Category Archives: Origin

Casey Blackfox

His face was fierce because of the war paint yet he was silent like his namesake on a hunt. He held a hand up and the men behind him paused. They listened for the signal.
The sound of a bat finding its way in the dark filled the air—their signal. With a loud cry, the men ran out of the woods, barreling to the makeshift cabins and tents scattered in the meadow.
A man screamed as his head was beaten in. The people in the cabins shot their firesticks at the rushing men. The man next to Winter Red Fox went down silently, injured but not dead. His brother led the other group from the sunset side of the encampment.
Winter Red Fox burst through a door and bludgeoned whoever came at him. When no one moved, he ran out of the one-room cabin to the next one. Someone had set a tent on fire, and its orange and red flames reached up in the air. One of the warriors, Foot-maker, ran from building to building with a torch, feeding the flames that filled the sky.
Women were gathered at the edge of the woods, two holding babies. As part of the spoils of war, Winter Red Fox could choose any of these women for his slaves. He had the means to keep a slave, but his wife wouldn’t need one. However, his wife would be happy with one of the children.
Winter Red Fox approached one of the women and held his arms out. The woman screamed and cuddled her baby closer. Two warriors tore the baby from the mother and brought the child to Winter Red Fox.
He undid the bundle. It had no hair. He wondered whether their babies were born male or female. He checked to be sure. If these white people were like them, then this one was a male.
In the firelight, the baby stared up at Winter Red Fox, reaching up to him. Yes, this one would be perfect for his family, even though it was hairless and lily-white.
“Claiming the child?” asked Summer Bear.
“As long as the men are dead.”
“We have their firesticks.”
“They work with magic,” said Winter Red Fox. “Leave them.”
Summer Bear yelled to leave the firesticks, as Winter Red Fox turned from the women. Of course, the mother cried, but that was what happened with war.

Angelius (part 2)

A fallen angel, he was thrown out of heaven for loving another angel above God. What he doesn’t know is that God did him a favor.
He’s a water/ice blaster. Water is a new ability that wasn’t on “live”. When playing him, I concentrate on the slows that both water and ice provide. However, I don’t play him that often because I have an ice/ice blaster that I put aside to play with another group that has since fallen to the wayside.

he stood looking at all the pastries and breads loaded in the glass cases. She returned holding a bag and handed it to him.
“There’s some cookies and bread.”
“Bless you,” he said, taking the bag.
“That means a lot coming from you.”
He took out a cookie and bit into it. The sweetness of the chocolate and the cookie made him think of the nectar of Heaven.
“This is wonderful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” The baker smiled. “So, what brings you to Earth?”
“I have offended God.”
“So you’re a fallen angel.”
“Yes. My love for another angel superseded my love for God. He was angry.”
She put a hand on her hip. “Well, that’s not right. He sounds jealous.”
“He demands all our love. It’s a price we pay.”
“High price if you ask me. You should be allowed to love whoever you want.”
He gave her a weak smile, holding up the bag. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Put in a good word for me, huh?”
He nodded and pushed open the door, holding it open for another man to come in. He left the bakery and walked across the street to the park, and meant to sit on a park bench. But as he approached, he saw two men with bats threatening another older man. He had thrown his briefcase to the ground in an attempt to appease the bat-wielding men, but they didn’t look like they cared.
They wanted to beat this guy. He wouldn’t stand for that.
In a flash, he ran toward the fray. Calling upon his powers that were gifted to him by God, he summoned a block of ice to hold the one that swung the bat at the older man. He was encased in a block of ice immediately.
The other man with the bat yelled incoherently and rushed at the angel. He summoned water into a ball in his hands, and threw it at the man. He stopped, shocked, soaking wet, and then froze to the ground.
The one in the block of ice passed out from the cold. The one frozen to the ground took out a gun, aiming it at the older man. The angel from heaven blew the gun out of his hand with another blast of water. He slammed the bat-man over and into a nearby bush, knocking him out.
The victim was shaking, slightly wet from the ricochet of the water. He bent to pick up his briefcase. The angel got there first.
“Thank you so much,” he said. “You’re a hero.”
That was the second time he had been called that today. Maybe there was something in it for him. But where did he go to become a hero?


He walked around Atlas Plaza, noticing people stood gathered talking around other single people. He waited in one of the lines gathered around one of the men.
“Hi,” said the man in the fancy three-piece suit. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to be a hero.”
“You have to go into city hall for that.” The man thumbed behind him to the domed building. “Stop at the desk and they’ll let you know who to see.”
He climbed the stairs and went into the busy building. People of all shapes and sizes, and colors, thronged in the area. He walked up to the first desk that was open.
“Hello. I want to be a hero.”
“This is for Supergroup permits,” said the woman behind the desk. “That line over there.”
The line snaked among velvet ropes, with people and creatures of all types waiting patiently for the single person at the desk. Some held papers, some did not. Some were human, most were not.



Obilian (end); Angelus

“Help,” he heard a woman choke out.

Obilian searched with his hand to find the light switch. He flicked it on.

A woman, with only a ratty blanket thrown over most of her body, lay on the bed, handcuffed to the headboard. Her face was tear-streaked, her left breast exposed. Obilian shut the door and crossed the room to the bed.

“Can you help me?”

He tested the handcuffs, firmly attached. He studied the lock. If he could have, he would have used magic to spring the locks, but he couldn’t because it wasn’t natural. A lock was meant to stay locked.

“Let me try.” He pulled on the handcuffs. He wasn’t strong enough to pull them away from the wooden headboard. The cuffs went down to the mattress, not leaving her with much room to move.

He stood up straight. “I’ll be back,” he said.

“Don’t leave me here!”

He opened the door, leaving the light on. Peaches had what he needed. He dashed to the main entrance, where he left Peaches. After rummaging in his saddlebags, he came up with a lockpick set. He started to run back, when another black man came out of the entrance.

“Done already?”

“No, forgot something.”

“What, condoms?” The man laughed. “You got five minutes on the clock.”

Obilian nodded and ran back to the room. He had the lockpick set out the moment he shut the door. He undid one lock, when there was a knock on the door.

“Time’s up!”

“Gimme a minute.” He fiddled with the second lock, and it sprung open. Obilian put his finger to his lips.

“I said, time’s up.” The door opened.

Obilian shoved the door into the man’s face. Leah gathered the blanket around herself as Obilian punched out toward the man’s body. But he wasn’t there.

The black man had moved to the left, out of the way of the door, and out of eyesight. Obilian took a step out, and immediately got slammed in the head by a bat.

Obilian was tougher than most people, but he still saw stars. Leah screamed, which made it even worse.

He barely recovered when he got hit in the ribs. Obilian blindly reached out, grabbing a hold of the bat and yanking it out of the man’s hands. He flipped the bat around and swung, crashing against the man’s shoulder, probably shattering it. The man howled in pain, and Obilian wound up for another strike.

The man held up his hand that hadn’t been hit.

“No, man! Shit!”

“Get in the room.”

The man struggled to dive into the room, while Leah came out, barefoot and holding desperately onto the blanket. Obilian grabbed her, yanking her to his side, slamming shut the door. He locked the door from the outside, assuming that was the only way it could lock.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling her arm. He would buy her some clothes as soon as he got away with her.

Sometimes, it didn’t matter whether he had magic or was fae. As he helped Leah onto the bike, he realized that now was one of those times.




A fallen angel, he was thrown out of heaven for loving another angel above God. What he doesn’t know is that God did him a favor.


He wasn’t familiar with the deep feeling in his gut, a rumbling and gnawing sensation. He walked past the bakery, and the feeling got worse.

The white-haired man gazed into the window of the bakery. Confections of sugar and flour sat beyond the window. He took a deep whiff, the baking bread aroma almost overpowering his senses. His gut gave another grumble.

Hungry. He was hungry.

He opened the door to the bakery. Fresh baked bread, something sweet beneath it, made his mouth water. The woman in an apron behind the counter smiled at him as she wiped her hands on the hem of her apron.

“Can I help you?”

“What smells so good?” he asked. His voice sounded gravelly, unused. He was used to singing praises, not speaking without a melody.

The woman grinned even more. “Chocolate chip cookies. A dollar a piece.”

“What’s a dollar?”

The woman’s grin faded. She glanced at his hair, and then nodded to him. “You’re one of those Kheldians, aren’t you?”

“A what?”

“One of those space aliens that change forms. They’re mostly heroes.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not a space alien.”

“Then you should know what a dollar is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve only just arrived here.”

“From where?”

“Heaven,” he said, looking down, embarrassed.

“Heaven, huh?” The woman shrugged. “This is Paragon after all, I suppose anything’s possible.” She held up a finger. “Wait right here.”

As she went in the back room,