Strikeforce: Morituri Part One "the Mortals" Is Completed

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 001
“Morituri: We Who Are About To Die”

I am a Man.

I am a Man of Spirit.

I am a Guardian.

I am a Guardian of the greatest evil.

I am Morituri.

I effortlessly and silently had entered the temple of The Tattooed Man. This temple worshipped a being of great danger and menace to the entire multiverse. Unknown to most of the world, I am sworn to ensure this evil never rises again. It is the entire reason for my current existence. I am Morituri in fact and name.

The cult that gathers to worship their Darque Master has become very cunning in their affairs. They set up bases of operations that are not easily attainable by me. They have always chosen dark and strife filled worlds and areas before. But now they use alternate realities also. This is dangerous as much of the Darque Master’s power was secretly placed here within the outer alternate multiverses. Could they know? Are they searching for him and his artifacts?

There are few guards within the temple. I grow anxious, as this appears to be a ruse rather than a major temple of Darque. If they have abandoned or left it…then why….

I am near its center now. I have reached its offering room and have found the answer. An energy nexus is here. It is unstable and will destroy the temple. I turn and see the fullness of the trap. A legion of cultist has come in behind me. I am trapped and will surely die. Again.

I quickly call on the magic of my mentor. Her power pulls me out of this reality even as the nexus becomes corrupt and explodes. 100’s of cultists have perished. The temple will be destroyed. Why? Why sacrifice so much to try to remove myself? They know I can jump realities easily.

I reappear on my home plane. The Collective. It is outside of Time and Reality. It is a melting pot of the realities in truth. A good place to hide something in great need of being hidden. It takes me two days to journey to my own temple. Then I come to understand.

The doors are broken. The wards spent. The sacrifice of the cultists and their temple was a tradeoff to enter my own. It has cost them many followers but they seem endless. I race swiftly through the halls finding remains where wards and mechanical traps functioned. But they kept on. They know!

I race to the inner most chambers. The chamber has three possessions within it. A tattooed thigh bone, a heavily tattooed skin of an albino gaunt man and a gem. All are missing! How can this be? These items are warded against any evil. Even the gods would have difficulty entering these three rooms if evil tainted their blood.

Then I sense him before I hear him.

I turn. There is a black uniformed man holding a mere child before him. I realize my folly immediately. They used an innocent child to enter the rooms. The child would be misled or misguided to do their bidding. An innocent child!

A black leather gloved hand reaches up to the Monk. Within it is a glass capsule filled with red dust. “Welcome guardian. Welcome to your second death.” He drops the object, which shatters, on the stone floor. The child immediately coughs and withers. His skin becomes taunt and red. Morituri can only look in fear. He has breathed in the dust. His will tries to stop the change but it is too powerful.

“I am truly sorry. I have failed the multiverse”

 

[drnuncheon]

So...not based on the old comic series, then? Ah well. Seems interesting, I'm awaiting the next update!

 

[megamania]

So...not based on the old comic series, then? Ah well. Seems interesting, I'm awaiting the next update!

Not exactly. If you are a fan of comicbooks however watch this series.


A quick sidenote about this storyhour. Recently I tried to a Planar travel storyline with friends. It failed mostly due to outside responcibilties (family / work). So I am doing this much like my Under a Darksun storyhour. I run all the characters but there are character sheets and I do roll out results.

Now, as far as this storyhour- what makes it different?

I will be forming a PC party made up of comicbook heroes, Dnd type characters and place them in adventures that allow them to explore other planes. Some of these planes are "alternate" realities. Meaning? What if Elminister were CE? Forgotten Realms would be a VERY different world.

Once all of EN World's "bugs" are out of their system I will be p[osting the story in Segments. Segments are 1-2 page pieces / chapters I use and number for referrenceing purposes.

I hope everyone enjoys it. I'm having fun just creating 18-25th level characters (which takes time also).

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 002
“The Captain”

The man let out a long sigh and rubbed his neck and then his temples. He took another sip of the green tea before returning to his reading by the fireplace. His blonde hair was perfect with a slight wave to it. His blue eyes sparkled of brilliance and energy. Before him were several files. On the top of each were names. The top folder was labeled Vander. Inside was a serious of photos, drawings and pages of descriptions. He closed the file and neatly shuffled the five files into a perfect stack and pushed them away. He picked up a sugar wafer cookie and only tapped it to his mouth. And he thought dying was the hardest thing he was to do.

He got and stretched. Under his robe were many strong athletic muscles and yet he showed great grace. He was once his country’s greatest warrior. Some felt he was their greatest hope to end the war of wars. If so, he had failed and this weighed heavily on him. He walked to the mantle and looked at a small glass orb. It was told to him to be magical.

Magical.

He once considered the word to mean special or extra special. He has since learned it meant other things. He saw what magic could do for the first time very recently. At least to him it was very recently. What he saw has terrorized him to his core and it also cost him his best friend’s life. It cost him HIS life.

He picked up his tea and stared into the crystal ball. He saw the air battle again. He saw his friend die in a fiery blast caused by…magic. He downed the tea and poured another. He had to be ready. He was to be their leader. He had to learn. He had to learn about Magic.

He looked at the files once more and spread them out neatly. He was to lead a team of Special Forces unlike any he knew or could even dream of. These were no trained soldiers in his mind. One was a damned brute. Another a psychotic woman proclaiming she could heal any wound. Another woman who said she used magic to master the weather. The fourth was possibly the worst. He was a mere thief that was dishonorably discharged from his country for acts of terrorism and aggression.

The tall man sat back down and looked over the files once more. His heart was not in it. He belonged to another time…another reality it seemed. He closed his eyes and fell fast asleep. A troubled sleep it was however.

The soldier went down in a hurry. Private Buckley had struck him perfectly with the canister of gas. Together Buckley and his Captain dragged the body out of sight. They moved slowly and silently through the warehouse trying to get closer. Something was happening here. Something that was so important and unexpected that the Captain and his small force of trained soldiers was called away from entering the secret base of the leader of the aggressive country. They were now within the Arctic Circle near the home of the large and powerful country of the Red Bear.

It did not take long to find the warehouse. Bribes and threats of violence not coming were all that was needed for men of weak minds and weaker wills. The warehouse was built oddly enough away from the waters and onto a small mountainside. Large caverns were linked to it and well guarded. But well enough for Buckley and his Captain.

Inside they found air ships unlike any other ever seen. They were larger and could carry weapons of mass destruction. Due to their location, these ships could fly over the Arctic and attack his country. This offence was not to happen. The Captain decided this long ago. Even before he became The Captain.

A battle broke out. Several of the ships began to leave. One was being operated by non-other than the Crimson Man. He was rumored to be a secret top level agent for the Country of the Boar. A rogue agent however. A mad man with an intelligence that went beyond any known man on the world.

Buckley was a gifted boy himself. After they defeated the ground troops, he figured out how to fly the ship. Together, he and The Captain went after the Crimson Man. They caught up with him over the ice. An air battle broke out. The Crimson Man’s wingmen were shot down but Buckley had taken several hits. The Captain’s round throwing shield had saved him from most of it.

Desperate and without any means of stopping him, Buckley and the Captain tried to ram the craft together. Instead, bolts of energy, possibly lightning shot out and damaged the ship further. The Captain tried one desperate measure. Despite the fierce and frigid cold winds he opened his overhead window and had Buckley fly close. Instead of ramming the craft, the Captain leapt from one to another. Even as he did this, a blast of hellish fire burst from one plane to another. The image of Buckley the Captain has is of his open-mouthed scream of pain and anger. Then the ball of fire with his craft fell to the ice below.

The Captain attacked the craft’s engines using his hardened round throwing shield. He felt a crushing blow from behind and fell. To this day he swears he saw a large glowing hand there. He fell and fell and fell. He passed out before hitting the water. He awoke as he hit the frigid liquid. Bones burst and his shield broke. His armored jacket dragged him under the surface. Under the surface into oblivion.

He then awoke speaking to a light. The light said it had work for him. If he agreed, he could live and ask for any ONE wish when it was over. Otherwise, he could die in the cold icy water.

Angered by the Injustice, The Captain readily agreed without thinking about the situation. He never thought about the light. He only thought about….Truth, Justice and his country’s way. And the villain whom looked to blow it all up.

The Crimson Man’s laughter erupts and awakens the Captain. Pale and obviously unnerved, he clears his throat and returns to his work.

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 003
“Vander Stormbringer”

He was a big man. Always was. Even in on the island Wavely on Athas he was considered a big man. However, as a big man on an island known for philosophers, he was not respected. He cared little for the tricky words. They often confused him and bound him to do things he didn’t want to. He hated it.

He was nothing to look at. He was not handsome or bright. He was just big. Sometimes, in secret, he wished he were a dainty respected man that everyone looked up to. Whenever he thought this way he would laugh.

Vander hasn’t laughed in a long time.

The big man was within a simple room with a fire burning. He had requested oil and polish. He was spending his last quiet day fixing his armor and weapons. He didn’t want to reflect on his past. He had hoped NOT to by keeping himself busy. But his memories, his painful awful memories were too strong for him.

He paused looking at his hands and forearms. They were big and heavily callused from hard work. From what felt like hundreds of years of hard work. He took pride that he could still identify most scars by battle and who gave it to him. He became pail seeing one scar. It ran the length of his arm. He received it in a place best forgotten. He was given it by something best avoided.

He put down his chest plate and carefully placed the oil and its smeared rag on a table. A bottle of strong drink was there. Beside it a glass and another bottle. This one water. He stared hard at the liquor. There was a time he enjoyed such drink around a campfire. But no more. It reminded him too much of the better times.

Why?

Why was he so damned? Was this last contract the reason? He had fought all his life. He should have died at the great battle of Utopia in southern Tyr Valley. He should’ve died when he pulled that cursed card from the deck of Wondrous Things. He should have died (slowly and VERY painfully) at the hands of Barticuss Filthy. He did die at the hands of Queen Ten Bites. He did die…right?

His entire life was of conflict and war mixed with other’s hatred. Vander Stormbringer was a contractual mercenary with limited psychic powers. He fought in several battles before joining the army of General Irikos. General Irikos was a strong and heavy-handed leader. Vander liked that in some ways. He was leading an army of 10,000 men to Utopia. Utopia had been corrupted by magic used by the various non-human races. Vander hoped not to fight them even then. He feared magic.

He had seen magic but twice before then. Once a novice was practicing something referred to as a Magic Missile. His family only had ashes to bury. Another time, a novice blew up an entire city block. Many died. Magic is evil. There was no doubt of that in his mind. Psionics however were pure. They came from within you. They were a part of the user.

He and the other soldiers gathered. He was amongst the newest to arrive. He was still many hundred miles away from the city when it happened. Powerful magics were unleashed. Powerful psionics were also released to block the onslaught. Too much raw energy was released at once. He remembers seeing a mushroom like cloud with a bright light. The light burned or blinded most viewers’ eyes. Then came the black winds.

He should have died there and then. But he didn’t.

He was wisked away and found himself in another reality and plane. Allon. It was so very different from his known Athas. Orcs were greatly distrusted. Many humanoid races were at war and huddled in barbaric tribes in the wilds. Magic. Magic was freely used and used with the greatest of respect. Psionics were nearly unheard of. They only place he found to train further his skills was within a monastery in Skydock. It was so strange.

Here he meant his only true friend. Snak. He was a dwarf whom believed he got his powers to heal from a deity named Kord. Vander and him spoke of Kord often when playing games of chance or building their strength through exercise. Snak clearly didn’t understand Vander and his truth. Vander had never known of a god. He was positive his dwarven friend was mistaken. He figured the dwarf to be a psion or psychic warrior like himself whom had lost his way from the dwarven city lead by his king. King Rkard.

He battled his first ever dragon ( a wyvern but you tell him that) and drove it away by himself. Snak, his best friend was being hunted by it during a night of having too much drink. He was also involved in something he very much understood. A war.

Gnolls and Bugbears were forming an alliance to over run the outer towns. The halfling villages never knew what hit them. It was during this conflict that the team’s mage, Kessem, had found a box with magical cards. She was hesitating to use them. She sensed their might. Snak only knew it was cards and he had lost his in a battle.

No. Vander stops. He has been pacing about the room. He now leans against the stone wall with his head against his arms. No. Snak knew better. He knew the dangers and welcomed them.

He goes to the table and looks at the drinks. He pours a small amount of strong drink into the glass. He sniffs it. If is sweet and strong. But no. He will not drink! He throws the cup into a fire where the flames rush high and mighty before returning to their normal steady pace.

Snak was a follower of Kord. He respected this god for his great strength and his willingness to take chances. He had talked Vander into taking one card. One card only. Kessem had taken one card and seemed smarter for it. Maybe this wasn’t magic afterall. Maybe it was psionic in nature. He reluctantly reached forward with a trembling hand. At that moment Snak also reached in great haste and bumped Vander’s hand. To his horror he pulled free THREE cards!

He was gone.

He never saw Snak again (and believed it).

He awoke in the abyss. He was a prisoner and plaything of the Pit Fiend Bartacuss Filthy. Filthy experimented on his new tool. He would break it then repair it. He would break it then repair it. Vander could do nothing but scream. And he did. Loud and often.

This went on for years (decades? Centuries?) until Filthy was summoned to visit a powerful ally in Acheron. Vander was traded for a new toy. A paladin! Vander was caste into the Great War with nothing but his scars and memories. He fought and won. He continued to until he gained new armor and recognition. Too much apparently. A rival merc and overall bi*** decided to take out Vander. Queen Ten Bites was a large ugly 1/½rc. When she defeated Vander and his group of mercenaries, she took him as her plaything also.

Filthy was about pain and torment. Ten Bites was about lust and things best not said or thought about. Vander was further disgraced. His indestructible spirit was weakening. She was winning and knew it. He willed death and unlike Filthy, she could not heal him or repair him. In time, she broke him beyond repair. He died.

Or did he?

His spirit never left the body. He was beginning to think he was still a captive of Filthy whom had only thought of a great ruse to give him new pain. To give him hope. He was left for dead…unburied.

That night a light spoke to him. If he agreed to one last contract…he live a life that never involved Filthy. Never involved Ten Bites. A life with respect.

Vander staggered to the corner of his room. The bottle of water was split on the table. The liquor…empty and now on the floor. He curled up into a ball and began to cry. He wanted his love back. He wanted his…Snak.

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 004
“Christina of the Mace”

Christina Van Culterdoss sat within her room very quietly. Wearing nothing but two rings and a necklace she meditated. A small blackcat stared at her from the mantle. It was curled up and flicked it’s thin tail irregularly. Her armor gleamed near the fireplace and her heavy mace outright shined. The light given off seemed to pulse irregularly. Behind her, the shadows shifted and were lighter. It was as if something or someone was there but could not be seen with normal vision. Christina just sat there and meditated.

“Meow!” called the cat as she sat up then began to stretch. The very hairs stood up then relaxed as the cat relaxed. “Meeeow!” it called again.

“Yes Momma. I know” smiled Christina with her concentration still strong. Christina had auburn hair that had slight waves in it. She reached up and stretched herself. She stopped in mid stretch. “Yes Mom…I will.” She said before opening her green sparkling eyes. She stood up stretching further. It was slow and sensual. “Mother! It’s not like I’m with a man. I was merely stretching.” She turned and walked towards the cat. She ran her fingers over the heavy mace while looking to the shadows. “I know my purpose. I will not fail. Please…let me be.”

The cat licked at its whiskers then at it’s raised paw. “Meow” it seemed to say something to her.

“No Momma. I am uncertain what the Goddess has in mind. She spoke of forming a team…a Strikeforce I heard it referred to. It will be led by a soldier from a reality that has forgotten magic.” She pauses for a moment and nods her head softly. “Yes, a strange choice. I agree but I must trust her completely. Yes Mother, I know you do. You always trust her with all your heart.”

The cat turns it’s back to her and lies down again. One would think it is trying to ignore this talking human.

“Don’t be like that Momma. You know I hate it when you do that.” Christina goes to the cat and pats it once. Then goes to her table. On the table is a bag with many things hidden within. She opens it and imagines a piece of fruit found only in the Spice Islands of Caldonia. She sits and peels off the soft skin.
“How does it feel Mom? I mean…I died…yet here I am. Shouldn’t I be…different or something? I thought it would be so. Is it for you? Uh-huh. Oh. Yeah, I understand that. I should consider myself lucky. You’re right.”

Lost in her thoughts, Christina of the Mace sits back holds the fruit to her mouth but only smells it’s sweetness. Her thoughts and senses are reverting to her last mortal day…. Just yesterday.

She was battling a demon from a reality where they took over Faerun after killing Elminister and the Seven Sisters. The demon was immensely powerful and highly skilled with swords. It wielded the very swords once held by a well-known drow whom captured Mithril Hall for his Queen before dying at the hands of a woman raised by a dwarf. She held her own against him but then discovered he was merely playing with her. It summoned a warrior to it to attack her. This warrior attacked her from behind. Then 100’s, perhaps thousands of lesser demons swooped in and attacked her. Ravaged and overpowered, she died.

She and her equipment were teleported away from the creatures before they could defile the warm corpse. The Avatar addressed her once more. Fight again or rest eternally. She decided to fight. She knew she could the demon lord if she ever faced him again.

She shook with a start when she realized she was day dreaming. “Yes Mother. This time we will win.”

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 005
“Megamania”

from Poison
Something To Believe In
1990 Capital Records

“He cries forgive me for what I’ve done there
Forgive me for the things I did
And give me something to believe in
If there’s a Lord above
Give me something to believe in”

The young looking man sings to himself. His messy hair swept back but jutting out everywhere from being subject to constant abuse by a worn hat and miscare. It is a boyish look he secretly loves to have. He flips out the cards looking at every third one. Solitary. How he hates the game.

He doesn’t so much hate the game itself. Just he hates being bored and to play solitary means he is fighting boredom. He grumbles them tosses the cards onto his five rows of alternating red and black numbered cards.

“AAAARRRRGH!”

He runs his black gloved hands through his hair again furthering its messed up look. He looks first straight up into the darkness with a look of why me. He then takes in his environment once more. A table, a chair, a fireplace and a cot. Basic food and drink on the table. No Mountain Dew.

He puts his ball cap on the center of the table and begins to toss the cards one by one into it. 52 cards in he hurumphs in a mixture of accomplishment and boredom. He gets up and checks for a door. He takes time doing it but finds one. With a big smile he opens it. Jet…Black…Nothingness….

“I was better off dead.”

He lies down on his cot. He looks into the ceiling again. “So, a conman, a priest and a lady of the night walk into a bar….”

He sits upright quickly. His nerves are tense and he can not sit still. He is Jim Addards. His Codename is Megamania.

He is quite proud of this name. His superiors that issued this codename to him did not mean it to be a compliment. Mania= sudden bursts of physical and mental energy often released violently. Mega= x1000. He thought it fit him well.

He hums a rock song to himself as he reaches for his weapons. He checks his Kevlar cased Nylon batons, which are especially hardened, and light but gives a solid strike. He then looks into his Energy Sidearm. This experimental weapon has saved him several times in the past. He escaped terrorists, assassins and even the almighty bad guy himself- Vandal Boc.

Vandal Boc.

Jim’s life was simple before this dictator came into his life. Before the dreams, before the cultists Before…Jennifer.

Jim picks up his kevlar-armored mask and stares into its green eyes. With a smirk known to make some girls swoon, he thinks about a few adventures he had as an US spy in the Pathfinders Program. He puts the mask down so that it faces him as he sits down on the lone chair once more.

“So Mister Mania….How did you ever become a great multi-planar defender of the realities that you don’t gave a ***king damn about?”

“Well Barbara, it began when I was a High School student in AMHS. I didn’t know it then but I was destined to combat the nastiest evil guy Earth has in its myth. You know…..”I hope you guess my name” guy. Stephan King referred to him as the Walking Man.”

His agents tried to kill me then but failed. After that, the Government got me in a college program and trained me to be a spy. Not like James Bond…I do more Recon that silliness he does. As time went, I had dreams of the big day. Good vs Evil. Fate of Earth. That kinda thing.

“That must have been hard on you. How do you cope with the knowledge that you are earth’s savior?”

Careful of your wording. I’m no saint nor savior. I kill their opposites.

“Kill. Doesn’t that sound harsh?”

err…nope.

“How did that get you to here today?”

Welp…I confronted that sick SOB ***k-faced sorry bastard bad excuse of a human like being and…first was kicked out of the spy game and later killed.

A shocked look of realization strikes him. Strikes him profoundly. Pale and awestruck he shudders. “oh…my…god…!”

It fits. It fits so perfectly. How did I not see it then. The ***king Government set me up! Vandal knew I was coming!

Jim leaps up and knocks over his chair. He backhands the emotionless mask. It thumps against the wall and lands upright…facing him once more.

At least now he finally knew what he wanted for his services rendered. Vandal Boc and the traitor are presented on a silver platter.

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 006
“Storm Wielder”

She tried to sleep but could not. Being trapped in this small windowless room was too much. She craved the wide-open expanse of the sky. She wanted to feel the winds on her body, the caress of the rain, the warmth of Lightning flashing closely. She wanted to scream and shout in rapturous joy. She wanted to be free.

She had allows valued her personal freedom and the freedom of others above everything else. Even on her floating fishing village south of Alnarma in the Strait of Svimohzia she was free. She swam and played all day as a child. Later she helped pick the aquatic fruits from their seaweed island. She helped clean the fish caught by her father. It was a good life.

Too bad much of it was a lie.

He took out her hair tie allowing her pure white hair to fall down to the lower regions of her back. Her sun- darkened skin was just as smooth and soft at 28 as it was at 13. Her blue eyes saddened for a moment. 13. I was 13 when I learned my father was not my natural father. It was from then on she slowly grew up to be known as The Storm Wielder.

In the years since, she was taken as a slave by pirates, escaped them and tried to survive on the streets of Bel Kalamar. She was caught stealing by a mage whom saw something in her. Possibly her father’s nature. She was taught magic. She took to it well enough; especially magic involving storms and weather. She had found her new place in the world of Kalamar.

She traveled the area around the capital seeking out adventure and fun. Secretly, she was hiding from her father- her real father. She moved further inland away from her beloved seaways and ocean. Here she discovered a plot by cultists called Darque Ones. She tried to stop them along with other adventurers turned heroes. They couldn't do more than hold at the bay their activities but this was enough. They tried to kill her in direct battle; using loved ones (dead and alive) and even hiring assassins but nothing defeated her or her band of outlaw adventurers.

The cultists called on the planar mercenaries known only as The Legion. Their sole purpose- find and destroy Storm Wielder and her friends.

The coming battles took over a year to complete but they won. Storm Wielder and her friends were dead.

The cultists are now free to renew their plans of global expansion of death and destruction.

Her spirit screamed in outrage. It was not fair. She was cheated of her victory. She wanted a second shot. She pleaded for a second shot. Enter the Goddess of Realities.

She sat down and yawned on her cot. Soon. Soon she would have her revenge. Soon the cultists of Darqueness will die again. And the Legion…oh how she couldn’t wait. A storm was gathering power. Soon it would break. It will have no mercy for any in league or within the Legion.

Storm Wielder was going to kill every single one of them…throughout the realities and planes.

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 007
“The First Mission”

“It is time”

These words are mentally spoken to each of the five members of Strikeforce: Morituri. Magically sealed doors open at each room allowing the member to gain access to outside of the room. The Captain picks up his stuff and begins to leave the through the door. He stops and looks at the empty mantle. He goes back and places the crystal ball back on it. “I will be back for you Buckley…I promise you this.” He turns and exits the room. Vander spends a few moments gathering his equipment and armor. He stops and stands still holding his metal winged helmet in one hand. He takes a moment as if in prayer then cautiously exits the room. Christina gathers her armor and equipment. The stubborn cat slowly stretches then pounces off the warm mantle and catches up with her quickly. Storm Wielder quietly dresses and goes out. Mania…well he is not there in his room.

The hallways were strangely built to him. It reminded him of Styxville’s capital where Vandal Boc set up a base of operations. There were large stone blocks set with much artistic and skill but wires and pipes were held high. It was ancient yet modern at the same time. Mania had left the room about 2 minutes before someone called to him. He had heard of psychics before. Gellar, Cayce and Theta were the premiere leaders in the field but to think one would use the power of the mind on him surprised him. He suspected that there was no way to block it out so he did the opposite. He thought long and hard. He thought about something to disturb the person invading his mind. He imagined cartoon characters at the Playboy mansion. At the very least, he found it humorous. Garfield, Calvin & Hobbies, Veronica, Blonde and her husband…even the Peanuts. He couldn’t help but to think about Einstein ‘s famous quote-
“Imagination is more important than Knowledge.”

He followed the hallway that passed a few doors. He considered opening them but remembered the jolt he took forcing his open. It was rigged with voodoo or the such. No wires or transmitters. Just a softly glowing rune. If this was a precursor to his immediate future, he was going to have to learn more about magic or voodoo or whatever it was he found himself involved in.

He found the corridor led to a large well-lit room. This room was at least 50ft tall! Book shelves and catwalks separated the rows of books by levels with ladders and spiral stairways allowing one to go up and down. He looked to the ceiling. There was a celestial appearing star chart that seemed to move. Weird. His eyes came back down to the floor level. Here were a series of comfortable chairs and a long wooden table. Papers and small pouches were set in piles on the table. A meeting was to occur here he thought to himself.

He went to the table being careful to look about for guards and security devices. An owl fluffed its feathers within a large wicker cell. It blinked and followed Megamania with its gaze. Ignoring the bird, he went to a folder. It had some writing on it that was difficult to read. He guessed it to a name of a place or person. He opened it and saw a picture of a very large and muscular man like beast. It looked like it could tear a man apart limb by limb easily.

He then heard a soft footstep behind him. He whirled about pulling out one of his billy clubs in one hand and had his hand resting on his energy gun. Before him stood a large athletic man wearing leather armor reinforced with metal and studs. He had the look of a leader. As he reached out with his hand to greet him he saw the armor better. It had suggestive symbols of America. This made him curious. The round metal shield was also strange. It seemed impractical. It was a disk…not a normal shield. It was heavily scratched and dented.

“I am Captain Stevens. You may call me The Captain. Welcome Megamania” His voice was steady and strong. There was no doubt in Megamania’s mind that he was military. That didn’t settle well in his gut.
But then again…what has since he discovered he was to kill an agent of someone…something he didn’t believe in.

Two heavily armored persons walked up beside the Captain. “I am known as Christina of the Mace. I welcome you.” Vander looked at her and the others. It was obvious he was sizing them up as soldiers and by character. “I am known only as Vander. My full name is Vander Stormbringer”

“Did I hear someone mention a storm? “ came a woman’s voice from the corridor that they all used to enter the room. “I am known as the Storm Wielder but you may call me Jean if you wish.” Megamania stared at her but to size up her powers…perhaps if she had a character trait he hoped for.

“Welcome all. Welcome Strikeforce: Morituri. I am Teresa. I work here in the library of the realities. Please take a seat.” She spoke from high up on the fourth level. She leaned over the railing surveying her library and the people standing within it. She had a golden gold about her. A visible aura of power was present. It was more obvious as she slowly floated up and over the railing and settled to the head of the table.

Everyone was dumbfounded except for Jean and Christina. Jean herself could do this herself (though with more force than grace) while Christina bowed while on her knees. After another few seconds, she got up and the six of them sat down. Momma, the cat, settled down on a soft chair nearby to possibly oversee and eavesdrop on the talk.

“Each of you have something in common with the other. Each of you died battling agents of Darque. Each of you wishes to right the wrongs this death has possibly created. Each of you were pulled from the moment of death by the Grace of the Goddess of Realities and given a chose. Each of you has agreed. The pact is simple. Help stop Darque before he becomes too powerful and a new reality will be created as you wish it to be. Loved ones can walk and talk again. A war that has lasted for an eternity may finally end. It will be as you imagine it. I am asked to reaffirm your decision.”

Each agrees with a yes or a yes followed by comments of red and blue pills, which draw looks of dislike from all.

The agents of Darque have misjudged one thing. By using human agents, we travel through time and space rapidly. If we hurry, we can collect his artifacts of power before his agents even know you are seeking them.

If we can gather his artifacts first, we may very well stop him from illegally altering any further universes or worse yet…destroying any.

Now if you care to open the books before you……

The meeting goes on for several hours. There are files about key Darque agents, key items of power and most importantly, how to handle these items. There are suggestions about the realities that will face and the key rulers within them. The first one takes place in the Reality line of Marvel 5.7.8. This simply means the core universe is known as Marvel and the version they will travel to has had 7 major changes and 8 minor since splitting off from the core line. Only Christina seems not overwhelmed by the possibilities.

As expected, it is Megamania whom speaks up the more often. “So what you are saying is there are more realities than the ones we came from. These alter creating new ones. Thus…there could be dozens, hundreds even thousands of …me? I mean..com’on. That’s silly. Will the real Megamania please stand up?”

A smile appears on Teresa’s face. The smile of a mother looking for patience while finding humor in a child’s constant questioning of it’s surrounding. “Yes Jim Addards. There are realities where you die at the stake on that fateful night of October 31st , one where you have died but returned to life through the use of technology that grants you superhuman powers* , Where you have no abilities except for your incredible reflexes** and even another where you battle great forces of evil, outside and within you in a world a bit more barbaric than any you know.***

If Darque finds the Core reality and destroys it, he destroys all the realities tied to it. This is why it is so important and needs to be defended.

“Why us?” asks Vander in a monotone voice with no feelings or hint of emotion.

“Because Darque tried to find the core reality by destroying your own. Because you can and I can not.”

“Can not or will not” comments Megamania turning his head to look at the strangely attentive cat that is glaring at him.

“The goddess and her Avatars may not directly enter this conflict. It is part of the godly code. Those that must live within reality can only protect realities. Gods do not…always.”

The Captain stands up pushing off the tabled with his fisted knuckles. “This is not a time of why. We are honor bound to complete this contract. We all are. To save my world, it is not just I that need to act, but all of us. Let us put aside our differences and questions and commence quickly before the agents of Darque learn of our formation and reasons.

Silence.

Okay then- I will be the field leader. I ask you to open up your files and look at the first picture within. We will have to go through this beast to get the first item. He is known as The Brute Master. Others call him Maestro.

And so it begins…..


* Lt Mania from Champions Game I play in
** A comicbook script I had to present to Valiant Comics back in ’91
*** Under a Darksun version as told in another Story Hour

 

[megamania]

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 008
“Lost”

The Captain was the first to step out of the portal. He looked about and saw no possible threats. He went through and guarded the portal as Vander heavily stepped through. He was tired of portals. The others followed and then the portal closed.

“Desert. I hate the desert.” Replies Christina. “I get the worse chaffing from my armor in this hot arid air.”

Megamania opens his mouth to say something about stripping but stops as her cat glares directly into his tinted eyes. That cat gives him the hee bee jee bees. He has seen well trained animal guards and knows they are capable of emotions but this black cat takes it too far.

“Everyone have his or her sensor on?” asks The Captain as he shields his wristband from the glaring sunlight. “How far away?” He says aloud.

“I am guessing over two hundred miles” answers Storm Wielder gazing at her magical instrument. “Yes…200 to 220 miles due North.”

Megamania looks at his gem closer. He understands how to use it but not how it works. A clear gem. They are the center of the gem. It is 500 miles radius to the edges. An air bubble in the glass marks the location of their target. The closer the bubble to the center the closer they are to the target it is designed to locate. He becomes frustrated and squeezes it before placing it back under his protective vest. He and the others don’t notice the faint glow that comes from his hand and the locator.

The cat walks quietly over a bank of sand and twitches it’s tail several times. It then turns around and sits down. It’s tail thumping impatiently. “That damn cat…” says Megamania louder than meant.

The Captain climbs up the bank without any effort. “It’s a road. Hard packed blacktop.” Megamania catches on to his term. Is the Captain from his timeline or reality…?

“Should we be walking along the road? It may be guarded.” Asks Storm Wielder. “I would believe it better to walk along with it.”

“She is correct Captain. Though our travel would be hindered and slower, we would do better by traveling along side the road.” Offers Vander looking up the road. “What is that structure?”

The unlikely team walk up to a large rusted sheet of metal. It has dozens of round holes in it from vandalism. One side is painted green with white lettering. Both The Captain and Megamania read it out loud in stereo. “Las Vegas 210 miles”. Megamania smiles. “We’re at Sin City.”

“What is Sin City? It sounds…awful,” says Christina with a look of curiosity.

“A small town in the middle of no where” answers the Captain.

“A gambler’s haven. Sex, Drugs, Entertainment and of course the Mafia.” Answers Megamania.

They move away from the road and follow it as best as they can. Vander’s and Christina’s armor flashes as the sun strikes it just right. Megamania wondering if it would have made a true difference to travel on the road or on the loose sand.

Each of them at one point or another while walking thinks about the artifact they seek. It is a headband with jewels. It is suggested to give him much greater focus and use of magics. They also think about the warnings given to them.

No one person should carry two items.
Megamania is too hold them only if it is the final piece or extreme circumstances
DO NOT place item on person. Keep within the null-field located in the bags.

Before Megamania could pursue what he was certain was a slight against his person; they were shuttled to the portal.

“How will we know our contact Captain?” Asked Christina.

“I was assured we would know when we meet the person.”

Vander had seen many wars and looked about. This entire area reeked of war. Occasionally he would see unmarked graves and destroyed metal carriages that were burned.

“What is that ahead of us?” asked Christina

Only she and the cat referred to as Momma seemed to see it. Then Megamania adjusted his thin glasses. “Something coming”

A small cloud of dust began to appear. Shortly the others could see it. Two figures within the dust. Running towards them at a high rate of speed.

“Hide.” Is all the Captain could say.

The two creatures ran side by side. They were large black panthers with blood stains of bright red on their face. Their eyes were a bright red and the creatures were obviously dangerous. They slowed down and looked about. A few moments go by then one of the two cats growl. Both look to the rocks where the five champions try to hide. The gleaming armor has given them away. It is then Storm Wielder spots a flying creature with similar appearance to the cats.

Christina thinks she knows what these beasts are. They are not natural creatures but can not place them. The bird suddenly morphs into a third cat. They move in.