She Who Skitters in Shadows (Exalted/Worm)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by TPK, Aug 20, 2013.

  1. TPK

    TPK Hello, friend. Super Awesome Happy Fun Time

    Taylor Hebert, She Who Skitters in Shadows, is Earth Bet's first Abyssal Exalt. Yes, that's one of the nasty kinds. Good thing she's such a nice person, eh?


    Thursday is the first day back from winter vacation, and I was finally able to walk into the halls of the school without being afraid of my tormenters. They'd slowed, then stopped as the weather grew colder, and I'd even made friends with one of them. It was nice. Wonderful, really.

    I'd brought my books home over break, so I didn't have to linger in the halls to use my locker. No sense in tempting fate. The day went by without incident, Sophia and her group completely ignored me, and Emma and I ate lunch together. So when I opened my locker, only to receive a heavy push in the back that sent me sprawling forward into a heap of month old pads and tampons, I wasn't able to react until the door was already closed behind me. Laughter and conspiratorial whispers strain in through the narrow slits at the top of the metal door, but they ignore my fists slamming on the locker, my cries for help.

    Emma, my now firmly former best friend, leaves after a minute. "I have better things to do than check for trash." She taunts, and the other two girls leave with her.

    No one comes except the janitor, mopping floors and picking up trash, and he doesn't hear either. Dad always said earbuds would turn you deaf.

    The hallway goes dark through the tiny slits, and I desperately press my face against the only source of untainted air in the claustrophobic locker, but eventually I fall asleep, unable to remain awake any longer. When I wake, the hall is lit, but not with the bright fluorescents, with dim sunlight coming in the window at the end of the hall. Daylight.

    No one comes for me.

    No one notices me.

    No one cares, except my father.

    Danny isn't here.

    Eventually, sometime before night comes again, I fall asleep.

    On the third day, the hall is bright and bodies fill it, but I'm too weak to move, my throat's too parched to make a sound. I breathe in, one last time-

    Darkness. A shape more massive than belief moves with a yet larger shape across a penlight speckled background, but the lights are stars and the shapes are like scaled worms, shedding shards as they move through the cosmos until they come to rest over and around a green/blue world. Thousands on thousands of bright shards of light fall to Earth, until the great worm is a fraction of its former self, and it too falls.

    It falls because its partner is dead. Inconceivable, the death is. Such a many-faceted thing was not meant to die. But it did. It's hierarchy of shards lies fragmented and decaying, lingering as a festering wound even as its least parts continue.

    In the dark, far away and right behind me, thirteen shadows feel a world that lives as it connects to the world that died, reach out along the dimensional boundaries, and find a single pinhole in the barrier between, through which a golden light shines.

    And they hate it.-

    Everything stops, voices, footsteps, the breathe in my lungs. Then a voice speaks in the darkness below, crawling up my legs and vibrating in my bones, speaking without a proper sound.

    "Do you wish to live?"

    I know I shouldn't, that I really should just let go and move on, escaping from the bullying in the simplest way, but I nod to her delusion's question, and my lips move.

    "Then from this day forth, then, Taylor Hebert is no more."

    As the words echo in my ears my head begins to ache as if I've been pushed down the stairs again, and failed to catch myself.

    "She who Skitters in Shadows, know you serve the Mask of Winters before all others, know you have paid a price for this honor, but it is one more than fair. You who long for the bliss of nothingness, you who seek adulation and power, you who dream of victory. Know death, know glory, know that we. Shall. Prevail."

    A circle burns within a circle that sears my eyes, and a voiceless scream tears out of my throat. Then all is still, and my eyelids drift closed. Darkness takes me.


    It's a beautiful night. The moon is overhead, the sea breeze brings the scent of salt and brine to my nose from the mouth of the bay, and my bare feet can't feel the cold snow that I crunch as I walk home.

    I come to an intersection, and squint to make out the signs. The street light overhead is flickering, dim. Dying.

    "She Who Skitters in Shadows." The voice, the Mask of Winters, I correct myself, speaks behind me.

    "I don't know who you're talking to, or who you are, or what you're doing" I begin to jog. Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away?

    When he speaks again, the words are unnatural, warped grotesquely as they slither into my ears, and I collapse to my knees and bury my head in my hands. "Taylor Hebert. You will listen." My head is dragged up as if pulled by a string. The shadows on the brick wall to my right change, taking the outline of a man eight feet tall, covered in black armor wrought with a pair of concentric circles I recognize from earlier, a single massive eye. Each word falls like a hammer on my back, driving me further down even as the shadow's grip on my hair holds my head to meet its eye. "She Who Skitters in Shadows, I give you your order. You are my first agent on this world, and you seek glory, do you not? Take your glory from the death of nations. Seek fame in the rush of battle. Cast down the mighty beneath your feet, and ruin the world that held you down, forced you to suffer for its amusement!"

    Silence rings in my ears, and I swallow nervously. I close my eyes.

    "No." I whisper, words dragged from my lips despite the raw terror of the mask before me. I continue to speak, face flush as I admit what I've dreamed about for so long, each word forced out with an effort of will that leaves my arms shaking, my legs limp beneath me, but I speak to the monster, and I say, "I want to be a hero." Horrible visions flash into my mind, Brockton Bay razed by a shockwave, drowned beneath the waves, and torn apart by internal power struggles. "I won't do it. I'm not that kind of person. I want to help, not hurt."

    When he speaks again, the harsh voice doesn't say what I expect at all, a hint of a laugh staining his menace. "Then seek glory in the death of your enemies."

    And then the pressure is gone, the shadow is just a shadow, and I'm alone again, kneeling in the snow. My forehead is bleeding, dripping blood in a perfect empty circle on the ground where I was kneeling.

    This won't work, face bloody, shocked, barefoot, covered in blood and worse things from the locker. I can't even remember getting out of it, and now I'm on the other side of town, the north end near the boat graveyard. How did I get here?

    "I can't go home like this." I realize. I can't risk hurting my dad because, apparently, I'm mad. I turn east and begin the walk to the water's edge, ignoring how the buildings' shadows stretch out to cover me, and my feet don't feel the freezing snow.

    "What a wonderful night to go crazy."

    I must move through the streets of the Docks in a daze, mind wandering in circles as my feet take me to familiar places, because I don't remember the names of the streets I move through. The market is deserted this time of night, wooden stalls and larger roofed areas line the street by the bay, abandoned. The ferry sits just visible down the slope to the water, from where I stand. Bright paint barely visible through the thick coat of white snow that blankets, well, everything.

    The old sight calms me down, and I crack a smile for the first time in. . . It is days, isn't it?

    The ferry has been there for as long as I can remember, a big friendly giant of a ship that can't get the parts it needs to do what it wants to. I wonder what it would look like detached from the dock, carrying crowds of people from north to south across the bay, but that'll never happen. Dan's always told me that the city council would never approve the budget needed, wouldn't run the risk of contaminating their perfect tourist trap boardwalk, their picture perfect city, their-

    Deep breath, Taylor, deep breaths. No need to get worked up about the way things are, I'll be a cape soon, not a politician. I relax, and let the wooden railing my hands were gripping fall to the ground in rotten chunks. "Ugh." I grunt, and step away from the stall. Sandy's Sea Shak, the sign calls it.

    "Maybe they should replace the railing, but I think the 'c' is a more severe problem. What do you think?" Someone's behind me!

    I whirl around to face him, then stop. It's a cape, one of the Wards stationed locally. White costume, full body with a visor over his face. "Clockblocker?" I hazard, alarm forgotten and replaced with shock.

    I wish I said something witty next, or something about not having a mask, or wanting to join the Wards because I was a parahuman, but I didn't. Instead, my first impression on the serious cape community of Brockton Bay, and the wider world, is when I tell the second-in-command of a cape team, "I think I'm crazy."

    "People are crazy, it's a common sentiment in your condition." He snaps back wryly, then his body language changes. He's more focused. "You're not wearing shoes, hold on a moment." Clockblocker reaches down and fiddles with a pouch on the side of his utility belt. "I really need to get this pouch replaced." He grumbles, then shrugs, giving opening the white container up as a lost cause. "I don't suppose you have a phone?"

    I shake my head. "This is surreal."

    "You're telling me, Shadow Girl?" Clockblocker walks next to me, opens a different pouch, and pushes something against the doorknob of Sandy's Sea Shak. The lock clicks, and he opens the door.

    "Shadow Girl?" I follow him inside.

    As he searches along the walls for a light switch, the masked teen, he must be my age, replies. "Well yeah, official members of the cape-wearing community get to make up names for the members who didn't announce theirs on national media. It's one of the perks, like discount beachwear."

    I flip the switch to my left, illuminating rows on rows of gaudy plastic souvenirs. Clockblocker tosses me a pair of red galoshes, then presses a button on the receipt till, printing off about a foot of paper. "I owe you one pair of garish boots. -Clockblocker."

    "How can you tell, that I'm a parahuman?" I blurt out, "I don't remember much."

    Clockblocker sets the note on the keypad of the cash register, then shrugs at me. "Well, I was minding my own business in the monitor room when I noticed a blur walking south down the boardwalk, so I called Aegis up and came over to see what I could see. And when I get here, you’re just all faded into the shadows! Sorry about not noticing you were barefoot right off, but you were really blurry in dark like that." He seems nervous all of a sudden. "Just, ah, don't mention that I didn't spot that right off? It'd be a favor from a future teammate."

    "Teammate?" And just when I'm about to get a handle on the situation, I'm reduced to monosyllables again. Wonderful.

    Clockblocker looks me carefully up and down, or at least his head moves up and down. "Well yeah. You haven't tried to attack me yet, and that means you're at least open to the idea of not turning into some kind of degenerate street bum supervillain lurking around the streets at night. What do you say I get this pouch unjammed, call for pickup, and you can stay in the guest quarters and sleep it over?" He pauses, "After a shower."

    Floored by my sudden change of fortunes, I can only nod in the bright lights overhead, my face stretching into a wide grin. "Yes, I mean of course!" I beam, but the Ward isn't looking at me any more, instead looking behind my back, and I suddenly feel a prick of pain as a knife touches my lower back, and a hand grabs my hair and pulls until my back is arched, and I'm trying desperately not to impale myself on the blade.

    "As a supposed degenerate member of society myself, I can honestly say that I'd rather be a thief, than a lesionous ballsack like yourself." Brown teeth click together inches from my face, and I can see the mask that covered his face from the nose up.
  2. Robo Jesus

    Robo Jesus Your Mechanical Messiah

    Hehehehehehehe. Oh, awesome.:D
    revan79 likes this.
  3. TPK

    TPK Hello, friend. Super Awesome Happy Fun Time

    Twei, Fancy Face, ChicagoTed and 15 others like this.
  4. TPK

    TPK Hello, friend. Super Awesome Happy Fun Time

    She Who Skitters in Shadows(Taylor Herbert)
    Renegade Abyssal

    Health Levels:
    -0 []
    -1 [] [] [] []
    -2 [] [] [] [] [] []
    -4 []
    incapacitated [] [] [] [] [] []

    Willpower: 9/9
    Resonance: 1

    Physical: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 5
    Social: Charisma 2, Manipulation 1, Appearance 4
    Mental: Perception 4, Intelligence 2, Wits 5

    Virtues: Compassion 1, Conviction 4, Temperance 3, Valor 2
    Flawed Virtue: Compassion
    Essence: 4
    Personal Pool: ??/21
    Peripheral Pool: ??/47

    Abilities: *Archery 2, Martial Arts 1, *Integrity 2 (+1 verbal), *Presence 2 (+3 fear), Resistance 5, *Investigation
    3 (powers ID), *Lore 2, *Athletics 3 (+3 running), *Awareness 5, *Dodge 5, *Stealth 3

    Backgrounds: Whispers 2, Backing 3 (Protectorate and Affiliates), Mentor 2 (Armsmaster)


    - Essence-Draining Touch
    - Cadaverous Torpor Technique
    - Ox-Body Technique (2)
    - Spider Pounce Technique
    - Corpse-Might Surge
    - Second Dodge Excellency
    - Infinite Dodge Mastery
    - Flickering Wisp Technique
    - Flitting Shadow Form
    - Thousandfold Shadow Dance
    - First Investigation Excellency
    - Shadow Cloak Technique
  5. Yzarc

    Yzarc The Spark of madness

    Gr8 man. Also what rules are you using? The old one or the modern one?
  6. Cytokinesis

    Cytokinesis I'm a mouse!

    Clockblocker was really well done here. Just the right mix of sarcastic and charismatic.

    Poor Taylor, things just can't go right for her can they? I see this ending in blood and tears and an even more traumatized Taylor.
  7. Anondylar

    Anondylar Lazy Tortoise

    Reading through this, I noticed some errors. You need to stop writing in second person.
  8. I just realized that I really want to see Taylor She Who Skitters abusing her oath-binding anima power on all the untrustworthy douchebags in the Wormverse.
    Corvus 501 and pheonix89 like this.
  9. Yzarc

    Yzarc The Spark of madness

    Day Caste. Different Anima power.
  10. Yog


    So, a chance of Abyssal Taylor, with all the terror that implies as a hero? Fun! Wiki says that she has to feed on blood or raw flesh. That'll be fun.

    And, from what I understand, she looks to become a rogue abyssal. Or at least would want to become one.
  11. I could have sworn I saw "a circle within a circle" in there, but apparently her caste mark drips blood in an empty circle so I guess you're right.

    What a pity.
    asdfasdf likes this.
  12. Anondylar

    Anondylar Lazy Tortoise

    Huh? I don't remember that; the only reference to consuming flesh and blood I can find in Abyssals 2E is for consuming motes from other people, but even then it can just be a small pinprick.
  13. Did you announce this in the Worm crossover thread? Because if you did, I need to check my alert list.

    Interesting, even for me and I don't know anything about Exalted. Who's the "degenerate member of society" at the end?
  14. Yog


    I am working from the wiki only:
    Also, she may go for redemption (again, working from the wiki). A Solar without Great Curse is right about what is needed to deal with the latest development in canon universe.
  15. Cytokinesis

    Cytokinesis I'm a mouse!

    That statement refers to getting back essence. An Abyssal doesn't naturally regain essence in Creation, and they must steal it from others if they want to keep using their superpowers.

    Of course, Gibbous may have changed it a bit to make Taylor's existence as a hero viable. Or she'll just get a lot of vampire-wannabee groupies following her around :p
  16. TPK

    TPK Hello, friend. Super Awesome Happy Fun Time

    Thanks. I reread for second person errors, but I keep missing them. Same for you too, Cytokinesis; thanks for the PM.

    I did, yeah. And the alert system does seem rather hit-or-miss, so I usually just use Watched Threads. And you don't recognize Skidmark?
    Cytokinesis likes this.
  17. Cytokinesis

    Cytokinesis I'm a mouse!

    I did (mostly due to the brown teeth), though I'm not really sure what he's doing here. The Merchants weren't really that powerful at the start of the story, and they couldn't afford to make waves.

    On the other hand he is a junkie. He probably has reasons that sound good to him.

    Edit: Oh, they just stumbled onto one of his drug stores/production labs didn't they?
  18. Market seems a bit upscale for Merchants to have a production lab, though that may be a point.
  19. Screwball

    Screwball Smug SD Cabalist

    Those poor bastards. I think I'd rather live in canon. :eek::p
  20. SolipsistSerpen

    SolipsistSerpen Solipsist Serpent

    Ah. That's because Abyssals only regain essence naturally in the Underworld, Shadowlands, and the like, not being adapted to Creation properly. They can also regain it by eating flesh or drinking blood but there are other work-arounds. I believe stunts still work and you can carry a hearthstone (though where she'd get one I don't know). She's also going to feel uncomfortable unless she surrounds herself with the paraphernalia of death (this is why most Abyssals look goth), this does carry some die penalties if ignored.

    The worst thing is probably going to be building up Resonance every time she responds to her name, though.
  21. Cytokinesis

    Cytokinesis I'm a mouse!

    Gibbous is using Modern Resonance, so responding to her name only builds up Resonance if she does something else to build up Resonance in the same scene. It tacks on an extra point of Resonance to any gain, but doesn't give any on its own.
  22. Yog


    If she can feel negative effects of responding to her name, she could probably arrange for her to be addressed only by her hero title, if she joins a protectorate, with her father using monikers only.
  23. TPK

    TPK Hello, friend. Super Awesome Happy Fun Time

    I recognize his face from the news broadcasts that warn people to stay away from the boat graveyard near dark, but I can’t put a name to the man. His canine tooth has a crack, I note. “Well here I was, wandering down the boardwalk with my good friends here, when I noticed sweet piece wandering, alone and so clearly wishing for the services I can provide.”

    “Skidmark.” Clockblocker says flatly, “I thought you were smarter than this.” He steps forward. “Put her down. You need an arm free to use your power, and you can’t keep hold of her and keep me off you at the same time. Why make this harder than it has to be?”

    Skidmark growls. “Well why don’t you shove your hands up your loose ass? I’ve got backup.”

    He jerks his head to the side in a gesture, and I hear the wooden floor creak as if overburdened. I hope this doesn’t end with the floor breaking, I think as a tall man squeezes up behind me. He’s big, not just tall but wide, and his arms and legs are made of a hodgepodge assortment of gears and pistons.

    “The name’s Trainwreck.” He grinds out. “And I’m why he ain’t droppin the knife.”

    Clockblocker switches his gaze between Skidmark and Trainwreck, and reorients himself. “Why are you even on the boardwalk, Skidmark? This is pretty heavy territory for Empire 88.” He tries a new tack.

    “Well, you see it’s kind of none of your sodding business!” Skidmark snaps out, spittle flying. “I can take my new muscle wherever I want!” With a sudden, manic heave, the arm holding my hair whips right, and he slings me into Trainwreck’s waiting arms as he points his hands at the floor and tables!

    Two-toned lines are painted into existence where he point, and I see the miscellaneous junk in Sandy’s Sea Shak near them fly in waves towards Clockblocker. “Take the girl to the car, Trainwreck, and give her a hit!”

    Clumsy metal fists close around my arms, catching me and holding me still, and a hand-sized hatch on the right arm slides open with a hiss, revealing the telltale gleaming shape of a needle. “Hold still.” Trainwreck says, but I’m not listening to him, I’m back at school.

    Hands hold me down as someone rustles through my backpack, searching for anything that I have that I don’t ‘need’. A leg sweeps my own as I take the first step down a flight of stairs, and I spill downward. The dragonblooded before me ignites his anima banner, and months of notes on motic studies are incinerated in an instant’s cruelty.

    I snap back into my body filled with an icy fire.

    “No.” The needle breaks on my skin, and my forehead stings with pain. “I am not a victim!” I strain against Trainwreck’s grip, struggling to free myself, but I can’t budge his mechanical limbs. The chill of power again floods through me, my arms, and I almost manage to pry his fingers off of one arm before they clamp down again, metal circling entirely around my arms.

    I need to get away, I need to get away, I need to-

    Get away.

    I trail black smoke as I take a step backwards, slipping from Trainwreck’s grasp like I was never there, and reform three feet away, just behind Skidmark’s back. Dark fire erupts from my body as the light overhead flickers and dies, leaving the shop illuminated in the uncanny uncanny greys and blacks cast by my new aura.

    What kind of powers are these? I wonder for a moment, stunned by the sheer variety of them. Some kind of shadow empowerment?

    While I was held by Trainwreck, the flow of the fight had continued to move in Skidmark’s favor. A loose wall of timestopped objects hangs as a makeshift shield, three unfolded umbrellas shielding the young hero from most of the flying debris.

    I can help, I realize. I have powers, I can help. I can be a hero.

    It’s an astonishing feeling, the knowledge that my life is about to change, to move beyond the rut I’ve been stuck in for so long.

    It feels like cold fire flooding my arms as I shove a table full of beany babies into Skidmark’s back, and pin him to Clockblocker’s umbrella shield.

    A white-gloved hand reaches out from the barrier, and taps the villain on the nose. “Frozen one.” Clockblocker steps sideways and throws a spool of colored plastic cord in an underhanded toss over my shoulder. It doesn’t fall, instead hanging in midair. “And frozen two. Not bad, if I do say so myself.” I can hear him smiling behind his tinted visor. “And I even managed to remember to call for help once things got messy, so I’m going to count this as a solid win.”

    I can’t help it, I’m smiling so hard my mouth hurts. “Is it always like this?” I ask.

    He shrugs. “I’m kind of not a fan of fair fights, so yeah, if I have any say in things fights get ended real quick like this one.” He tosses me a pair of handcuffs. “See if you can find anything on Trainwreck that that’ll attach to, will you?”

    “Right. Sure.” I say, still beaming, and follow the floating line of plastic to where the spool ends, caught in Trainwreck’s hand.

    “And put on those boots! Seriously, I’m not kidding about that. It’s cold out, if you’ve somehow missed that.”
  24. RazorSmile

    RazorSmile ROU Once A Knife Missile

    Sweeeeeet. Unless this is a full-on fusion, I'm assuming/hoping there won't be any more Exalted beings showing up. Not that it can't be done well, but Exalted has a way of overshadowing things if not kept under control.
    asdfasdf, Twei, Ozymandias2x and 2 others like this.
  25. Motic studies? Oh my. First age memories. Those will be interesting if she starts writing those down, and other people try them out, and they start working.