact on the team's mandate to fight crime world-wide. The discussion had been more productive than expected, and now he had part of the afternoon unexpectedly free. Lars had decided to take in some of the sights alongside his teammates Cassandra and Carlos... well, one of Carlos' duplicates anyway. They'd been surprisingly enthusiastic about the idea, and the three were now off into the big city. They'd taken the Metro... the MTA rather... across town from the Global Guardians offices at the United Nations, and debarked at Battery Park. All three experienced some degree of frustration at the constant encounters with swarms of autograph seekers and fans of the team, so they dodged away from the crowds and ducked out of sight. Raptor simply "morphed" into the form of an attractive young woman in an NYU sweatshirt, while Los Hermanos and Adamant quickly adopted civilian attire of their own in a more conventional manner. Finding themselves more readily able to move freely about the city without the constant throngs of their fanbase swarming about them, they discussed their plans for the remainder of the day. Cassandra had been very interested in seeing Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty (something she apparently hadn't done despite living in New York for some time), and neither Carlos nor Lars had objected. It would be interesting to see his point of entry into America after all these years, and the statue hadn't been in place when he'd passed through the first time. Of course, he'd seen it since, but hadn't ever actually set foot on the island itself during the intervening years. Carlos had seemed relatively indifferent to destination, showing his usual unnerving familiarity with any destination one cared to name. So they strolled along bantering casually in civilian garb, or in Cassandra's case a guise of civilian garb, all but lost in the crowd of native New Yorkers and tourists from around the world. As the trio approached Liberty Tours, and moved to wait in line for tickets, they had a clear view of the monument. It was quite striking in the mid-afternoon sun. Twenty minutes later, they had their tickets and walked down to the pier where they boarded the ferry. They chatted about their plans for dinner and whether they should make reservations somewhere, or just stop at one of the local eateries. The cool wind carried the scent of the sea, and Lars momentarily lost himself in reverie... =================================================================== Toting his rucksack, Lars walked down the gangplank into the crowded arrival area of Ellis Island. He politely complied with the terse directions of the Immigration officials, and wended his way through dozens of recent arrivals like himself as he made his way to the lines where he would be expected to register. So many faces surrounded him, with such shared hope and vision. A vision and hope he shared, a hope of a fresh start in a land of promise. ================================================================== Lars debarked with his friends and the many tourists and sightseers onto Ellis Island. The Statue of Liberty glinted with verdigrised majesty in the light above them, as they made their way towards the complex of museums and historical sites. Lars noted that they'd preserved some of the very structures he'd awaited admission to the United States in, doubtless to commemorate the endless sea of immigrants that had founded this nation and continued to arrive on her shores. He found the tour a surprisingly accurate depiction of his experience, both good and bad. To his surprise, and the amusement of his friends, his grainy image was captured in one of the historical photographs (labeled 'European Immigrants - 1867'). The Statue itself was certainly striking, and he could see how it would raise patriotic feelings in natives of this land... though he wondered how many understood it's origin as an offering of friendship from France. Still, it spoke to his own desire for strong international relations, and evoked a certain sense of nostalgia for an era now gone. Returning to the mainland via the ferry, the three heroes debarked and strolled back to the MTA station. Lars found himself chatting amiably with his friends, enjoying the company and the time together. The trio agreed to get dinner at one of Lars' favorite italian eateries, and took the subway across to Brooklyn. Bamonte's was busy, as always, but Carlos almost always seemed to know someone... and such was the case here. They were again approached by several autograph seekers, who recognized Carlos even in his civilian wardrobe (the absence of a mask taking it's toll they joked), but the encounter was far less intrusive than earlier. The meal was excellent, though the disappearance of some of his favorite dishes from the menu caused a momentary sense of frustration (he couldn't believe Clams Casino was no longer avaliable - at least the Fried Ravioli hors d'ouvres remained as good as he remembered), and they enjoyed a pleasant meal with good company in familiar surroundings. ================================================================== Lars and his friends laughed and drank at their private booth, enjoying the good food and drink of Bamonte's. He didn't have a gig this week, as the Two O'Clock Club up in Boston was closed for renovations... so a trip down to visit in the Big Apple seemed just the way to spend the weekend. Reservations weren't a problem, as the minor celebrity he enjoyed as popular 'crooner' Dan Derrick was sufficient to get them in the door. His album had just hit the 1950 record charts the month before, and he was a pretty hot commodity. The evening wore on, and Lars relaxed in the warm glow of good company, good food, and good times... ================================================================== Returning from Brooklyn, the trio made ready to go their separate ways. They'd need to meet tomorrow first thing for discussions related to pending modifications to the Global Guardians response plan for regional disasters, and it was getting rather late. Saying farewell to his companions as they departed for their own accomodations, Lars strolled down the street back to his room at the Michaelangelo in midtown. It was a bit pricey, even for his budget, but he liked the neo-classical decor. It was worth sacrificing the larger dimensions of a suite in a somewhat more affordable hotel for his 'executive room' in such comfortable surroundings. Plus, given his travel habits, it wasn't as if he expected to live there the entire year 'round. Late at night, ensconced in the luxury of his room, Lars gazed out the window onto the streets of Manhattan, a cut-glass tumbler of single-malt scotch in his hand. The illumination of the street lights and sporadic traffic stretched below, breaking the still darkness of the mid-town boulevard. He rested his head against the glass, and allowed his thoughts to drift through memories of the lives he'd lived, the endless roll of years to his recent demise at the hands of the Blood Red King and subsequent miraculous recovery. It was late at night, in times such as this, that he treasured his friendships with those he shared this world with most of all. Lars sipped his scotch, and stared out into the void of darkness in the city below Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: Crisis of Conscience: Lars strolled through the atrium of the Farraday Arms Resort, mingling with the gathered dignitaries and representatives from across the Western Hemisphere. Business magnates, governmental liasons, diplomats, and their associated entourages were present in abundance. Not surprising perhaps, as major policy decisions and trade agreements were expected from this long overdue 'Americas Summit'. He, Bandit and Aurora had come representing the Global Guardians, one representative from each of the three teams. They'd breakfasted by the pool, Aurora literally glowing in the strong carribean sunshine, then gone their separate ways to do their assigned jobs as representative dignitaries from their agency of the United Nations. Primarily socializing with the assorted power-brokers and government-types, and making their presence known. Wouldn't do to have anyone forgetting their mandate, even in such august circles. Plus, there was always the chance that Tarot would have their meddling hand in this. More like a certainty. Wandering out onto the sun-deck, Lars murmured banal greetings to one of the representatives from Panama and a corporate banker from Zurich, then drifted over to the poolside bar where he ordered a Mimosa. A tasty beverage, though the alcohol didn't affect him... though others might not be aware of that. As he turned from the bar, Lars found his attention drawn to a dialogue between two nearby men. "...of course, you'd have to take into account the potential long term impact of such a facility could have on the water table, if not properly regulated. It would be a costly venture as well, especially given the need for the safeguards we're talking about, but it would have a tremendously positive effect on the daily lives of the Cariocas", stated the earnest young latino man in red and white swim trunks to a rather bored looking business-suited man holding a glass of passion-fruit cocktail (complete with umbrella). "Yes, yes", the business-type replied, "I'm well aware of the need for such industrial growth in Manaus, it's just that I'm uncertain whether your South Warriors have the necessary dedication to finish what you're starting down there. The team's track record is impressive enough, but you do tend to have something of a turnover rate, don't you? It's definitely something I'm interested in however... send me the specifics and I'll have my people look into it" Glancing amusedly at Lars, he directed his next question at him. "Are you enjoying the conference, Mr. Heinrich?" Lars blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered himself. "The conference is certainly in a pleasant setting at the very least, though I am afraid you have me at something of a loss, sir." Stepping forward he extended his hand in greeting to the dapper businessman. "Malavren, Henry Malavren", the charming fellow stated giving Lars a firm handshake. "Of course... this is Chemo, of the South Warriors. He's here for much the same reason I'd expect you yourself are, as a representative of his international agency and to keep an eye on the rest of us." Henry laughed, clearly delighted at the discomfort of his two companions, "Don't let it bother you. I'm honestly delighted to meet with you both. Others may forget the debt owed by society to heroes such as yourselves, but I myself never do." Chemo looked considerably abashed, and murmured in spanish something about "not holding up to such important men as the Global Guardians". Both Henry and Lars were quick to reassure him they considered his team of critical importance to the stability of the region of which they were a part, and were more than sufficiently impressed with such credentials as he brought to the conference. The conversation drifted to more prosaic topics, such as the quality of the buffet and which of the islands 27 beaches were the most worth a visit later in the day. Lars was surprised to find himself enjoying the men's company, and was honestly disappointed when he had to take his leave of them an hour later. He did wonder about Mr. Malavren's background, and whether he was associated with Tarot or some other criminal venture. It seemed odd for him to so quickly warm to the presence of one of the Global Guardians. Then again, it was possible he was just a 'fan' of their work. Lars made a mental note to check into the strange fellow a bit later. After mingling with a small delegation of investment bankers who questioned him keenly on the nature of his presence at the seminar (and seemed very dissatisfied with his intentionally vague answers), he headed over to one of the conference seminars to take in some of the educational materials avaliable. Lars glanced at the topic ('Global Impact of Industrial Expansion in Latin America') and, moderately intrigued, walked inside. The speaker was dry and boring, but his knowledge of the subject matter seemed impressive. The German hero found himself nodding on several occasions in agreement with a telling point, or frowning in skepticism as he disagreed with something stated. As he drifted out with the small crowd of dignitaries at the conclusion of the seminar, Lars suddenly paused in shock. It couldn't be! Not here. Moving through the crowd, Lars narrowed his eyes as he confirmed what he'd suspected moments before. Crimson Sickle. He'd thought the Soviet meta-genetic soldier dead years before, but here he was. The question on Lars' mind was immediately what the murderous thug was up to, and whether he would be able to take him out before being spotted. Crimson Sickle and Red Hammer had been the scourge of Europe, though he knew with certainty that Red Hammer was dead. The victim of cancers triggered by the very serums which had activated his kinetic blasting powers. Crimson Sickle had been presumed dead as well, following his apparently lethal fall from the cliffs of Dover in 1965. Forty years later, and here he stood... aged, but still with the vigor of a man of half his years. The benefits of Soviet-era super science, Lars supposed. As he moved forward, preparing to grab the lightning-fast cold warrior, Lars was stopped dead in his tracks by overhearing one of the International Monetary Fund delegates address the Sickle as 'Mr. Ambassador'. The cold feeling of shock was just fading as his old adversary turned and blinked in surprise at Lars' angry visage. Without a word, the Germanic hero turned and walked away into the crowd. Caught up in his thoughts, Lars wandered along the beach. A few questions had determined that Crimson Sickle was here as the official representative of Cuba. He was bound under the law to take no action against such a delegate, as clearly he was protected by diplomatic immunity clauses. Lars clenched his fists in helpless fury, then sighed in acceptance. He'd do his duty, rather than what he felt was right. The Global Guardians' mandate to fight crime anywhere, anytime depended in no small part on a modicum of discretion and rigorous compliance with the rules of international law. Crimson Sickle would walk free this day, and would return to the safety of his haven in Cuba... but Adamant knew he lived, now. "Adamant? Verstockt?! Is that you?". Lars took a deep breath, and turned around to face his approaching former adversary. "It is you... Ìîé Ãîã!", the Sickle appeared a sickly pale hue, clearly shocked to be face to face with his nemesis from years before. Lars studied him, without saying a word, his face impassive. "It has been many years Verstockt, you have not changed... I am an old man, while you remain vigorous and strong. I suspected it was you, when I saw Adamant striding the earth with the Global Guardians. I knew this day would come, when we would face one another again. Come, let us drink together and put the past behind us." Lars nodded, "It has been a long time. But I remember. I remember you killing and destroying the lives of innocent people - even women. Children! All in the name of your cause. I remember a cold war that had no memorials, no medals, no honor... only casualties. I will not drink with you. Do not seek me out. If we meet again, you will regret it." Turning away from the shocked ambassador, Lars walked along the beach ignoring the sputtered responses that followed him. He would do his duty. But he would not pretend to like it. He spotted Bandit chatting good-naturedly with a group of Brasilianos, and waved in greeting as he headed over to join them. Letting out his pent up frustration with a sigh, Lars forced a pleasant smile and let the small-talk wash over him. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: Mind and Matter 2: As he walked the hallways of Guardians' HQ, Lars mulled over his recent contact by Dr. Archeville. He'd found the "good doktor" a pleasant companion during their visits, and generally enjoyed their conversations. It was frustrating that so little progress had seemingly been made regarding his origin or the nature of his abilities, but he'd grown accustomed to such irritations over the long roll of years. Which was why he was somewhat surprised to recieve the communication this morning that Dr. Archeville had some "startling news" to share with him following his latest battery of tests. Waving a friendly greeting at Bandit as they passed one another in the hallway, he ducked into the lift and keyed in the floor he wanted. The familiar elevator ride seemed interminable, and he found himself hurrying down the series of hallways to Dr. Archeville's lab. As usual, the metal monstrosity the Guardians' super-scientist used as a door slid aside soundlessly before his hand could make contact. Dr. Archeville sat across the chamber peering into the eyepieces of a complex piece of electronic equipment. "Wie gehts Lars", the Doctor said warmly, "it's good to see you meine freunde". Walking inside, Lars glanced at the floating chairs along the wall, unsupported by any visible means, and as usual elected to stand rather than trust his weight to such uncanny methods of support. Lars strolled across the lab as he navigated around the various disassembled parts of modern day life spread on workbenches and tables, and arranged on the floor in neat piles out of the way of traffic. Illuminated panels, flatscreen video screens filled with arcane mathematical formulae, burnished metal surfaces, robotic drones humming at the ready, glowing translucent tubes filled with unknown energy. The workshop was a testament to the technological prowess of the man who was, in Lars' estimation, the single most brilliant innovator of science he'd ever met. It had grown increasingly famliar as the shared friendship between the two countrymen had strengthened in recent months during the seemingly interminable series of tests. Dr. Archeville plopped down onto one of the floating chairs, tapping at a wireless datapad and muttering about "inconsistencies remain... incredible if true" before he blinked and wrenched his attention back to his impatient visitor. "Sorry my friend. I was just reviewing the data again regarding what I've so recently come to believe regarding the nature of your abilities. It's rather astonishing... but given some of what you've reportedly done and experienced, I suppose it shouldn't be." Belatedly taking note of Lars' evident frustration, Dr. Archeville continued quickly, "It appears that you... that is, some conscious or unconscious aspect of your mind or psyche, manipulates and draws upon a field of energy that permeates your structure at a subatomic level. I have as of yet been unable to identify the source of this energy, possibly it's derived from some aspect of the cosmic background radiation, or zero point energy, or even some extra-dimensional source as of yet unknown... I cannot be sure given the paucity of data avaliable. In any case, your molecular structure is enhanced through a strengthening of covalent bonds that becomes increasingly durable as more of this energy source is drawn upon. This accounts for your great physical strength, your durability, and most recently for your body's ability to recover from apparently fatal physical trauma. You see, when your body was physically damaged, the field repaired the missing tissue at a molecular level while drawing mass from stray nearby particles as needed. Calling it 'cellular regeneration' as I did initially grossly misrepresents the level of repair involved, though it's technically accurate as the cells were also repaired in the process. It's unlikely that there is literally any detectable difference down to the subatomic level in your physical makeup before or after the incident in question." Dr. Archeville paused, realizing that Lars wasn't fully following his discourse on the subject. "I'm sorry Lars, I am attempting to keep it as simple as possible here. We're talking about a very complex phenomenon. I doubt that it would have been possible for me to even determine what was happening prior to... when you came back from Hong Kong, I had access to... well, a tissue sample." Lars blinked, and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His heart had been ripped from his chest by the Blood Red King, and Dr. Archeville had used this as an opportunity for study? The idea was extremely unnerving, but he had to admire the man's ability to take advantage of the opportunity. "So what did you find out?", he asked finally. "Basically what I was attempting to convey, is that when it was part of you, your heart was more than just a mechanical method for transferring fluid throughout your circulatory system. It was permeated with this energy I'd mentioned. That faded rapidly, there's no trace of it now, but not before I managed to detect it. I'd never have noticed it otherwise, the signature is very faint. It's precisely the fading of the energy that allowed me to sample the tissue from the heart, or it would have remained as invulnerable to harm as the rest of you. Now it's just a piece of flesh, as you'd find from any cadaver. Once I knew what I was looking for, I reviewed the data set from our earlier sessions and was able to pinpoint some aspects of the mechanism responsible for... well, your unique abilities." Lars nodded slowly, as he grasped the concepts involved. "So what you're saying is that my body is impervious to harm only so long as it remains a part of my body? And so you were able to determine what forces grant me these abilities from the only piece of tissue ever to be removed from it?" "Well... I haven't determined the precise forces involved", Archeville said somewhat peevishly. "But that doesn't mean I won't! In any case, their mechanism appears clear enough. And the implications are rather daunting as well. Lars, I don't think it's even possible for you to be permenantly harmed by conventional means... not really. It'd take... well, let's just say I ran some calculations, and if you're ready for it there's very few forces on earth that can hurt you. Even if you're taken off guard and somehow 'killed', as you were by the Blood Red King, your body will restore the damage through replacement of the missing tissue and structures at a molecular level. I seriously doubt whether standing at ground zero in a nuclear detonation would cause you to be permenantly killed, though the widespread systemic trauma would likely incapacitate you for some length of time. Unless you had warning to prepare for it, I'd say you likely could walk away largely unharmed if you used your ability to consciously enhance the molecular lattice of your structure first." Lars mumbled to himself, "So. I cannot die. It's true then." "I didn't say that", said Dr. Archeville emphatically. "I'm talking of physical phenomenon. You are quite as vulnerable as anyone else to intrapsychic or certain types of psionic attack. In fact, in some ways you may potentially be even more vulnerable to them." Before Adamant could voice his puzzlement, the doctor continued, "As I said, the tests seem to indicate that the energy field that permeates your body and which is responsible for your... enduring structure may be regulated by some aspect of your mind, your psyche. A disruption in your mind -- say, from certain types of psionic assaults -- may disrupt this 'mental hold,' and thus temporarily render you unable to enhance your abilities through conscious effort, therefore potentially vulnerable to conventional harm. It's also possible the field itself would be entirely unaffected by such a psychic assault, that it would self regulate under such circumstances. Impossible to tell given the current absence of direct evidence. Of course, if your psyche was somehow itself destroyed by such an attack, the point would be moot as you'd most certainly be killed in a most permenant fashion. In any case, such attacks are a significant 'chink' in your armor, so to speak." "This is not to say that mental assaults need be your only worry. It should be possible to drain off some of the energies that empower you, reducing your level of resistance to harm... though their apparently boundless reserves would make that somewhat problematic, since a way would need to be found to drain off the energies faster than you can replenish them. Still...," here Archeville trailed of a moment as his mind wandered, "... it could be done...." Almost instantaneously, his full focus snapped back to Adamant, "Dr. Simian's disintegrator pistol could also pose a problem, as it cancels the bonds between molecules, reducing them to their component atoms... though your own energy field may sufficiently strengthen your own molecular bonds and give you some protection. Now, a quantum discorporater, though... yes, that might could do it..." Again, Archeville seemed lost in thought, though Adamant could not be sure if he was thinking about whether a quantum discorporator would indeed harm him, or simply how to go about building said weapon. "All this being said, it is true that your resistance to injury, given these findings, has nearly boundless potential. I expect you've grown more resistant to harm over time, and likely stronger as well, yes?" He waited for Lars' nod before continuing, "That's a process my theories project will continue, very slowly, over time. The energies you're drawing on are staggering, at least something on the order of 5.18 × 10.59 Joules is my initial projection, though you do so at a fairly modest rate. It's a testament to the stability of your molecular matrix that you didn't simply explode when your abilities first manifested. Impossible for that to happen now of course. The lattice's enhancement will only grow stronger over time, and in another two to three hundred years your tissue will begin to repel what I'd estimate as 15% of tachyon particles, in a thousand years you're going to be completely impervious to... Lars? What's wrong?" Lars sagged against the edge of the table. A thousand years?! "Nothing herr doktor. Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired. A thousand years? I anticipated the possibility of hundreds, but millenia? Now you tell me I have eternity stretching before me..." He shook his head, shaking off the bleak mood, "...it does not matter. Would I act differently knowing this? Of course not. I thank you for your efforts my friend, and ask that you summarize them for later review. The only thing I need to know at present is this... do my abilities pose any threat to myself or those around me?" Dr. Archeville looked rather dejected, but shook his head. "I had rather thought you would be pleased by the results Lars. You've wanted to know for so long... but I suppose it is something of a shock when you consider your 175 year life thus far is but an infinitesimal fraction of your expected span. Still, I expect you'll want to know the details. I've compiled them for you and included a summary of findings, I kept all of this off the Guardians mainframe of course. And the tissue sample is safely destroyed... nobody will be able to duplicate these findings. Even Harmony's database doesn't have access. I know how important keeping this from public knowledge is for you." "Thank you herr doktor. I find once again that as always, you are the very soul of discretion.", Lars said with considerable relief. "Are you free later for a trip to the local pub? I was planning on meeting one of Carlos' duplicates there later, and possibly some of the rest of the team?" Exchanging pleasantries, they parted ways, and Lars departed. Standing in the lift, he contemplated this newfound knowledge. Eternity stretched before him. A shocking concept, and what did this mean for his soul? If he was so unlikely to die, what did his Faith mean? He had much to consider in the days ahead. Whatever happened, he'd face it on his feet, and with his friends at his side. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) [OOC: And a Golden Age tale of his first adopting a costumed identity...] Adamant: A Golden Era: Lars sat in the cafe and sipped his rich, hot coffee as he did his best to ignore the anxiety rushing through the town like a wind. The Maginot Line had fallen, the Parisians to the south knew that the German Army were coming like the lightning that was their namesake, and fear gripped the civilian population of St. Quentin all around him. Rumors of slaughter and mayhem were carried like plague through the streets, and Lars sighed in frustration. War and death, yet again. He drank in the scenery of the city, knowing full well that it could be erased in a moment of stupidity within days. Humanity at it's worst always seemed to find him, if he just waited long enough. Paying his tip and nodding with a gracious, "merci" to the indifferent waiter, he started down the street to his hostel. Lars had no intention of being present when the invading army reached this quaint town. He'd seen enough bloodshed and destruction for even his long life, and knew well enough that if he stayed he was likely to find himself facing off with the largest and best-trained military force on the planet. He was powerful, but he didn't really want to test his invulnerability against the whole German Army. Plus, they seemed to have superhuman soldiers of their own, if the rumors were to be believed. In any case, even if he did fight, it wouldn't save France, or her people... probably just make matters worse. Lars stopped and rubbed his eyes. He was working himself up to something stupid. There was nothing to be done! That was all that needed to be said on the issue. He turned and quickly walked up the stairs to his room, where his bags were waiting. No sense in getting innocent people killed. No sense at all... ============================================================ Lars jogged along with the masses of refugees, their clothing dirty, faces pale with fear. Old men, women, children, boys barely old enough to shave, husbands and fathers who held their loved ones close... all were fleeing the oncoming might of the German War Machine as it had thrust across the hills of northern and eastern France with relentless focus and ruthless determination. The people around him carried what worldly possessions they could manage as they fled the town of St. Quentin. The onslaught had come too quickly, they had been caught unprepared. The Fatherland's offensive into Belgium and Holland proved a fake, now they were across the "impenetrable" Maginot Line and thundering across the verdant fields of the northern French countryside. Rotterdam bombed, the Dutch submitted. Now France stood almost alone against the most powerful military of Europe. Their "alliance" with Britain had proved laughably ineffective. For almost a week now, the German Military forces had crushed all opposition, seeming to almost be playing with the demoralized and frightened French defenders. Truly, it was one of the most crushing military defeats Lars had ever heard of. ...and here he was right in the middle of it all. Unglaublich. He could hear the crack, crack, crack of rifles and the occasional loud bang of an exploding shell occurring in the town nearby. The outmanned, outgunned Allied forces were falling back yet again, while the town's inhabitants just tried to get out of the way without being killed in the crossfire. As he moved along with the stream of fleeing refugees, Lars considered his options. He could try to join the fleeing masses at Dunkirk, to try and catch a ship across the English channel. That had obvious problems, given his nationality. The British were unlikely to be particularly accomodating to a German national at the present time. The attention this would bring was something he'd prefer to avoid. Remaining in France for the usual post-victory "celebrations" of an invading army was even worse. Honestly, he wasn't sure he could just stand by and watch that sort of thing happen to these people... "M'excuse, monsieur? Avez-vous vu ma mère?", said the small, dark-haired girl with the smudged face. A lump in his throat, Lars shook his head and responded, "Non, cher. Rester avec moi un pendant qu'et nous essaierons de la trouver." A small, yet poignant tragedy amid so many others. He began to move through the mob of bustling humanity with a small hand held in his, knowing it was unlikely that they would locate the child's mother but determined that he'd not stand by this time. This time, he would help... The explosions of the descending shells knocked him off his feet. Screams and smoke filled the air with a sense of surreal terror. Lars easily sprang to his feet, shaking his head at the ringing in his ears. He must've been struck full on... horror washed over him, causing his scalp to prickle. Then Lars looked down at a small, still figure lying amid perhaps a dozen wounded and dying. He knew that he should be running. It was folly to stay here, he'd surely be exposed, his nature unmasked for the world to see. Truly, there was nothing to be done... As Lars walked around the crumbling church, he paused and looked again at the small, still form of the girl lying on the bloody earth. Up the long slope opposite him, he saw a squad of infantry, half a dozen Panzer tanks. The German soldiers were laughing and clearly having a great time as they drove the Allies before them. Lars began to walk up the hill. At first, the soldiers laughed and made bets amongst themselves as Lars approached. Undoubtedly they thought him unhinged, a madman. He was unsure if they were wrong, but he would not stand aside any longer. No more. As the German officer in charge barked a command, a bullet struck him and flattened against his impervious form. He continued up the steep slope undaunted. A fusillade of weapons fire followed, to no effect, as he stepped up onto the pathway and walked over to the nearest Panzer Tank. Fury filled him, like fire in his chest. He could feel tears running down his face, and did not care. Bullets tore at his clothing as he reached out and grasped the front of the Panzer with both hands. "Turn back", grated Lars as he suddenly was limned in dimly glowing light, lifting the tank with a heave of his shoulders and bringing it crashing down on another one in a grinding crunch. "I don't want to have to kill you." Bits of armor flew for tens of feet, as the tracks of the inverted Panzer spun helplessly. The soldiers continued to fire at him, and one of the tanks fired at point blank range. The world was engulfed in fire, flying dirt, and the shredded forms of the soldiers who had been standing beside him. Lars flipped through the air, then rose to his feet completely unharmed. Springing to the firing vehicle, he dug his fingers (were they glowing?!) into the armored turret and ripped the top half of the vehicle completely away. Panting with exertion, Lars turned to find that the remaining three tanks and the German soldiery had decided this was not a battle they cared to continue. He permitted them to flee, stopping at last to take in the incredible carnage he'd wreaked in his moment of rage. Lars stood among the wreckage and bodies as the softly glowing light faded from his form, looked down on the still and bloody form of one of his countrymen, and wept. Wiping the tears from his face, he walked down the hill towards the Allied lines. He had stood aside for long enough... it was time to take action. ============================================================ The old french clothier laughed in his face when Lars told him what he wanted. When he'd picked up the rusty horseshoe and wadded it into a ball almost casually within his dimly glowing right fist, the man stopped laughing and got to work. Lars had been careful so far, but it was necessary to conceal his identity from the Nazis, lest those who were seen with him suffer for their kindnesses. He no longer thought of the Nazi forces as German, not really. There were almost certainly some good men serving with them, he was sure, but what good man could stand aside and let this continue? Families butchered. Whole villages lined up and shot. War had never been like this... not in his lifetime. Let them call him traitor. Perhaps it was true, but better a traitor than a monster. For now, the German War Machine had ground to a halt. He'd fought them several times throughout the latter half of May, always without harm to himself, and had driven several of their units back when he pressed. Not that it mattered, they'd just flowed around him and tightened their grip, the Vichy Government now in place had effectively consolidated their occupation of France. The blood-red flags with their grim swastikas hung all over Paris, and the demoralizing defeat of the French had proven only a prelude to their determined attacks on the British. It seemed nothing could halt the Nazi expansion. Clearly, attempting to fight them over a promise to a small child was the height of stupidity. He'd have to be mad even to try. Lars assumed he'd be called a madman, a traitor, and worse before this war was finished. His years of standing back and letting history pass him by were over and done, one way or another. The french tailor had refused payment for the costume, nodding in satisfaction when Lars had donned it for the first time. He knew he'd likely never see the man again. For tonight, they were companions fighting for Le Resistance. Lars would be an indestructible living wall between the innocent and these demons in human form. A last bastion, when their defenses had failed, to protect them from harm. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 20, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 20, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) [OOC: And a Silver Age adventure during his career as the Berlin hero Verstockt during the 1960s (fighting the Red Menace and various costumed villains in the streets of divided Berlin)] Adamant: "Girl Problems" June 11, 1965: Walking into the Restaurant Borchardt for his morning breakfast with the Zurich-Geimenschaft Bank representatives, Lars adjusted his navy blue tie slightly and gave a smiling nod to the coat-check girl as he strolled past. The bankers were undoubtedly planning to tell him all manner of things his growing affluence made possible in terms of investments, though to be fair he didn't really care all that much. They managed his money quite adequately, and the money made pursuing his interests that much easier. Other than that, he couldn't have been bothered. Sitting down at the table, he smiled wryly as the two corpulent bank representatives launched into their carefully prepared statements. Lars was well aware they considered him a wealthy dilettante, a playboy with no real drive for business but who liked to dabble in the trappings of a wealthy investor. It was a fiction that he slightly encouraged, though not to the point where he was dismissed out of hand. Concealing his identity and nature had become something he was so accustomed to that it became second nature to simply go along with the pre-conceptions of others. Helping himself to a crusty roll with butter and a cup of coffee, he nodded and smiled throughout the thirty minute oration, making approving noises as the bankers extolled the virtues of their prudent investments. If things worked as he planned, one day he'd have accumulated sufficient wealth to make a more profound difference in the world than he was personally able to manage merely using his considerable physical talents. While he expressed his gratitude for another profitable quarter's investments (actually, he was rather impressed despite himself), Lars noted the coat-check girl backing hastily into the restaurant, a look of terror on her face. Fantastic. "Excuse me gentlemen", he muttered, "I fear I must avail myself of the facilities". Standing, and ignoring the murmured assent of his self-satisfied breakfast companions, Lars quickly made his way to the lavatory just as a quintet of armed robbers made their entrance. Ducking quickly into a vacant restroom stall, he rapidly disrobed and placed his neatly folded suit into his briefcase. Donning a bodysuit colored in keeping with the Federal Republic Der Deutschland's black, gold, and red, he secured his ebony mask and slipped the briefcase into the nearby waste basket. Springing up to the recessed window-ledge near the ceiling, he squeezed through and dropped to the street outside, some twenty feet below. Now, as Verstockt, the defender of Berlin, he raced around to the front of the restaurant to make his entrance and save the day. Striding confidently into the restaurant, he grinned at the startled criminals who were gathering jewelry, wallets, and purses into satchels (having already emptied the cash register), and stated dramatically, "Those items don't belong to you. I suggest you return everything to the proper owners, and it won't be necessary for me to thrash you senseless before I turn you over to the authorities". A hail of gunfire greeted his pronouncement, as he'd expected, and Verstockt bared his teeth in a grin as he stood, arms akimbo, and let the bullets flatten themselves on his indestructible frame. Moving with sudden, swift determination he sprang into action, leaping forward to grab one of the gun-wielding thugs by his arm and sling him across the room into another with sufficient force to knock them both senseless. The remaining three gunmen attempted to bring their weapons to bear as he moved swiftly towards the nearest one and struck him sharply with his open palm, driving him at least twenty feet across the room to slam into a wall and slump unconscious to the floor. The last two thugs hesitated as he gave them an intimidating glare, then ran for the door. He leapt to them and seized both, one in each hand as he stated, "I'd drop those guns now gentlemen, before someone gets hurt". The handguns hit the floor as the robbers raised their hands in surrender. Slow, sarcastic applause greeted his efforts, and Verstockt turned his head to face the costumed figure who stood near the doorway smiling and clapping her hands. "Oh, bravo Verstockt. Bravo. I had heard you were quite impressive, and you certainly lived up to your reputation". Bringing his hands together to stun the two gunmen, Verstockt let them fall to the ground and turned towards her with a smile, bowing slight, "My thanks. I fear you have me at something of a disadvantage. You are?" "I'm the Elementrix my dear, dear man... and I am here to make sure you don't interfere with my plans for this city.", she gestured imperiously and Lars was seized by invisible hands and hoisted into the air. "I'm afraid that my air elementals will make short work of you... for all your vaunted strength", she smirked. Powerful blows rocked Lars, as he struggled in the grip of his unseen adversaries. Wrenching his arms free, he slammed a mighty blow of his own into one of the invisible assailants, driving it back with a windy grunt. Repeated strikes were beginning to take their toll, even on his impervious frame, and Lars grabbed desperately with his outstretched hands, managing to seize a nebulous form which he wielded like an impromptu bludgeon to smash the others away. As he struggled to his feet, the invisible opponents came at him in a wave, and Lars met them head on as the onlookers fled to the back of the restaurant with cries of fear. Reeling from what seemed to be perhaps a quartet of powerful, invisible opponents, Lars suddenly found himself hurled across the room by a blast of fire from the costumed woman herself. "Oh no, I can't have you hurting my pets", she smirked as he slammed into the wall and slid smoking down to the floor. Springing back to his feet, Lars braced himself for the onrush of her invisible thugs, blocking their assault and unleashing a response that reduced his opposition by at least one. As another onslaught of fire and invisible blows came his way, Lars concentrated to increase his resistance to damage, rendering himself impervious to their attacks. "It's not quite that easy, Fraulein", he quipped as he weathered flame, blows, and tearing winds. Having recovered his composure, Lars slammed a devastating series of blows into his unseen opposition, battering them into momentary insensibility, then started forward across the restaurant towards the costumed woman. The woman frowned at him and gestured imperiously, muttering words in a language he hadn't heard before. Great, she was some sort of magician. Lars crouched warily, expecting something unpleasant to happen... he wasn't disappointed. The floor beneath him surged upward, forming into a massive hand that enveloped him and pinned his limbs to his sides. Lars felt crushing pressure, and threw his efforts into forcing his arms outward. With a tremendous crash, the concrete and tile hand broke into fragments that rattled for tens of feet away from him while he dropped to stand amid the rubble. The battle was taking it's toll on him, he could feel fatigue burning in his limbs, and the repeated pounding made even his impervious form ache. This was a much more difficult conflict than he'd expected out of a simple armed robbery... who was this woman? Laughing and clapping her hands she gestured again speaking more arcane words, and the air solidified around him, crushing him down to the broken earth beneath his feet. "Gather the spoils", she instructed one of her remaining invisible servitors, and bags of stolen loot began to swiftly make their way through the air out the entrance behind her. He broke free of the winds containing him and was pounded by another invisible minion. Enough was enough. Drawing back he threw all his might into a blow that dissipated the force opposing him like a popped soap bubble. He began to rush towards her, arms outstretched as the woman waved her fingers at him and said calmly, "...another time hero", then stepped over to one of the restaurant's marble pillars placing her hands on it's surface. Just as he launched himself through the air towards her, only feet away from grabbing her, she slipped into the column and vanished. Verstockt's velocity carried him the remaining distance to slam into the stonework, shattering it as he bounced haplessly across the floor. As he sat up, glaring with frustration, Verstockt realized that he'd just played right into her hands. His irritation faded quickly into amusement, as he considered the deft manner in which she'd maneuvered him. The hired guns to draw him out, the invisible elementals to ambush him once he arrived, and while he was trying to get to her the loot was spirited off by yet another elemental spirit. And to cap the whole heist off, she vanishes just as he's about to catch her. "Nicely played", he muttered to himself, then walked over to reassure the restaurant patrons they were no longer in any danger. The press corps arrived just as he was departing the establishment, and Verstockt took a few moments to express his relief that nobody was seriously injured during the robbery before vaulting off into the sunny morning. Doubling back, he slipped back into the restroom and recovered his civilian clothing, then exited the restaurant with the other patrons safely back in his secret identity. A humbling experience, but he'd be prepared for her tricks the next time they met... ============================================================ October 17, 1966: Verstockt raced along the bridge, his powerful legs driving him forward after the fleeing automobile then launching him in a shallow arc through the air to land, spread-eagled across the back of the vehicle. He clamped down hard with his fingers, feeling the steel deform under his powerful grip as the black Mercedes swerved in a desperate attempt to throw him off. Smashing through the rear window, he slid into the back seat and found himself face-to-face with Elementrix who clasped a heavy, leather-bound tome to her chest possessively. "We've got to stop meeting like this", he quipped as he reached across towards her. He'd expected the Schwartz-Bayen Gang had been responsible for the museum heist. Pawning valuable artifacts was just their type of caper, and the driver was a known member of the organization. But it appeared that Berlin's underworld hosted a different type of criminal tonight, one he hadn't seen since she left him sprawled in front of a restaurant-full of her victims a year or more ago. "I quite agree", she said, regaining her composure as the car screeched to a halt, "You're a pleasant enough man to look at Verstockt, but I can't have you muddying up all my little enterprises now, can I?" With an arched eyebrow she gestured and a lash of wind hurled him through the passenger door of the vehicle to dent the bridge's safety rail with his impact. As he struggled to his feet, the driver exited the vehicle and began to pepper him with automatic weapons fire. Very annoying. Lars picked up the broken vehicle door from where it lay beneath him, and threw it like a Frisbee at the gunman as he advanced on Elementrix. The firearm stopped it's chatter as the gangster was hurled backward, unconscious from the impact. "If you'd stop stealing things in my city, we wouldn't have these little conflicts", he countered as he closed the distance with her. "Where's the fun in that?", was her rejoinder, and water flowed up from the river below to form a pair of menacing fluid shapes, roughly humanoid but clearly inhuman. "Stop him", she instructed. Verstockt frowned as the water elementals attacked, and grabbed the nearby car as a weapon of opportunity. Lifting it above his head with both hands, he brought it forward and down with a grunt of exertion, crushing the water elementals into puddles and the car into scrap metal simultaneously. Debris, water, fluids from the car, and chunks of bridge flew through the air in the wake of his blow, and Elementrix's eyes widened with anxiety as he decimated her summoned minions with a single strike. "I think not", he said calmly, "You're not getting away so easily today". Clasping the book to her chest, Elementrix chanted and immediately lifted into the air, borne aloft on the winds that had battered Verstockt earlier. Great. Now she can fly, he thought with annoyance. Crouching, he leapt through the intervening air and grabbed at her, seizing her in his crushing grip as they hung in the air above the bridge. She shrieked in outrage as he began to squeeze her in his grip, driving the wind from her lungs. As she hovered on the edge of consciousness, her eyes narrowed and Elementrix used her mastery of winds to fly them out over the river, where she dropped the stolen manuscript. Verstockt released her immediately, and dove after the text. It's historical value was incalculable, he wouldn't permit it to be destroyed by some irascible tart just to pay him back for foiling her escape. As he plunged after the book, his fingers outstretched, her laughter reached his ears as Elementrix flew away. Seizing the manuscript, he twisted in the air and landed on his feet in perhaps three feet of water and mud, holding the book aloft to protect it from harm. Standing in the reeking water at the river's edge, listening to Elementrix's mirth as she flew away into the night, Verstockt took a moment to consider how very much he was starting to dislike the woman before he slogged his way back to shore. ============================================================ March 2, 1967: The mansion of Prolich Von Restoch was opulent and richly furnished, undoubtedly the reason why Elementrix had chosen it as her target this evening. Lars slipped through the balcony doors and moved down the hallway where he heard her boasting to Herr Von Restoch about how she was going to make off with a substantial portion of his wealth, and belittling his ignorance regarding the "true value" of several items in his collection. Why was it that the criminals he fought always felt the need to make such grandiose pronouncements, when they should be getting away? Ah well, he'd take advantage of it and be thankful. Slipping up to the doorway, on the second floor of the great library where she had assembled her treasures, Verstockt peeked around and ducked back out of sight. Von Restoch was tied to a chair in the center of the room, there were a pair of earthen figures (undoubtedly more of her "elementals") flanking him, and Elementrix lounged on a nearby couch. Books, statuary, vases, and other valuables were being assembled in a large tapestry by what appeared likely to be a pair of her air elementals. This was not looking pretty, but he would not let her escape this time. Darting around the corner, he crossed the room and vaulted the balcony to spring down beside Von Restoch on the library's ground floor, then shattered one of the sorceress' earthen minions with a single powerful blow of his fist. "Sorry to be late to the party, Elementrix", he stated with a grin as he pivoted and seized the other earth elemental in his crushing grip. It was strong, but he was clearly stronger and it's substance began to crumble beneath his super-human grasp. "Verstockt! How did you find me?!", she gasped, clearly surprised and not at all pleased at his presence. Gesturing, she bombarded his indestructible form with her signature lash of coherent wind, but he was anchored by his grip on her elemental and didn't budge. Turning, he slammed the earth elemental onto the ground with force that cracked and split the wood beneath the rich carpet. It slumped into clods of dirt and broken gravel, as he turned and said, "Your associates in Munich gave you up. You should've fled Berlin when you had the chance, Elementrix. I'm taking you in." He took a half step toward her, and was driven back several paces by a blast of water from her outstretched hand, then began to walk forward again. The invisible aerial servants of the elemental witch blasted him with winds, but he ignored the assault and strode over to her to seize Elementrix and crush her against his impervious body with stunning force. She struggled, but was completely helpless as he began to squeeze her into unconsciousness. The constructs of wind that she commanded pulled at his limbs, but without effect as the villainess lapsed into semi-consciousness. As she appeared about to lose her senses, she leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips! Startled, Verstockt released his grip, only to find himself swiftly blasted back across the room to crush into the wall by a gust of wind. Rubbing her ribs, she soared into the air and said, "Another time, Verstockt...", as she made for the doorway he'd so recently vacated. Stepping over to the pile of treasures abandoned by her minions, Verstockt grabbed a small bronze statue and hurled it with tremendous force to strike Elementrix squarely between the shoulders. Twisting winds attempted to deflect the projectile, which was twisted and deformed by the impact, but the remaining force of the blow drove her into the wall where she slumped to the floor, unconscious. Touching his lips with his fingertips thoughtfully, Lars stood still for a long moment. Then returned to the business of releasing the bound homeowner and assuring him that the authorities were en route. He secured the unconscious Elementrix and stared down at her thoughtfully. She evoked confusing emotions, that he hadn't experienced in long decades, but he'd do his duty of course and see her incarcerated for her crimes. As the police arrived to take her in, she'd awakened and predictably made a plea to him to release her. He demurred, which seemed to anger her considerably, and turned her over to the authorities. Her last words to him, as she was led away in handcuffs were, "We will meet again Verstockt! No one spurns the Elementrix!" Shaking his head in bemusement, he loped off into the night, into the streets of a divided Berlin. A division imposed by the Soviets on his people, and one he refused to accept, as he fought to reunify Germany under the principles of Democracy. In any case, his city was once again safe from the predations of the Elementrix, but other dangers lurked that would menace it's citizens and institutions. The people would sleep soundly, safe from harm or the terrible wonders which lurked in the shadows of this world, thanks to the unwavering dedication of Verstockt, the Defender of Berlin. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
casualplayer Posted March 21, 2006 Report Share Posted March 21, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) All right, I'll be kind. Pretty. Frickin'. Cool. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted March 21, 2006 Author Report Share Posted March 21, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Aw shucks. Thanks man. I gotta admit, he's been a real hoot to play. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted May 12, 2006 Author Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: "A Matter of Perspective" February 22, 2005: Alarm klaxons flashed in the metal hallway of the orbital facility, as Adamant navigated the zero-gravity environment cautiously. He and Raptor were moving along a long tube connecting the station's environmental subsystems with one of the modular processing and manufacturing units. The whole situation was a bit surreal, Lars thought as he glanced "upward" through one of the nearby view ports at the broad expanse of blue and white stretching across the stars... above him? Below? He was in no way comfortable with the concepts of a nearly gravity free environment, however convenient it made certain industrial manufacturing processes for WorldTech Industries in their prototype orbital facility. Still, the materials they were producing were in high demand... "miracle materials" such as Unobtanium and Genesium, as well as extremely valuable superconductors, undoubtedly the very reason for the current assault underway by members of HardCorps, who had scattered throughout the place. Which was why the team had split into four groups of two itself, in order to seek out and engage the villains throughout the facility. As Raptor and Adamant entered the hatchway leading to the manufacturing compartment, Lars paused as the dark avenger with him held up her finger indicating a need for silence. Raptor signed the number "3", and pointed to indicate their location in the manufacturing center, so he nodded in response then braced himself to move inside. The two of them sprang forward into action, entering the chamber to confront the malefactors within. Lars, stumbled slightly crossing into the room, but Raptor moved like a dark cloud to engage her opponent. Inside the small room were compartments, tubes, and machinery... the heart of the zero-gravity manufacturing process in this subsection. Near center of the chamber stood a trio of familiar meta-criminals, Go-Go, Stone, and Caliber of HardCorps. The three of them gathering ingots of a dark gray, nearly black metallic substance into heavy steel cases. Raptor and Go-Go were immediately engaged in a complex ballet of strike and counter-strike. Though Go-Go was clearly faster, Raptor's greater skill in martial combat seemed to largely offset her opponent's blinding speed. Stone moved with ponderous, but inexorable power through the intervening space towards Adamant, while Caliber slammed closed the cases on their stolen loot and grabbed them up as his shoulder-mounted cannon swiveled to bear on the Global Guardians. As Stone swept down on him, Lars noted the advice he'd been given by Gunmetal regarding combat in zero-gravity environments, en route to the station. Don't hit if you can, it'll knock you as far back as it does the target of your blow, grab and crush whenever possible. Sidestepping Stone's rushing assault, Lars allowed him to heavily impact the floor, causing a web of cracks to spiral outward from the blow, then reached out quickly and grabbed him as Stone started to bounce away. The two of them were carried along by the velocity, spiraling through the air as Adamant ground his fingers into his opponent's granite flesh. Puffs of rock dust shot out, and cracks formed across the surface of his foe, who groaned and sagged under the assault. Then, in mid-turn the two of them were slammed against the far wall by a shell from Caliber's auto-cannon. His back braced against the wall, and Stone still struggling in his grip, Adamant glared across the chamber at Caliber and hurled the trapped man of granite at the armored villain as he called out with calm authority, "Give up now, and save yourselves a beating". The two slammed together with a resounding crunch, and Lars glanced over to see how Raptor was doing against Go-Go, grinning as he noted she'd put the lethal speedster into some sort of joint lock and was choking her into submission. Springing forward and letting his inertia carry him across the room, Lars extended his hands toward the villainous duo. Caliber opened fire again, responding to Lars with disdain, "We're not the ones getting beaten today". Still struggling with the lack of gravity and the force of Stone's impact, his armor piercing round flew wide to the left, missing Lars entirely. The stray shell struck the wall, tearing through steel reinforced bulkheads as if they were tissue paper. "Oh, no", Lars groaned, in the sudden scream of venting atmosphere. Instantly, Rock and Go-Go clutched at their ears and collapsed, their cries of agony muted as everyone in the chamber was drawn across the room towards the ragged-edged aperture. Lars was sucked out through the rift in the station's super-structure, noting as he flew out into space that Raptor had grabbed Go-Go and Stone, one in each hand, to struggle past the rapidly sealing bulkhead. Lars had the composure to hope that Caliber's suit was sealed against hard vacuum, as he slowly flipped end over end through the icy vacuum of space. The exterior of the station showed nothing of the conflict that still raged within, Lars attempted to trigger his communicator but gave up as he realized that he'd be unable to generate any noise in the absence of atmosphere. Looking at the broad expanse of the planet below, rotating past in each of his body's revolutions, Lars realized that he was very likely in for a significant test of his physical resistance to harm. Given his vantage point, inverted above the planet's surface, it seemed almost as if the world hung above his head and that he rushed upward to meet it. Lars was well aware that would undoubtedly be a perspective which would change with startling rapidity. Ten minutes later, flames wreathed his body as his uniform was slowly being consumed by the searing destructive forces of re-entry. He had no question about which direction was down now... he hurled downward with horrifying speed towards the broad expanse of planet. Lars squeezed his eyes shut against the dazzling glare of the fires which raged around his form, as he hurtled towards the world below... The concussion of his impact some minutes later was stunning, as Adamant's flaming body slammed down into the azure waters of the Pacific Ocean. Sea water instantly was transformed to steam and a mighty plume of displaced material shot hundreds of feet into the air. Driven deep beneath the surface, his momentum lost, he hung suspended in the roiling green depths, disoriented as the pain of the forces which had wracked him faded. Drifting in the cooling water, Lars shook his head to clear his senses and recover from the tremendous impact which had momentarily dazed him, then began swimming upward. His head broke the surface of the blue-gray water, no land was visible in any direction. Lars grumbled in his native German, "Warum nicht je geht mein Weg?", and make a few quick calculations based on the position of the sun, then began to swim westward with steady, powerful strokes. Three hours later, the Global Guardians' Team 1 Sabrejet descended to hover above his position in the water. The hatchway opened, and Gunmetal stepped outside, his boot jets carrying him downward where he grabbed Lars' outstretched hand and carried him inside the vehicle. Stumbling inside the vehicle, he moved towards the storage lockers in the back to get a replacement costume, showing little concern for his lack of apparel as he waved a casual greeting to the rest of the team. "How'd we do?", he quipped while briskly towling sea water off and pulling on a fresh uniform. "We've had better days, actually", said Aurin as he looked up from a mission report. "We managed to evacuate the station's crew, Hardcorps got away sans loot, and damage to the manufacturing plant was minimal... well, aside from a rather sizeable hole someone shot in the side of it. You might have noticed that one. I'd call it a draw, all things considered.", grinned the world's fastest ape. "Yeah, the big hole in the side of the station caught my eye on my way down", Lars responded jovially. "Thanks for the ride by the way... where are we at?" "You splashed down about four hundred miles west of Baja California", said Gunmetal, shaking his head as he moved back towards the vehicle's cockpit area. "At the rate you were swimming, it could've taken you another week and a half to make landfall... figured you'd rather not wait quite that long." Lars shook his head as he dropped heavily into one of the padded seats, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. Well, that was just the sort of thing he'd signed on for, he supposed. The Sabrejet arced above the rolling waves, it's path curving northward to bear them home once more, their mission accomplished. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted May 12, 2006 Author Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: "Old Friends, Older Enemies" March 17, 2005: Lars drove the streets of Dresden in his midnight blue porsche, contemplating the latest upcoming quarterly meeting of the board of Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit (Foundation for Justice). He hadn't been thrilled to hear it was being held in Dresden, to be honest. The city held dark memories for him, things he preferred not to dwell on from the War. It was beautiful, and very fresh looking, very new. The reasons for that were what bothered him about it, and the very newness of the city was in no small way the source of his discomfort. ============================================================= Lars glared at his captor in impotent fury. Von Dorien had captured him at last, trapping him with arcane magics in the chains that bound him helpless while they strove to steal the very strength from his limbs, and weakened his will to resist. He didn't even bother to struggle anymore, it had been days in the rail cars to this city of splendor and antiquity, far behind the conflict that raged on the battlefront. Far from any chance of rescue. Dresden had always been a favorite place of his before the War, a cosmopolitan metropolis of culture and refinement. Now the Nazis had turned it into a prison camp for him. Von Dorien made his usual grandiose statements, threats, and sly implications, then left him to stew about his predicament. With Von Dorien having come all this way to see him, Eisenkrieger was certainly about, and likely so was Blitzkrieg... Maybe even Sturmfuhrer himself. It seemed very likely that even if he escaped, the Nazis could bring enough forces to bear on him that he'd be recaptured without much trouble on their part. Given time, they might even find a way to kill him, or subvert his will using black magics or Nazi super-science. The latter possibility was likely the only reason he was still alive... ============================================================= Shifting gears as he smoothly accelerated between a bus and taxi-cab, Lars drove past the rebuilt Royal Palace and Hausman Tower on his way through the Old Town. The previous night's stay at the Hotel Bülow Residenz had been perfectly acceptable, a very nice place to be sure. Not so comfortable as his rooms at the Michaelangelo in New York, and it lacked the sense of "home" that his villa in Italy carried, but it was certainly a quality establishment in every sense. Navigating the curving streets of the city was easier than he remembered. Glimpses of the old architecture were still visible in places, as monuments to a vanished glory. He found the new city of Dresden rather a dim reflection of it's bygone days, and as Lars pulled up in front of the restaurant for the meeting, he took a moment to regain his composure. ============================================================ The growing thunder of bombs rattled the cell, as concrete powder drifted down from the ceiling in a fine mist. Lars grit his teeth and hauled on the chains with all his might... to no avail. Try however he would, the wearer of Von Dorien's alchemical shackles was unable to harm them. He'd be damned if he gave up, just to sit in the cell until they killed or twisted him into some Nazi lapdog. Lars pulled still harder, with no more fortune than he'd had before. Looking up at the narrow aperture which looked out, so far above his head, Lars narrowed his eyes at how very close the bombs were. This seemed to be going on rather a long time for an air raid. What on earth was going on? Dresden didn't have any real strategic value he was aware of... what could the Allies possibly be targeting? The world seemed to come apart in fire, and flying masonry, as a bomb weighing hundreds of pounds smashed down to explode directly on top of Lars. A raging inferno of destruction filled his world, which obliterated all sight, all sound. Lars' next recollection was of himself staggering out of the building, desperately trying to collect his senses and amazed that he was both alive and free! His joy was short lived however, fading to soul crushing horror at the sight that met him. The heart of Dresden was a cauldron of fire and death, the blackened bones of it's citizenry crumbling in a conflagration that was blinding in it's intensity. ============================================================= The meeting was as expected. The Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit's quarterly investments were funding all manner of charitable endeavors across the globe, modest expansion continued for the company even in the face of what could well be described as a global economic recession, and various regional governments had expressed gratitude (for their works of charity) or displeasure (usually related to the organization's encouragement of democratic reform and promotion of peaceful resolution of international disputes through diplomatic and economic means) in turns. Nothing new, really. At least the luncheon was tasty, the chef had outdone himself with the Kassler Ripchen... the chop had been tender and perfectly cooked, and the apple and raisen sauce complemented it perfectly. His potatoes had been rather mediocre, but didn't detract from the dish. He'd probably have had more of an appetite had the surroundings not been reminiscent of such... grim history. ============================================================== Stumbling out of the cracked and burning ruins, Lars carried the bleeding and burned wounded of Dresden from the pyre that had been their city. He'd gotten free a dozen times now, been struck by the continually falling incendiary bombs on several occasions. His flesh remained impenetrable, but the horrors he found within the gutted streets of Dresden scarred him in ways that Allied explosives could not. He was well aware that the bodies he carried out were in many cases beyond saving, but Lars couldn't just leave them for the flames. Again he went back... ============================================================= As the meeting adjourned, Lars remained behind for about half an hour to exchange pleasantries with several of the board's prominent membership. Nicky Tordeau, Whitney Oppenheimer, a few others. Most were themselves exceedingly rich, far beyond the modest stipend which Lars permitted himself from the vast coffers of the Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit, but all carefully vetted in terms of their devotion to the shared ideals of the organization. Finally taking his leave, Lars headed for the front of the restaurant to request his car be brought around. While he was waiting, an aged (but somehow familiar) voice from behind him startled him into immobility. "Wie sind du, Lars?" ============================================================== "Wie sind Sie?", asked the young woman as he sagged to his knees. His clothing was mostly charred into rags and unrecognizable cinders, but nobody would mistake his apparel for that of a German soldier. Still, she inquired about how he was doing, and seemed genuinely concerned. "I am... not well, Fraulein", he responded hesitantly, "The horrors of the day seem without end. I apologize for troubling you... I must be on my way." Lars rose to his feet wearily, preparing to take flight. He had little chance of escape, but must seize the opportunity while it presented itself. Von Dorien and his magical thugs might have perished in the apocalypse at Dresden's heart, but he couldn't count on that. Almost certainly they'd track him down and recapture him. "Come with me", she said, placing a hand hesitantly on his shoulder. "There is a place, where you will be safe from them." Staring at her in disbelief, Lars asked the question that momentarily drove from his thoughts the carnage at the city's heart. "Why?" The young woman paused, then responded, "Because you helped, when nobody else would". Lars followed her without another world through the smoke filled streets of the shattered city. Grief warred with hope as he sought his freedom with the aid of this strange young woman. ============================================================= "Hannah?", he asked after a momentary pause, "I didn't expect...", a longer pause followed. "I had heard you were taken away by the Gestapo, just before the end of the War. I came back to look for you, but no one could tell me if you were... well, you know." "Oh, Lars. You should see your face", the old woman said with a laugh. "I didn't expect... well. You know, it has been a lifetime ago for me. And here you are, unchanged." She shook her head. "I've followed your activities through the years, you know. Whenever you donned one of those eccentric uniforms, and started smashing things up, I knew it was you. In Berlin, and now with the Global Guardians. And your... Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit. You've done great things, Lars. I just wanted to see you once more, after so long." Lars took her hand in his and grinned at her, "It is wonderful to see you, Hannah. I'd thought never to speak with you... and I owe you so much. Had you not helped, who knows what they'd have done to me." They stood beaming at one another, a sense of comfortable familiarity settling between them. "Please, do you have time to have a drink with an old friend? I want to hear everything..." Hannah smiled, and nodded. "Of course. I know just the place". Lars and Hannah reminisced for most of the afternoon in a quiet, understatedly elegant restaurant. She'd married of course, twice. Hannah had outlived both her husbands, and recalled them with warmth and love. There were children, grandchildren. Hannah had been a driving force in establishing memorials for the War's dead, but most of her life was spent in devotion to her family. Her second husband had died three years ago, and now she had been told that she had little time remaining herself. A remarkable woman, in every sense, thought Lars, as he took his leave. She clearly had no regrets of her own, and their meeting seemed to bring a sense of closure to her about a chapter of her life she'd thought long since past. As they hugged their goodbyes, Lars found himself deeply moved once more. His thoughts went back to the smell of her hair, soap and the soft perfume of her skin. Another chapter of his own life, she'd stopped him from making a dreadful mistake and walking away from his responsibilities then. He'd been angry, bitter that the Allies had brutalized Dresden, with the end of the war almost in sight. There'd been no good reason for it he could see, and tens, perhaps a hundred thousand had died in flames. The true numbers of dead were lost in the fires that destroyed a thousand years of culture. Innocents, slaughtered on the altar of military expedience for the crimes of others, once more. On and on through the years, a tragedy repeated since in a dozen cities across the globe over the decades. And so it goes. Hannah, kind and dear Hannah, had reminded him that this would never end without men willing to stand against it. She was one of the reasons he'd formed the Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit, to work for peace and a better world. So he'd stayed firm in his resolve, rejoined the war effort as Bastion, and seen it through to the end. Then, when he sought her out she was gone. Lost in the carnage of the second World War. Walking out to his waiting car, Lars paused in the early evening air and let the bittersweet memories wash over him once more. He would miss her terribly. Then he climbed into the waiting auto and drove away into the dusky twilight of Dresden. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted May 12, 2006 Author Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: "To Serve And Protect" September 1, 2005 Lars crouched in the doorway of the Sabrejet, as the Global Guardians flew low over the ruins of the city below. He hadn't seen destruction on this scale in some time, and it was shocking to witness it here. Lars sprang from the jet as it arced past the tattered-looking dome structure, landing heavily on the pavement and leaving a pair of deep footprints in the asphalt as he did so. Jogging along to his assigned position, overlooking the black sea of asphalt dotted with lakes of water which marked the Superdome parking lot, Lars smiled grimly as a dozen Checkmate personnel carriers landed and began to disgorge their crews. The few dozen National Guardsmen, themselves only recently arrived on site, looked more than a bit uncertain about how to handle the sudden arrival of such a large number of United Nations allies into the disaster area, but quickly adapted and began working in concert with the newcomers. Medical supplies, food, water, all were being airlifted in. The cargo bays empty, the personnel carriers would evacuate the refugees from this spot and as they came in during the coming days to centers in Houston, Oklahoma City, and elsewhere. This afternoon he'd be over at 17th street, helping to drive steel pilings into place for Gunmetal to weld, in order to seal the breach in the city's flood wall. New Orleans might not know it yet, but help had arrived... ============================================================ September 2, 2005: Lars stood in the bow of the boat as it navigated the greasy, dank waters that flooded New Orleans. Marines had arrived on site, and appeared to be managing the relief efforts around the Superdome and in the other high ground portions of the city, freeing him up from security to participate in rescue efforts elsewhere. As the boat pulled alongside the roof of a house which jutted from the waters like a strange island, Lars sprang to the rooftop and banged three times... hard enough to dent the roof. "Anyone in there?!", he shouted, then waited. "...help", came the faint response. Not the first one he'd heard today, during this grim work. "Hang on, I'll have you out in a second", he responded in turn. Reaching down he drove his fingers through the soggy roof, then ripped it open with an almost casual effort. The gaping hole displayed molding insulation, which was ripped free in moments, and the pale inhabitants of the flooded attic blinked out into the bright light at their blue and white attired rescuer. As he assisted the family of three out, Lars attempted to reassure them. This was the fifth such group he'd located today... not counting those several who had not been fortunate enough to stay above water until help arrived. Grim work, but rewarding... ============================================================== September 3, 2005: Adamant stood calmly alongside Gunmetal and Tachyon, weathering the barrage of frustration the F.E.M.A. liason was directing towards them as the representatives of the United Nations taskforce in the region. It was truly astonishing to believe that they'd been asked to depart by the government which represented the victims in this ravaged city. In no way could the work here be described as complete. These people weren't safe, and the city wasn't yet secure. Worse, they weren't hearing this from the men and women on the ground... but from some political appointee who was concerned about how it "appeared to the public" to have "foreign aid workers on American soil". To be sure they made noise about "regional security concerns" and the need for a "clear chain of command", but politics, not pragmatism motivated this decision. As if that mattered more than saving people's lives. Frankly, it made him sick to his stomach. Long moments passed, and what happened next was something which he knew he'd recall forever. Gunmetal sat there, silent as a stone for a long time, then responded to the worker in a voice like quiet thunder, "Under our mandate to protect the people of the Earth against any threat, to which the United States is a signatory member, and due to the ongoing lawlessness and violence which you've cited as a danger to the security of the city of New Orleans, we are formally declining your request that the Global Guardians and Checkmate depart the region. Now get out of our faces. We've got work to do, and these people need us." Some days were better than others. ============================================================= September 6, 2005: The past several days had been pure chaos. Mud and water, people with eyes filled with loss. He's spent countless hours hauling six thousand pound bags of sand to drop into the repairs on the city's 17th street levy. Beyond the disaster itself, the bizarre nature of the way the events were being handled was extremely disconcerting. Lars had been in a confrontation with police officers of the city earlier that very day, when they'd pointed their weapons at a news crew who were filming the body of someone they'd shot earlier. He'd thought things were going to get out of hand there for a few minutes, but after some verbal abuse, they'd departed. The media coverage was mind boggling itself... the way language was being used alone stretched his ability to comprehend. Don't refer to the refugees as "refugees", don't film the dead bodies. Now that the U.S. 82nd Airborne Division, some five thousand troops strong, had arrived, martial law had clamped down on the city. At least in most areas. Not that Checkmate had run into a whole lot of violent resistance in any case. In most cases, the people who were present were just poor... dirt poor, and lacking the resources to escape the disaster. They wanted food, water, and safety. Checkmate was able to offer them that, and get them to one of the centers for more long term assistence. Tomorrow they'd be undertaking a second phase of staged evacuations. He wasn't to participate in those however. Tonight, Lars was headed over to the breached levys, where his prodigious strength and tireless reserves would be put to use hauling more of those six thousand pound sandbags into place. That, and driving more steel pilings twenty feet into the earth, as he had the past several days. Fortunately, sleep was a luxury he didn't truly require. ============================================================ September 12, 2005: Lars and the rest of the team were boarding the Global Guardians' Sabrejet, their part in the mission complete. The city's levys were, at least for now, restored to functionality and the water was being pumped out. Immediate rescue efforts were ongoing, but no longer required the Global Guardians' presence. Checkmate would remain in the city, at a reduced operational level, to facilitate ongoing efforts. Following the leak of internal F.E.M.A. memos detailing the interchange between the United States Federal Government and Checkmate, there had been a tremendous public outcry. People were calling for heads to roll, and Lars couldn't rightly blame them. Already individuals were doubtless manuevering to minimize the fallout, but hopefully they'd be better prepared should disaster strike again. He could hope for that, in any case. For now, he and the rest could look back on this mission as a job well done. Lives had been saved, a major city was beginning to look as if it might be salvaged from the brink of annihilation. It was a good day to be a Global Guardian. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted May 12, 2006 Author Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: "Keeping The Peace" July 16, 2005 The Sabrejet arced down above the verdant countryside below. Scattered villages marked large patches of deforestation, muddy holes of drinking water were frequented by livestock. Burundi had not been left behind by the advances of civilization, but the modern world had not been kind. "Your stop, Adamant", said Los Hermanos, indicating the village below. "Thanks", said Lars, "Keep in touch". He stepped out the doorway and fell two hundred feet or more towards the ground below. Landing on his feet, he drove into the muddy soil at least a foot, then ripped free of the grasping earth to jog towards the small community of corrugated metal buildings and mud bricks. He slowed as he approached the village, noting curious (and frightened) looks from it's inhabitants. The civil war here had raged for a long time, Tutsis killing Hutus, Hutus killing Tutsis. The United Nations had intervened, but the war raged on around them. Now he was here to investigate reports of a gang of brutal meta-human warlords that were working to destabilize the region's efforts at peaceful resolution. Walking towards the village, he saw that the central square held a sealed wellhead. He recognized it as one of those distributed throughout thousands of such small towns, by Grundlage fur Gerechtigkeit, as part of their ongoing efforts to provide accessible potable drinking water to the impoverished citizens of the third world. Frightened faces peered out from windows at him, and a small group of men approached carrying worn-looking rifles at the ready. He didn't speak Kirundi, but French would be adequate given it's role as the nation's second official language. "I mean you no harm", he stated calmly, holding his hands up and pointing to the United Nations logo on the upper left quandrant of his chest. "I'm one of the Global Guardians... is there someone here who speaks for your village?" Some time later, he'd worked out that the group was part of the region being terrorized by one of the meta-human warlords they'd come to confront. A few transmissions later, he'd checked in with the rest of the team and everyone had their marching orders. The terrorizing of these people was going to stop... right now. The Sabrejet was en route to the warlord's primary stronghold, where Gunmetal and half of the team would take the malefactors into custody. Meanwhile, Lars, Tachyon, and Rook would defend villages like this one from possible reprisal. It was a solid plan, and judging by the stark fear on the local faces, one that would be met with considerable resistance from the brutal thugs who made their livings off of the suffering of their people. Adamant spent the majority of the afternoon standing around the village's central square, where eventually the curious children came out to investigate the strangely garbed, odd looking man in their midst. Over time, they lost interest in him, and the routine of the village began to return to some semblance of normalcy. The children produced a worn soccer ball and began to kick it around. Men gathered at the end of the square to discuss him, and the women remained out of sight. As dusk approached, he recieved another call from Gunmetal indicating the primary mission objective was accomplished. The stronghold had fallen, the contraband supply of Genesium being used to manufacture super-soldier enforcers was in Checkmate's hands. Lars noted an approaching plume of dust, and commented, *Good deal... did any of the warlord's men get away?* *Don't think so... why do you ask?*, responded Gunmetal quizzically. *Because I think there's a truckload of them about to show up here...*, Lars responded, *...and they don't look happy. Not at all* As Gunmetal stated the team was en route to his position, Adamant was already in motion towards the approaching vehicle. Bounding forward he leapt through the air in a soaring arc that culminated a hundred yards in front of the battered pickup truck. The approaching vehicle slammed on it's brakes and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust and flying gravel. Angry men leapt from the back, brandishing rifles. Lars eyed the men with irritation, noting that standing among them was a powerfully built man who wasn't carrying a firearm. That would be the one to watch out for. "Put your rifles down", he stated in French, "I'm Adamant of the Global Guardians, and you are all to surrender yourselves into my custody." The words hadn't even left his lips when bullets began to flatten themselves against his body. He'd expected nothing less. Lars moved forward towards the half dozen men who were peppering him with a variety of weapons, and looking considerably more concerned. The muscular fellow snarled and moved to meet him as the others scattered. Lars took a blow to the side of his head from the man... he was quicker than he looked. To his adversary's surprise, Lars wasn't even slowed by the force of a blow that could have powdered granite. He grabbed the man in a bear hug, wrapping his arms against his opponent's body with inexorable force. Kneeling on the dusty soil, he crushed the man into unconsciousness, managing his powerful struggles with little effort. The others began to scramble for the truck, realizing far too late that they were completely outmatched. Releasing his hold on the gasping and semi-conscious strong man, Lars strode over to the vehicle as it's engine fired up. Grabbing the front wheel, he lifted the truck off the ground by it's axle and shook it casually over his head, causing the occupants to rattle around the cab and fly from the bed to sprawl on the ground. Then, pulling the door off of the driver's side, he spilled the remaining passengers to the ground and hurled the vehicle through the air over fifty yards. It smashed into the ground, pinwheeling end over end to lie crushed and broken. "I said... you will surrender yourselves to my custody", Lars repeated. Pointing to a nearby section of ground, he stated, "Put your guns in a stack over there. If you attempt to escape, I'll render you unconscious". Marching them back to the village, Lars met the increasingly enthusiastic suggestions of the villagers regarding the brutal execution of the warlord's men with a grim scowl that put an end to such discussions in his presence. The thirty minutes until the Checkmate transport and the rest of the Guardians arrived to take the men into custody were extremely tense. As he boarded the team's Sabrejet, Lars ruminated on the impact their actions would have. The region remained locked in ethnic warfare, impoverished, and beset by social ills beyond number. Seizing genetically enhancing materials from local warlords seemed a paltry step, but a necessary one. He hoped that in time, their work here would be a small contribution for these people. For now, there wasn't much else they could do. The Sabrejet's engines roared and they arced away towards Governor's Island... headed home. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Iuz the Evil Posted May 12, 2006 Author Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Re: Adamant (Global Guardians PBEM) Adamant: "Comrades In Arms" November 11, 2005: The cold November rain fell on the white gravestones of Arlington National Cemetary as Lars made his way across the grassy sward towards his destination. A marble headstone marked the final resting place of the fallen hero, four others were there already, waiting. "Silas. Archie. Good to see you... been too long", he said as he approached the gravesite. Shaking hands with everyone present, and exchanging warm greetings, Lars noted with chagrin that the years had touched all of them. Some more than others, much more in some cases, where the withering hand of Time had barely rested thanks to magic or meta-gene enhancement. They were associates from a time where right and wrong had seemed clearer, and had stood shoulder-to-shoulder against one of the greatest evils that the world had ever known. Now, more than ever, he felt it important to honor them. Looking at the gravestone, through the cold rain that ran down it's surface, he contemplated the heroic nature of Uncle Sam. The man, and the legend he'd become. Uncle Sam had inspired so many with his presence, his symbolism. Ageless, unflinching, and one of the most hard-headedly stubborn men that Lars had ever met. Never before, or since, had he known anyone who had acted with such conviction. Personally, Lars found that he missed the old coot terribly. A flask was produced from someone's pocket, a toast raised to those no longer among the living. The ritual had occurred annually since the Great War, with those able to make the journey attending on the anniversary of the conflict's end. Harsh words had been exchanged between the attendees at times, but differences were always put aside during this day. As usual, there were some who could not be present... whether due to illness and infirmity, or because other duties called. Another group of the era's heroes also met at Normandy, across the ocean. Still, they were together in spirit. As he took his leave from the others, and began the cold, wet walk from the grave site through the pouring rain, Lars found himself contemplating the nature of his existence, as he so often did after these meetings. The philosophical bent to his nature seemed to demand a level of personal introspection. He wondered, as always, if in time he'd be the only one present some cold November day. Lars shivered, though not due to the rain's chill touch. Climbing into his Mercedes Benz, he fired up the engine and began the long drive back to New York. Just over four hours later, he was walking through the parking garage at the Radisson Hotel, where he'd made arrangements to meet with his teammates that evening. The Radisson had excellent banquet facilities, including a professionally quality kitchen, and he wanted to spend this evening entertaining his current comrades, just as he spent the morning reminiscing with his older ones. Lars hauled several bags of groceries which he'd acquired in Baltimore out of the Benz's trunk, and got to work preparing supper. Nothing too ostentatious, he was planning on a simple three course dinner... appetizers, entree, dessert. Some care was required, as the dietary habits of his teammates varied considerably. To the extent possible, he'd ensure that the meal was appetizing for all... and would prepare alternative fare for those who wouldn't find a given course palateable. Aurin was the most difficult, as his digestive system didn't permit the ingestion of meat, as gorillas are herbivorous by nature. Nothing that a little forethought and attention to detail couldn't overcome, however. Over an hour later, the advance preparation to actually cook the meal complete, Lars turned his attention to the dining hall itself. The flatware was laid out, tablecloths neatly spread... all had been arrayed per his specifications. Walking over to the stereo system, Lars flipped through a handful of selections and unfolded the manual with a sigh. He never did like working these things... His teammates had been extremely gracious, well... mostly gracious. Rook tried, but just seemed to struggle with the conventions of twenty-first century culture. Still, he did try. The dining hall prepared, quiet classical music (Brahms) piping into the chamber, Lars went back to the kitchen to craft the feast itself. When the rest of the group arrived, he'd arrayed the appetizers at the place settings, and offered a variety of libations for their enjoyment. Lars did love to cook, and he rarely was afforded the opportunity to cook for others. He had no intention of doing anything this evening by half-measures. As his friends arrived, he smiled and toasted their health, enjoying the puzzlement which greeted his actions. Raising a glass, Lars said, "I've been with you for over a year. During that time, I have come to respect the membership of this organization, one and all, and I hope that the feeling is mutual. We've saved lives, protected the innocent, and I hope truly made a difference during this time. Today is a day that I have been reminiscing about those who have beem my comrades-in-arms during other conflicts... I wanted to let you know that I consider it a great personal honor to call you my teammates, and my friends. To the Global Guardians." Clinking glasses and the camaraderie of a shared toast followed this announcement, and Lars made his way to the kitchen where he put the finishing touches on the main entree, and checked the status of the custard he was going to use for the creme brulee. All in all, a thoroughly satisfying day. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.