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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Rules-based RPGs --> Modern --> (MMSF) (San Francisco)
Parent thread: Mutant and Masterminds 2nd Edition Game interest check
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    Messages in (MMSF) (San Francisco)
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(MMSF) (Samael) ( Archangel of San Francisco?)

Samael's gasping for the cold air that filled his lungs hurt almost as much as the effects from whatever he was recovering from. Some sort of cloth was covering his eyes as he began to move to figure out what had happened. Pulling aside the cloth that was covering his, his surrounding looked even stranger to him. A bare room with a small wooden door and silence to compliment the mood. 

Rising up from a cold slab of some sort, Samael could see that he was disrobed and a metal object was protruding from his left side. Scanning around the room he could only see a smaller metal table with several metal medical looking instruments on it and some weird looking long pipe with a tube on it. 

** Footsteps ** 

He could hear footsteps  in the distance and a closing of a door, then ..... spanish music? In the distance growing lound with each step that was getting closer. Samael’s wings were bound but not for long as his began to attempt to get up and his feet touched the cold stone flooring. As soon as he began to spread them, the death shroud removed in a instant as he began to stand. 

And.... that was about the same time when Sister Maria Crocifissa della Concezione walked into the room with her headphones (earbuds), took one look at a very relieving and naked Samael, dropping her her saws all on the floor and screaming for Father Hernandez in spanish. Then she covered her eye to his visage. 

Padre padre Hernandez!.

“Es un milagro! ¡El ángel samael ha resucitado como nuestro salvador! ¡Oh priase las saitns de arriba!”

With the saws all dropping to the floor, also the spear that was piercing him through his left side dropped from his body as he began to spread his wings. 

** Clang **

the scream and then saws all fell, then

** CLANG ** went the spear from his body.

Posted on 2020-02-15 at 00:48:49.
Edited on 2020-02-15 at 00:58:40 by Espatier

Eol Fefalas
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8430 Posts

Rebirth and Recollection

The cold of the air in his lungs and the stone beneath his feet seemed as sharp as the blade that had pierced his flesh… though he couldn’t quite recall exactly how that had happened. The clatter of steel on stone and the shrill screams of the woman, too, evoked hazy recollections of… something… but that something seemed far away and long ago…

Her name was Aggy Hartwell and she had scarcely graduated high school. Young, excitable, and caught up in the exuberance brought on by achieving that valediction and, so, moving into the beginnings of her adult life, Aggy and a couple of her friends had ventured out into the city seeking the ‘appropriate celebration.’ Unfortunately for them, that first foray into the spectacle of speak-easies and swing dances led them into parts of San Francisco that were far darker than the signs and streetlights would ever have led them to believe. Their evening had started at what seemed to be a tame enough dance club with a steady stream of interested boys vying for the girls’ attentions, some with more success than others… again, unfortunately. It was one of these sharp-dressed charmers that had, in the end, wooed the giggling girls away from the city’s safer venues and into the far more private clutches of an underground club run by the Onigumo family.

By the time Aggy realized that someone had slipped her a roofie, both of her friends had succumbed to their own similarly doped drinks and were being dragged into some dark backroom. Aggy herself managed to stagger out of the club and into the rain-soaked streets before the drugs took too much of a hold on her and, thanks to the biting rain and a burst of adrenaline, had even been able to outrun the two Japanese goons who had pursued her into the night for a short time. The drugs won out over her stamina and determination before long, though, and her spinning head guided her face first into the pock-marked pavement of some garbage choked alley. Her stockings and the skin on her knees alike burned away as she tumbled headlong into the trash of the dank backstreet, her hands, too, suffered scrapes and cuts as they flew out before her in a futile attempt to keep her head from ultimately bouncing off the pavement. She made a weak attempt to get back to her feet but, between the drug-tainted alcohol, the fatigue, and, now, likely, a concussion, Aggy found that she scarcely had the energy to scream when the Onigumo thugs finally caught up to her.

That scream, if she had even let it loose, at all, got snatched away by the wind that seemed, suddenly, to come from all around her… or, perhaps, muffled by the ruffling pop-pop-pop of what sounded like an enormous pair of wings just above her head… Aggy tried to scream again and, at the same time, lift her eyes to see just what it was she was screaming about, but her vision was oh so blurry and her head so very heavy that all she could remember for a long moment was a brilliant flash of light followed by another powerful, omnidirectional gust of wind… and, then, the sensation of… flying?

When she awoke, some short while later, Aggy found herself lying on the grass amidst a small copse of trees on the edge of Golden Gate Park… miles from where she last remembered being and farther, she was sure, than she would have been able to make it on foot in what certainly must have been the very short time that had passed. She blinked in confusion, reached up to touch the spot on her head where it had met the street and, only then, when her fingertips failed to find the expected bump or cut or even trickle of blood, did she realize that a curious winged creature crouched beside her. Aggy nearly screamed again but something about the reassuring, yet, somehow sad smile he offered when her eyes met his stifled the scream and, instead, evoked another blink.

His sky-blue eyes sparkled from behind the long, raven-hued tendrils of hair that fell across his face and, despite the fact that he was clad in what appeared to be some sort of ancient armor worked in silver and blue, and had an enormous pair of blue-black wings issuing from his back that, now, sheltered them from the rain that fell on The City by the Bay, she felt more comforted by the creature’s presence than afraid of its appearance. Aggy opened her mouth to speak, realized that she had no idea what to say, and, offering a sheepish grin, closed it again.

The creature said nothing, either, merely returned the smile, offered a faint nod and placed his hand gently over the wound on her knee.

Aggy managed a squeak as the creature’s hand began to glow and she felt a tingling warmth spread through her… and a stunned gasp when the creature’s hand moved away to reveal clean, undamaged skin where, just an instant ago, it was a ruined as her stockings still were. “Are… Are you an angel, Mister?”

The question seemed to confuse him and, for an instant, that soft, enigmatic smile melted into something of a frown as he seemed to consider the answer. His wingtips seemed to flutter, then, in an attempt to flick the rain away and, the gentle smile returning as he mended the scrapes on her other knee, answered; “I don’t know… I… I am only Samael…”

Aggy Hartwell had told Samael about the friends who had been with her, that night, and, after he had seen her safely home, he had spent the next two weeks in search of them, eventually locating them (and a half dozen other opium-addled young women) locked in a shipping container on a ship (owned by one of the Onigumo Family’s interests) bound for Japan. Samael suffered grievous injuries in rescuing and returning the girls but, also, garnered more than a little suspicion and consternation as to his appearance… the populace of San Francisco seemed more interested in pointing out what was “wrong with him” as opposed to what he might have done “right”… and, so, he had flown away in hopes of finding a place where he might hide and recover from his wounds (which he found to be no small task for a ‘circus freak’ ). It was during this time… and, after The San Francisco Herald published an article, based on an interview with a Miss Agatha Hartwell, titled Saved by an Angel… that Father Hernandez had somehow managed to find him… offer him some sort of refuge… and, then, Samael had succumbed to his injuries and died…

He shook his head against the memories and the screams of the woman in the doorway. As the thick rustling sound of his feathers settling into place abated, he regarded the squealing woman curiously and raised his hands in hopes of quieting her. “Please, miss,” he smiled softly, “It’s… I… You don't need to... Where am I?”

Posted on 2020-02-15 at 10:39:35.
Edited on 2020-02-15 at 11:02:40 by Eol Fefalas

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