Damn I Am Pretty Art Laboratories

Prior to Portland In Black Tyr sighed as he left the Amor y la Muerte stripper club feeling less than satisfied.  A tiny little joint that also tried to be a mexican restaurant, it wasn't out of place in Portland's usual cadre of weird places to eat.  Tyr sighed, rubbing the stump of his arm with his remaining hand. He still couldn't shake the uneasily feeling he had in his stomach.  He'd lived for a long time.  He'd seen more than he ever needed to.  Feelings like the one he was having he'd felt before, premonitions of other things to come. He heard a growl.  Tyr looked up to see a large wolf, licking her snout in his direction. "Rose?"  Tyr asked.  He put a hand on her head.  The wolf shook him off, pointing her snout in another direction.  Tyr followed it.  "Oh.  You've come back."   "More or less."  The young man told him.  Younger looking than Tyr by a lot, the man slumped down on the curb.  ...

Time for another review.  Reading Materials are my attempt at drawing attention to the things I've read and what I think about them. This time its about a little gem called  Wild Cards , and the kind of awesome superheroics that comes with realism and 80s grit. I could've done one of these for Game of Thrones , as I finished off Dance of Dragons not that long ago- but instead, I'm focusing in on an earlier set of works associated with George R.R. Martin, Wild Cards .   Wild Cards started off as a anthology series where Martin and many other writers wrote stories that illuminated a shared universe, the Wild Cards universe.  Martin had been Game Master-ing a supers game; most of the other writers had participated in it.  So they turned it into a series of anthologies and novels. Sure, characters and concepts changed, so the stories in the anthologies and novels cannot be the same as the sessions that Martin and company had held.  But some of them h...

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  < Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories Breaks hissed.  A blue sedan pulled up, its lights illuminating the tangle of limbs and clothes between Noir's teenage dream self and Black Anna.  A door slammed closed.  A tall bespeckled figure emerged from the sedan. The memory-dream crested, hitting its crescendo.  It was also the main reason Noir considered it to be a bad memory. Dream-Noir's eyes went wide.  Noir felt himself wanting to sigh; because he knew it was too late.  Now things were going to fall apart. Noir remembered this moment as it was supposed to happen.  He and Elle were tangled in each other's bodies, enjoying the warm may evening.  Enjoying each others' bodies, clumsily t...

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  < Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories At first, they wouldn't Noir go to sleep. Whenever he'd drift off, someone would instead rattle his cage.  Shivering, at some point he started to beg for sleep.  He cried.  He vomited.  He shivered and panted like the dog they were treating him like. He lost track of his actions, feeling more like a passenger than in control anymore.  Nothing he did could stop the circus of grotesqueries. When Noir begged for sleep, however, Black Anna stopped everything. "Of course."  Black Anna waved her minions away.  In a very kind, very soft voice, she consoled him.  "Yes, you do need that, don't you?" Undead hissed and backed away.  Black Anna w...

This is part of some aside, other pieces of the story, Portland In Black.  Click here to read that. Click here for the previous Aside. JESHA Getting to the top of the hill had taken the breath from Jesha.  Portland's rain had let up on her today, instead, a dark cloud just loomed in the sky above.  She still was soaked. "Stupid dreadlocks.  No, Jesha, you sure needed to have dreadlocks in three colors.  Just great to have something to keep the heat in."  Jesha almost wished she could cut them off. She didn't do that, though.  She still sort of liked them. "That's where the scents end."  Jesha told herself.  She grimaced at the sight of it.  Off the beaten path of Portland, Black Anna had taken Noir into a building deep in one of Portland's bushy, forest patches.  Forest Park cut into Portland like the swipe of a knife.  It looked like a antique from another era to Jesha's eyes and nose.  It looked like it been aba...

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him. < Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories The necromancer didn't notice when din grew silent.  Just that everything had stopped, interrupted by a pair of footsteps.  Noir opened his eyes, grease, blood and tears dripping from him.  The undead took angry steps back. An old man stood in the doors opposite Black Anna's dais.  He leaned heavily on a cane.  One-armed, the man looked like he'd seen better days.  It reminded Noir of his father and the other ranchers he'd known growing up in Idaho.  Dusty, wrinkled and tough. "Black Anna, I invoke the Old Right."  Noir blinked in surprise at the sound of the old man's voice.  It sounded spry, youthful.  Confident. Still unable to see her, N...

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him. < Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories "No." Noir said it softly at first. "Hmm?" Black Anna asked him, half-listening as she watched her undead dance to the jazz music. "What was that?"   "No." Noir replied. He gritted his teeth in frustration. "No, Anna. I think I can help you. But I won't join you. I can fix you-"  Noir felt something cold splash onto him. Black ichor, like the kind Anna had used to animate the stoners before. It felt like dried ice, so cold it burned him. He didn't sense the spell, but it had to have been a spell.   "Too bad. I think I'll give you a chance to think it over again." Anna told him.   He blac...

City of Kaiju stories are set in Noah: the Kaiju Song, a scifi setting.  In an undersea city in the distant future, humanity has escaped the surface after a global disaster, but have mutated into new kinds of humans with psychic powers that call themselves Angels and Demons.   Click here for more info. This just a bit of quick writing.  Just a brief break from the Noir action.  I'll do more no worries.  :D I wondered if I had been smarter, if I might've avoided being manipulated into doing this for her.  I sighed, it was too late.  I couldn't get out of it. "Well, better to do it and get it done then."  I told myself. I looked down at Angelica's smiling, dark red-skinned face.  She always wanted me to try this with my abilities, although I never want to use them, if at all. "I love you, you know."  She hugged tight to me.  "Thanks for doing this." "Demons have to stick together I guess."  I looked over at the three ...

Aside for Portland In Black.  Check it out if you like this and want to see what happened before and after... JESHA Jesha had woken up sore before.  Hangovers were one thing she'd had experience with.  Combat injuries too. Playing the dumb college girl sometimes meant going a bit overboard on the booze.  Fighting and hunting monsters, that often left her sore.  Shapeshifting into a giant wolf and being riddled with bullets, well, Jesha hadn't developed a complete set of skills for handling that. "Ugh." Jesha opened her eyes, smelling dew and wet clothes around her.  A pile of fabrics covered her prone body.  She stretched reflexively.  Jesha immediately regretted it.  Something didn't feel correct, and her stretching only made it flare up in hot, burning pain.  "Ow!" "Dang it."  Jesha tried to get a look at her body.  Naked under the pile of clothes, she'd had the presence of mind during the end of the fight to drag...

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  < Previous Part | Start of this Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories Noir tried not to blink.  Again, he didn't quite think of anything to say.  So he said nothing at all. Check out my dA page for more of my art stuff . Black Anna seemed to take this all in stride. She kicked her legs, humming to the music being played by some her macabre musicians.  "Its alright, I didn't expect an answer right away.  I know I'm..." She waved a hand in the air.  She made a circular motion. "...someone new for you.  But still, I can show you want it'll be like here with me." "...Right."  Noir closed his eyes.  A part of him started to think.  Before he knew it, Noir felt the words coming out of his mouth.  Thinkin...

Noir Bedarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  <  Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part >  | More Noir Badarte Stories Check Out This Art At My dA Page Noir woke up from the darkness again. "We may need to give him some sort of transfusion."  A voice explained, her tone sounding more like groveling and begging than explanation.  "He is going to keep blacking out if he doesn't replenish the blood he lost.  But I think his thumb will-" "That's enough."  Anna cut off.  "He's waking back up!  Everyone give him space!" Noir blinked his heavy eyelids.  Each muscle in his body felt like solid bricks, but at least he could feel able to move them.  He wasn't paralyzed as bad as before.  But Noir could tell he shouldn't try anything in his current...

Caribbean, Late 1680s  My eyes were locked and frozen.  I couldn't move.  My body... this wasn't what I had paid for. [Sight is not sight.]  I heard the old woman say.  But her mouth didn't move.  Instead she just breathed in deep.  Unmoving, unflinching. I tried to mouth a response.  I tried to get up and strangle this witch who'd dare to imprison as salty a man like me.  I'd put this dark-skinned hag in her place and- [Or what?] Her voice was in my head.  I could feel something like fingers in my brain.  [It hides in your mind.  Your inner dream is infected with It.  I hunt.  Be quiet.] Something then burned in my mind.  It hurt, like glaring into the sun or the burning iron of the bosun's whip.  I remembered back to my ship and my mates.  To the shipment we'd taken.  The gold and the other things we'd taken from that chest at the bottom of that unholy pit. Our dreams turned into nigh...

Noir Bedarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  < Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories Like this?  Check it out more on my dA page. The teen-aged monster- Noir was certain that she had to be a monster of some kind, based on the aura he felt off her- approached the couch where the stoners' corpses laid.  She sat between their dead bodies, talking softly to them.  Noir felt goosebumps rise over his skin as he watched her, his paralyzed body locked into seeing what she did next. Anna bit down on her the thumb on her left hand.  There was a crunch, then black ichor spurted out from the wound.  Not blood, but a black ichor.  She poured black ichor into her right hand, cupping to collect the black ichor.  The ichor hissed, as if alive on its ...

Noir Bedarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  Part 14. < Previous Part | Start of the Story  | Next Part >| More Noir Badarte Stories " Twinkle, twinkle, little star... "  A woman sang the words.  Noir felt the inky darkness of unconsciousness lying over him. He opened his eyes, but just barely.  Confused, Noir tried to get up.  There were still gunshots going off in the distance.  Gary and Larry's corpses had been taken off the couch. A soft hand brushed his hair. "Elle?"  Then Noir blacked out again. " How I wonder what you are. " Noir woke up again, he didn't know how long later, but couldn't manage the strength to open his eyes.  He could hear her voice, still singing the words as something carried him.  His leg still throbbed with pain, blood still gushi...

Portland In Black  Ada Blackthunder shook her dishwater blond hair in irritation.  "No, I still don't understand sir.  Perhaps you should spell it out to me."  Her eyes both were green, and she didn't wear much makeup.  Her skin was a darkish color, but blended with somewhat sharp eyes and a strong chin. Wilson frowned.  "I don't make the rules Ada." "These aren't fuck-" Ada stopped herself.  She realized she'd been shouting, alerting everyone in the Green-Wyatt Federal Building could hear her.  The main presence of the Federal Government in Portland, the United States Multiversal Survey only had a tiny corner office.  Most of the time, Ada and others working with her felt like the black sheep, relegated to a tiny office far away from the main activities of the rest. She waited until eyes stopped staring at her and Wilson as they walked back to the safety of their office. "It has nothing to do with rules, you know that....

Let it burn they told me.  Flesh that burns itches.  Or that's what I imagine it does. They tie my wrists together. Tight against the post.  So very tight. I can hear their screams. The fire consumes.  It purifies you.  It eats the flesh away. Pain?  Just pain for a second.  Pain fades.  Like memories, they fade. No more flesh, no more pain.  The mob took my flesh from me.  The witch hunt took me unto a pyre. I'm still here.  Burning. Centuries mean nothing anymore, just flickers in the flame.

< Previous Part |  Start of the Story | Next Part > |  More Noir Badarte Stories Maybe because the guy was stoned.  Or maybe the house wasn't his to begin with either.  The front had been left open.  The chatter and laughter could be heard coming from inside. A young guy laughed at it.  Then Noir recognized the smoke coming from inside. "Ah.  Well, I could use the hit I guess."  Noir muttered to himself, recognizing the familiar hash smell.  He took a bit in. Jesha frowned.  "What did you say?  I didn't hear you." Noir shrugged.  "Nevermind.  Let me do the talking." Noir walked in through the front door, knocking on its peeling white paint.  "Anybody home?" "Wha...?"  One voice sounded half asleep. "Hey- Uh-" Another stammered. Noir walked into the room with his arms up.  He pulled out a small ziploc bag.  He waved it out.  "Got a light guys?" The room looked unkempt, h...

Noir Bedarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.  Part 12. < Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Bedarte Stories Noir didn't run, but he didn't walk slow either.  He followed the trail of purple flames on the ground, his eyes locked.  Other pedestrians gave him curious looks. They couldn't see it.  They couldn't see the Geist either.  Noir knew that.  He hoped that they wouldn't pay too much mind because of all the rain.  Ignorance of a sort that protected people.  People of a sort, anyway. "Noir!" Jesha called from behind him.  "Hey, wait up!" Noir tried to focus on the trail.  It helped him to ignore the throbbing still coming up his arm from his swollen thumb. "You need to let me help you, you know."  Jesha told him. "I... di...

USMS External Threat Profile:  "Öndurdís" Prior Log Entries The first rift to the " Jotunheim " dimension discovered on the North American continent.   Agent Katherine Daniels encountered it while investigating a unrelated incident in eastern half of North Dakota .  She became trapped in the dimension's other side for three days, until Daniels was forced to make violent contact with natives. The rift itself connects into the City of Öndurdís.  Populated by Giants (a variety referred to as Frost Giants, but the Log has very little more to add on that), the City had a tech level analogous to medieval Europe.  See below for a transcript of Daniel's debriefing. The rift opens at different times throughout the year.  It remains open for days on end. The Jotunheim end of this Rift remains open for only one hour each day.  Daniels learned this after falling into the rift, which seems connected to a set of stables in Öndurdís.  After it closed,...