...this morning and realized that CC and Samael aren't all that far apart where their last locations are concerned. I'm guessing that they're going to run into each other sooner rather than later?

...just a little more than half of what Beansy weighs! He hangs out right around 110 lbs... he's a beast of a dog!

My neighbors have a pair of pits (Domino and Willa) that like to run the fence with Frank... together, they weigh two pounds less that my chowder-head!  

Especially if my Frank decided not to be an overly bouncy meatball!

How much does Frankie G. weigh?

And just a year younger than my Frankie (he'll be 3 in May)! 

I'm happy for you, kibibi!

You and me both, brother!

I took the liberty of creating a Q&A thread for this game, Espatier.

Edited the intial post to credit you as the author and, thereby, allow you to edit/update as you see fit. Figured it might not be a bad idea to move any further conversation (beyond recruitment) to that thread. Plus it provides a place for you to add any other info (maps, pics, etc) that might be relevant to the game but you don't necessarily want to appear in the game thread, itself.

Such cute!

Post is away... and so is Sam.

*flapflapflap*

The more the Sister spoke, the more clouds were stripped away from Samael’s memories…

“You’re in the basement of the church,” the nun told him, her eyes downcast, “you remember, yes?”

…Sister Maria, the name whispered into clarity as, with a gasp, the woman’s eyes turned to the sound of approaching footsteps, and this place is… the Saints Peter and Paul Church… is that right?... “I think I’m beginning to, Sister, yes.”

“I can hear the father coming,” Sister Maria said, still hesitant to lay her eyes on him, “I’m sure that he will explain it all to you since you have been dead.”

Dead? Samael blinked in confusion, his wings wrapping around him, now, against the chill of the room. How is that possible? His ice-hued eyes fell upon the spear at his feet, then, and the miasma of his memory cleared all the more… his rescue of the girl from the Japanese gangsters… the search for her friends that had followed… and the battle with their captors that had resulted in their freedom and his own mortal injuries… How is it possible that I am still not dead? He stooped over and took up the spear, taking some comfort in its familiar weight and some secret delight when a brilliant light danced over the thing at his touch.

“I knew it,” a thickly accented male voice drew Samael’s gaze to the doorway, again, “Praise the Almighty!”

“Father Hernandez,” the angel nodded, his recognition of the priest coming more quickly than had his recollection of Sister Maria and the church.

“I had faith that you would return to us, here,” the Father beamed as he stepped into the room and, suddenly, seemed to realize that Samael stood there nude. “Oh! My goodness! Let’s get you some clothing that will fit you…” said the priest, somewhat sheepishly as he moved to retrieve a pile of armor and cloth from a table in the corner, “…Here, I think you might be missing these.”

“Thank you, Padre,” Samael smiled, accepting the accoutrements that he now easily recognized as his own. He set his spear aside, then, and proceeded to dress himself.

“So,” Father Hernandez continued as Samael strapped on his armor, “What was the other side like? Did the big man talk to you about us?”

“If I saw the other side, Father,” the angel replied almost apologetically, “I’m afraid I don’t remember it. The last things I can recall are… pain… peace… and you.”

“Never mind,” Father Hernandez said, then, dismissing his own eager questions with a wave of his hands, “If it is to be revealed to me, it will be of His will…”

Samael smiled faintly and offered a short nod in reply as the dark eyed man continued.

“So, a lot has happened since you left us,” the Father said, “and we must be very careful from now on, verdad?”

As the winged man continued donning his armor, the priest and the nun exchanged words that went largely unheeded by Samael but, in the end, Sister Maria had hurried off to tend to whatever it was Father Hernandez had asked of her and the Father, himself, had returned his attentions to Samael. “Well then, Samael, I’m sure you have some questions or…” the Latino priest prompted “…not for me, but I must impress on you that your activities in the past have attracted the attentions of some not so nice people, okay?”

“The Onigumo Family,” Samael answered softly, buckling the armored greaves over his shins, “I’m sorry to have brought trouble to you, Father…”

“You remember that girl… You know, the girl that you found like a stray, yes?”

“Aggie,” Samael nodded, “I remember.”

“Well,” the priest continued, “after she told her story to the newspaper, people came to the city to see if you were real…”

“But I was… dead,” the angel said quietly, “and so they found nothing.”

“I hid you for a reason, Samael,” the priest sighed, “To do good but to leave the glory to a higher calling, yes? You under me, no?”

“I don’t do what I do for glory, Father,” Samael murmured, taking up his spear, again, now that he was dressed, “I only wish to help.”

“I’m not questioning the Almighty’s work,” Hernandez explained, “but you’re making it harder to keep you hidden. I have to move your body twice, my friend. No Bueno.”

“I’ll try to be more careful,” the angel answered, his feathers rustling as his wings stretched and then folded against his back.

“Ah… look at you, my son,” the priest smiled, admiring the armored angel’s appearance, “Muy guapo.”

Samael offered a faint smile and bowed his head a bit; “Thank you, Father.”

Hernandez led Samael through the church, then, answering the winged man’s questions about the other girls he had rescued from the Onigumo’s clutches and whether or not Aggie was alright. The priest’s replies made him happy, of course; all the girls were alive and well, if still somewhat shaken by their ordeal. Aggie though, had taken some criticism and harassment as a result of her interview with the paper but, in spite of it all, she remained adamant that an angel had intervened on her behalf. By the time all of Samael’s questions had been addressed, the pair arrived at what the priest referred to as his Aerie in one of the church’s two towers. As Samael gazed out over the city and the bay, beyond, Hernandez continued on about San Francisco and how her people had begun to take note of Samael’s exploits; some of them even referring to him, now, as The Archangel of San Francisco.

Samael offered a faint chuckle and a shake of his head at this. “You believe me to be an angel, Padre,” he sighed softly, glancing back at the priest, “and, perhaps, so do the people of this city, but I believe I have told you before, I don’t know that that is what I am… or even what I want to be… I… I just want to help… to be accepted as any other resident of this city…” He shrugged, then, stepped up onto the stone bulwark between two of the tower’s columns, and began to spread his wings.

“Now, Samael,” Father Hernandez said, stepping closer and handing the winged man a folded map of the city, “promise me that you will be more careful…”

“I will do my best, Father,” Samael nodded, taking the map and tucking it under his breastplate.

“Examine that at your leisure and, perhaps, try to find safe places to hide while doing your good works for the Almighty… and remember, everyone is still afraid. So many people believe but the Devil’s workshop has a full effect on this city…”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Padre,” Samael nodded, again, “and I promise I’ll try to keep the devil from your doorstep.” Then, with a smile, Samael leapt from the tower, his blue-black wings spreading wide as they caught the wind and lifted him into the sky. “Thank you, again, for all you have done, my friend,” he called back, spiraling higher into the blue above San Francisco, “I’ll see you again, soon.”

((OOC: Okay… soooo, off on patrol, I suppose. Sam will fly in ever expanding circles outward from the church and over the city, doing his best not to draw attention but looking for any signs of anyone who might need his help.))

• 1990s is fine with me. I was still youngish then but not so young that I don't remember what it was like.


• Superheroes aren't "real." Got it!


• More about the game? I recommend adding a QA thread and, perhaps, moving any game discussion, there.


• Also, I think you're doing great! Happy to be involved, of course, and if there's anything I can do to assist, I'm never far away.

Tomorrow is "gotcha day," huh? Soo exicted for you and, of course, to see pics of Brad the Pit! 

As to delving into our characters early lives, I suppose I should do something about getting back to Cub'dau pretty soon. Been working away at an Aftermath scene in which Samuel is finishing up Sara's new blade, today, but I figure I can find my way back to the tale of the battleborn after I get that sorted.

You know we'll read anything you put out there.

By the by - one of my favorite things about this whole "let's look back at how Ch'dau and Kith met" exercise (aside from brining Aranwen into it, of course) is how involved and invested in the peripheral characters we've gotten. I mean, holy crap! Saeriel, Tara and all the Laughing Maidens, even Mosic and Morgana... just   

I've given it a read through, already, and will probably go back and re-read at some point later. Then I'll get to working up a response.

P.S. I appreciate the maps and visuals. Definitely helps to give me an idea or three where surroundings and such are concerned.

I do love waking up to some reading!

...getting stabbed doesn't hurt nearly as bad when the blade comes out.

Damn right you would!!!

...I'd let either or both of you stab me should it save the lot of us in the end.  

...most of us mightn't have made it out had the spell(s) taken completely, I'm guessing.

Thank the gods that Morgana "overreached."

I don't think you need to feel guilty... Kith might've actually saved Ara (and Sae) with her intervention. Just from a dumb Kazari's POV, anyway.

Plus, Ch'dau actually got to meet Saeriel in a manner of speaking which I think is cool AF.

...that something as simple as a glancing blow from a dagger to the shoulder can affect the results of a spell like that, tbh.

Nice touch, Butterfly.

...especially once Ara stumbled over the steps in the turret room; which is a big part of the reason I had Ch'dau carry her out of the house when our little group was making their retreat.

...just read that! Neat to see the "duet" play out.

...Phenominal cosmic powers! Itty bitty living space.

It was largely your post, after all, and I really don't need to pad my post count, right?

Also - yeah! Burn baby burn! Who's got the marshmallows?

Sorry to hear that, Nomad!

Best wishes for a speedy and uncomplicated recovery.

She makes my pitty-pat go pitty-pat!