Djinni
Junior Member
Time: 15:13
Location: Near Prost! at an unfortunate taxi
At Scene: Superhero The Hammer and provisional Superhero Alexandria, as well as some others.
Threat Level: Unknown
Threats: None
What an interesting little game was being played here today. It hadn't been all that long since he'd "escaped" the prison that presumed to hold him. A grin spread his lips, a cold breeze passing through the area almost like foreshadowing brought to life. His old friends were at it again. It had been a while since he'd been able to have some fun, and what a chance it was. His vacation was up, and time to get to work.
Focusing on the precision of his spell, he worked on old spellwork. The kind of work that only a scant few old souls knew, from back when you had to really watch what you were doing... Or you might get sucked out to a place between worlds where you would pray to die. Ah, how volatile the world was then. Drawing the code in his phone to keep it from activating, the man in the white suit grinned to himself. Touchscreens were truly revolutionary for magic. Easy to keep from flowing your magic into your phone, and it's nice and subtle. Putting the finishing touches on the work, a proto-circle one might say, he changed.
His flesh changed tone, going into a deep tan, with curly hair. His thin body, normally thin enough to be called sickly, grew. A lot. He went from being practically a stick man to being almost absurdly buff. His suit changed, too; gone was the clean white three piece, the pristine slacks, the immaculately clean shoes. Instead was sandles and a toga. Walking up to the taxi, it would seem quite odd to anyone who glanced this way... But to the deity in the car, there could be no mistake. This was no crazy in a pinned up towel. This was not just anyone. "It's been a while since Troy," said the very dead Agamemnon. A deep scan would show this was no impostor, but the soul who fought in the great battles of Troy. "Think your car here could take us there?" He asked cheekily as energy of chaos pulsed throughout the car, briefly giving the steering wheel a face, the dashboard sobbing tears of molten glass as the ancient Greek hero tapped Ares' shoulder with the phone and connecting with the deific energy therein.
The resulting blast was... Incredible, to say the least. The divine energy of Ares blew through the region, rocking the nearby bar in it's foundation. Strong enough to destabilize the illusions present. The car, and the concrete below it, were slag. The glass was shot high into the air, first a liquid, then cooling to a solid as it flew into the nearby buildings. All of this occurred as the deity was called out, and all eyes were on the car. This wasn't an attack; it was a show.
Across town, a smirk graced the lips of a man in a white suit, offering a toast to the good fortune to an arms dealer industrial partner of his. It felt good, being back in the game. His foes got too confident with him being locked up. Too comfortable. The OA would fear the man in white, Alois Abadie, The Champion of the Dead. The Gravedigger was back, and he was breaking dirt. After all, people tend to die in war, and he just declared it. With a gag. Declaring war with the energy of War himself; what else could they expect from a god slayer?
Time to shake shit up.
Location: Near Prost! at an unfortunate taxi
At Scene: Superhero The Hammer and provisional Superhero Alexandria, as well as some others.
Threat Level: Unknown
Threats: None
What an interesting little game was being played here today. It hadn't been all that long since he'd "escaped" the prison that presumed to hold him. A grin spread his lips, a cold breeze passing through the area almost like foreshadowing brought to life. His old friends were at it again. It had been a while since he'd been able to have some fun, and what a chance it was. His vacation was up, and time to get to work.
Focusing on the precision of his spell, he worked on old spellwork. The kind of work that only a scant few old souls knew, from back when you had to really watch what you were doing... Or you might get sucked out to a place between worlds where you would pray to die. Ah, how volatile the world was then. Drawing the code in his phone to keep it from activating, the man in the white suit grinned to himself. Touchscreens were truly revolutionary for magic. Easy to keep from flowing your magic into your phone, and it's nice and subtle. Putting the finishing touches on the work, a proto-circle one might say, he changed.
His flesh changed tone, going into a deep tan, with curly hair. His thin body, normally thin enough to be called sickly, grew. A lot. He went from being practically a stick man to being almost absurdly buff. His suit changed, too; gone was the clean white three piece, the pristine slacks, the immaculately clean shoes. Instead was sandles and a toga. Walking up to the taxi, it would seem quite odd to anyone who glanced this way... But to the deity in the car, there could be no mistake. This was no crazy in a pinned up towel. This was not just anyone. "It's been a while since Troy," said the very dead Agamemnon. A deep scan would show this was no impostor, but the soul who fought in the great battles of Troy. "Think your car here could take us there?" He asked cheekily as energy of chaos pulsed throughout the car, briefly giving the steering wheel a face, the dashboard sobbing tears of molten glass as the ancient Greek hero tapped Ares' shoulder with the phone and connecting with the deific energy therein.
The resulting blast was... Incredible, to say the least. The divine energy of Ares blew through the region, rocking the nearby bar in it's foundation. Strong enough to destabilize the illusions present. The car, and the concrete below it, were slag. The glass was shot high into the air, first a liquid, then cooling to a solid as it flew into the nearby buildings. All of this occurred as the deity was called out, and all eyes were on the car. This wasn't an attack; it was a show.
Across town, a smirk graced the lips of a man in a white suit, offering a toast to the good fortune to an arms dealer industrial partner of his. It felt good, being back in the game. His foes got too confident with him being locked up. Too comfortable. The OA would fear the man in white, Alois Abadie, The Champion of the Dead. The Gravedigger was back, and he was breaking dirt. After all, people tend to die in war, and he just declared it. With a gag. Declaring war with the energy of War himself; what else could they expect from a god slayer?
Time to shake shit up.
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