Abandoned Hope, a DC Multiverse RPG
Display results as :
Advanced Search
Important Links
Latest topics
Earth and Mars collideMon Oct 30, 2017 7:49 amBrion Markov
James MonroeMon Oct 09, 2017 7:32 amBrion Markov
The First HornsSun Oct 01, 2017 5:04 amDiana Of Themyscira
A Bat on the IceWed Sep 27, 2017 8:31 pmDiana Of Themyscira
Soooooo, now what?Fri Sep 15, 2017 10:48 pmOswald C. Cobblepot
Pamela IsleyMon Sep 11, 2017 12:27 amPoison Ivy
Hugo StrangeSun Sep 10, 2017 11:43 pmHugo Strange
Who is online?
In total there is 1 user online :: 0 Registered, 0 Hidden and 1 Guest


View the whole list

December 2017


We have 14 registered usersThe newest registered user is Zatanna Zatara Our users have posted a total of 31 messagesin 21 subjects
Social Media

View previous topicGo downView next topic
Posts : 2
Points : 7
Reputation : 1
Join date : 2017-09-08
View user profile

A Bat on the Ice

on Tue Sep 26, 2017 4:27 pm
The world is changing in ways no one can imagine. Aliens are appearing in the skies across the world; from a benevolent god being saving people in Delaware, and an army descending on the west coast of America only to be repelled by unknown entities, to ships falling to wage war in mainland Europe. Across the seas, strange creatures are being pulled up by fishing nets. Gotham continues as it always has, many people go about their jobs and spending time with their families, but the darker elements still work in the shadows toward their agendas. As diverse as the people were who face regular terror in the city, there are a select few who would attempt to make a change in that environment. Especially during a night like this, when the sun has passed below the horizon and clouds hang like a blanket over Gotham. Only the light of the moon rising over the sea gives any natural light, casting long shadows from streetlights and the neon signs that survive the degradation of years without maintenance. A long, black Mercedes Benz Sedan passes through the city to the newest club in Gotham. It is a shining beacon in the dank waterfront amongst abandoned warehouses; a breath of fresh cool salt air to revitalize a neglected portion of the city. Hopefully, the music and drinks bring people in and create jobs for those in need. Many of them wait in line to get inside at the velvet rope, wondering who would step out of the car. The initial surprise at seeing a woman far more beautiful than any fashion model from the far side of the world is dwarfed by screams of shock from many as they saw who stepped out of the car next, causing the bouncers waiting to jump with surprise. A tall man with broad shoulders, framed by a tailored black suit to compliment his hair, and a striking pair of dark eyes look out with a smile.

His hand raises to wave to the people and his deep voice rolls out over their combined sound. “Thank you everyone, but please, calm down. I'm just here to enjoy the night. I hope you all do the same.” While he extends an arm to hook the arm of his lovely date, he gives her an honest smile. There are so many things he'd like to say to her but instead he looks ahead to stride up to the parting rope without hesitation. Bruce Wayne is on every VIP list in town whether by name, or reputation. The glass doors, bathed in a pale blue light beneath the name, “Iceberg Lounge,” open before he arrives to the bouncers. Both of them were made much happier by the hundred dollar bills he passed them in a way few could even notice. A skill long ago mastered amongst other sleights of hand, but nothing in his past could prepare him for the sight before his eyes. The scale of the lounge is unlike the rest of Gotham. From the circular glass display on their left to the upper levels on disc like platforms on wide pillars with stairs leading down each layer to those tables in a half ring around a huge custom pool. Floating atop the water is a fake iceberg where a full band plays a lively tune bring up the mood of those scattered around the many seats. Everything highlighting the namesake of the establishment. All eyes shift to the pair, and for a brief second he steals a few words with his date. Leaning close to whisper in her ear, “I have a feeling that we'll be smiling more than I like to.” Cutting his attempt at a joke short with a chuckle. As he turns to grin at one of people approaching for word, and any could see the work required to move through the crowd. A greeting, and small talk wherever there is need to let them pass up one flight of stairs to a platform. Past the tables to one near the edge. The acoustics of the space channeling up the music to their seats and diffusing out the other voices. Giving some minuscule measure of privacy.
Posts : 15
Points : 19
Reputation : 1
Join date : 2017-09-03
Age : 25
Location : Europe
View user profilehttp://abandoned-hope.forumotion.me

Re: A Bat on the Ice

on Wed Sep 27, 2017 12:31 am
Message reputation : 100% (1 vote)
Things have changed. They've changed in so many ways. Flying spacemen, mythological warriors, aquatic people... and last, but not least, a vigilante bat. And that's just the so-called good guys. Gotham has faced her challenges over the centuries, from the corrupted founders, via the mobsters lusting for fictive power, to the present state, where nicknamed ''villains'', nameless pseudonyms hidden behind masks and symbols, finally take control. This Riddler fellow, the anonymous going by the name of Edward Nygma, caused unseen chaos in the city. Something never seen before. And the Arkham episode, a horror so surreal that even Lovecraft would end up dumbfounded. And all that in just - one year. Imagine a century of hell crammed into one bloody year and augmented several times? You have? Well then, welcome to Gotham City, where Hell is something you wish for. 

Oswald's thoughts had been interrupted by a sudden saxophone improvisation from the jazz orchestra, which is when he noticed his blurred reflection in the golden liquid of his glass. Taking a sip of his whiskey, Oswald remembered that it was live orchestra night in the Iceberg Lounge, which is why he himself had been present in the first place. Live nights always attracted the largest number of guests and this one was no exception; to top it all, almost every member of Gotham's elite was present. How could they not be? It was the most exclusive place in town, after all. Smirking at the irony of it all, the fake glamour, the so-called elite - hypocrites, frauds, criminals, swindlers, adulterers, the lot of them - Oswald stood up from his  isolated séparé on the top floor and observed the people below. He sent out a few courteous smiles, a few raised glasses and a small amount of friendly waves, having to keep up appearances. Oswald owed much of his socialite reputation to his Lounge and the hotels/casinos he had built in the past years, but in order to allow himself to stay behind the curtain, he had to come in front of it. People were, and that is a sad fact, shallow creatures. Give them a few gossips, some superficial insight into the life of someone they viewed as overly distant for themselves, and you had their full attention. There was no need for anything peculiar, anything firmer - just a glimpse through the keyhole and that's it. Bruce Wayne was a prime example of that phenomenon, even more than himself, but that was a completely different topic. 

''Speaking of the devil'', Oswald said to himself as he noticed the man himself, Gotham's most known playboy and billionaire, Bruce Wayne. He was in the company of a beautiful, black-haired woman, someone whom you would describe as his perfect date for such an occasion. ''Only one, this time. Funny'', Oswald commented, again to himself, as he withdrew to his seat. Taking another sip of his whiskey, he remembered something. He knew Bruce Wayne. From school. They were, in a broad sense of the term, friends. Funny, I never thought of that before, Oswald pondered. He was somewhat older than him, several years, and although they never were exactly peers or companions, they had socialized a few times during their youth. Oswald was an academic and personal success, someone who had surpassed his personal tragedy and became a role-model for the people around him; Bruce Wayne, whose experience was similar to Oswald's, looked up to him in a way and Oswald was aware of that. It was both flattering and a responsibility for him, as he wanted to leave a good impression and, if possible, help his young colleague with his troubles. Sadly, they never got the chance to talk more thoroughly, to share their experiences, their... pain. Despite all their differences, pain was something that connected the two of them and it was, whether they liked it or not (it's funny how time and nature play such a wicked, ruthless game with people), a connection that would last forever. Oswald sighed. 

A waitress passed by his table. ''Do you need anything, sir?'', she asked, slightly intimidated. ''No, I am fine. Thank you, my dear'', Oswald smiled, but not with a visible melancholy on his face. He then remembered. ''Oh, dear, please. I'd like to ask a favour of you, if you don't mind?'', he asked, gently. ''Y-yes, Mr. Cobblepot, sir... anything'', she replied, startled by his tone and demeanor. ''Would you, please, make sure Bruce Wayne's all settled for the evening? His lovely companion also. Anything they want, it's on the house. If they need privacy, do not hesitate to bring them up here'', he said and smiled again. The young waitress nodded in response and quickly rushed to fulfill her task. ''I missed my chance all those years ago. Maybe I can make amends this time'', he took another sip of his drink, ''It truly is time for a change. For me. For him. For Gotham. For Penguin''.
Posts : 3
Points : 12
Reputation : 3
Join date : 2017-09-08
View user profile

Re: A Bat on the Ice

on Wed Sep 27, 2017 8:31 pm
Message reputation : 100% (1 vote)
Diana followed Bruce to the Iceberg Lounge, led by their interlocked arms. She wore a backless, blue cocktail dress, decorated by golden accents and a band around her arm. The colors were a nice contrast to her bronze Greek skin and dark hair. The outfit was completed by a thick animal fur that was wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her warm in her otherwise protectionless attire. Diana’s slender legs sliced through the chilly breeze like silken blades, each foot gracefully placing itself in front of the other despite the tall stilettos at her heels. The princess’ outfit was striking enough, but it seemed that the attention was mostly on her partner. Who could blame him? He was, after all, Gotham’s most sought after man. Despite this, Diana could hear whispers circulating, discussing how they didn’t recognize the newest model that was accompanying Bruce Wayne as his date. Some of the comments were quite pleasant to hear, while others (mostly out of jealousy) were a bit more… unflattering, to say the least. Either category didn’t seem to bother Diana, at least visibly, as she strode down the carpet with her chin high. The light of the club’s fluorescent sign struck Diana’s dress and made it appear as though she were glowing with an incandescent icy blue. The features of her face became even more highlighted as the darkness of the night played with the light of the building. A smirk touched her lips as she noticed Bruce’s sly charity to the bouncers; was this genuine benevolence or part of the act as Gotham’s flashy billionaire? Of course, Diana had known Bruce long enough to understand that either way, he had good intentions at the root of anything he did.

A rush of cool air kissed the princess’ body as the pair entered the lounge, and Diana’s wide eyes took in the grandeur of the city’s newest nightclub. She had been to the Amsterdam Ice Bar, but this place was a unique engineering marvel by itself. Despite the due attention to the club’s miraculous scale, the gazes of the patrons inside were inescapable. To be fair, there at least was much less negative gossip circulating inside rather than outside. Bruce had taken notice for the most part at least. Diana giggled softly in ticklishness as he whispered in her ear, a quality that had never changed ever since she was a child. She turned to look up at him and whispered back with a voice that dripped in her Mediterranean origin, “I wouldn’t mind, you’re cute when you smile.” Her rosy lips held its coy grin, even after Bruce turned away to make small talk. Despite how well he hid it, it was apparent that he was efficiently moving through the crowd. It looked as though he could use some help; the pair were drawing an ever increasing amount of attention. She took initiative and began engaging in the mass socialization, her bright smile and sophisticated charm making the elites forget that they were trying to talk to Bruce Wayne instead of her. Not only was she following Bruce’s example, Diana was, well… surpassing him. It became abundantly clear that she had gone to more than her fair share of these events, maybe a bit too many as she herself began to lead Bruce along. And yet, Diana didn’t look as if she were rushing in any capacity. If anything, the princess looked as if she were right at home. When they reached the stairs, finally out of the mob, Diana slowed her pace and slyly looked back at him over her shoulder, her back exposed to him through the dress she wore. “You’re slower than an old woman, Mister Wayne. Literally,” she chuckled. Her stilettos clicked as they went up the stairs and finally came to the platform. On the way to their table, Diana looked up at the balcony above. Her eyes flashed over a man for a brief moment, before he turned around and retreated to where she could no longer see him. Diana had been alive for a long time, and she had developed somewhat of an intrinsic sense of what people were like. There was something… off about that man. The princess couldn’t quite put her finger on it; there just seemed to be an elusiveness to him. Some sort of veil, not necessarily bad, but different. However, Diana’s attention focused back on where she was going and the thought easily fluttered away just as easily as it had fluttered in. It would be unfair to make any sort of judgment anyway; she didn’t even know who she had seen. Diana’s arm smoothly unlocked itself from Bruce’s and the princess seated herself. Her hands clasped in front of her face as she turned her head to look at the orchestra that played atop the iceberg, a kind of curiosity in her eye. “My, this place is beautiful. I’m so glad we can finally have a night to ourselves.
Sponsored content

Re: A Bat on the Ice

View previous topicBack to topView next topic
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum