go_mischief (go_mischief) wrote in newalliance, @ 2014-04-17 00:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | agent fitz, agent simmons, scarlet witch, vision, wiccan |
Who: NPC’s and OPEN
Where: Broxton, Oklahoma, West of Oklahoma City
When: April 14th to April 23.
What: Time and space? It’s more like timey wimey stuff. And it’s all converging on this little town.
Rating: Pg...13?
ooc: All right! This is the opening to the Asgard plot. For this week, feel free to have your sciency, your suspicious, your curious heroes who are all “I have a bad feeling about this…” gravitate to the area. That is to say, if you want your char to be in a fray of trolls, giants, Aesir, and elves (oh my!) this is a good way to get them to the area if they’re not speedsters, people with swift air flight or portalling capabilities. Enjoy! Make new friends. ...You might need them later.
Of all the quiet towns in the heartland of the United States, few were as quiet as Broxton. Time seemed to move slower, the place decades behind. Surrounded by farm and grazeland, it nestled amidst easily rolling hills and lazy valleys. A big open sky allowed the small local population to see the approaching weather. They loved being able to see the weather coming in, because the weather was a common topic in the dusty place.
“Looks like a storm’s comin’ in.”
“... Yep.”
“... Ya reckon it’ll be bad enough ta get ternadoes?”
“...Nah.”
“...Yeah, I dun think so neither.”
The two resting retirees and a grandson were outside, two sitting in chairs on a porch and the small child tracing a track for his wooden car in the softer dirt of the road. Many of the side roads in Broxton had yet to be paved. No one was in a hurry to do so.
“So, how much do you think Earl had ta drink to imagine he was ported off to a buncher caves?”
“Beats me. A lot.”
“Whaddya make of his story of a big yellow orc trying to flatten him?”
“I think he’s watched those hobbit movies too many times and dun scraped himself up climbing on Wallace’s tractors again.”
“Yup. That’s what I thought.”
“...Yup.”
They fell into passive silence, giving the town drunk little more thought. Then there was a strange sound. Like an odd silent pop. The two men frowned over their bristly moustaches at the sudden appearance of a slender man all in green dropping from the air into the middle of a road. “What in da- Whoa feller!”
The thin man had spun around swiftly, arrow notched in a bow. The two men stared, while the elf looked entirely puzzled. The boy’s mouth was open in a wide O. The elf said something as well, but the three humans couldn't hope to make heads or tails of the utterance. The elf turned when a wind brushed at his silvery hair, leaves appearing from nowhere and gusting by him. Holding his hand out, the foreigner craned his chin upward. Then suddenly he raced past the men, lightly running up the side of the house and gracefully leaping atop the roof and into the air once more. The elf, just as quickly as he appeared, disappeared.
The two men stared for a moment longer while the boy circled the area, looking around and scratching his head, still holding his wooden car.
“...Ya reckon we should report that?”
~~~
The sheriff’s office was abuzz with people spotting odd things. A farmer claimed some blue dog the size of a horse and a long lizard tail had gobbled a few of his sheep before it disappeared into midair. A lady claimed a gust had come up through the road and spun her skirts over her head and she lost one of her nice high heels. A sinkhole appeared very randomly on one of the farms. Earl was still fuming mad that no one had believed him at first and proclaimed the devil was coming for them all. Finally a sudden blast of black sand that covered an outlying farmhouse in a fine soot was enough. The town folk insisted the authorities call in an expert.
“Well, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to talk to,” the sheriff said into the phone, tired from being on it all morning trying to connect with someone who could somehow help. He pushed a section of the blinds down, watching two children in the street, disturbed. They were throwing a baseball through… something. It dropped from above. The boy grabbed it up where it fell then immediately dropped it and shook his hand, complaining that it was hot. The other immediately poked it testingly, then tossed a handful of gravel sideways into the air. They yelped as it rained down on them from above, racing away. “But we need someone out here right away before something bad happens.”
~~~
The first few that came were mostly prospecting university students, who then called professors, who then called “experts”. Broxton watched on in amusement as all sorts of strange folk came wandering in, setting up instruments, interviewing the laid back community and trying their best to guesstimate when the next phenomenon would occur. They didn’t seem to be able to do this with any success, as far as the Broxton natives were concerned, because while the events were slowly starting to happen more frequently, no one could tell where or what would happen. Mostly their instruments would just indicate something happened, and the Broxton folk would look dubiously at the spot where nothing seemed to occur at all. Other times something obviously did, appearing and disappearing just as quick. One time they even laughed as one of the researchers lost his equipment through a ‘hole’ and bought him enough beer to drown his sorrow for a night.
Yet no one in Broxton had the foggiest idea of what was truly happening.
Asgard did.
Heimdell looked among the stars, watching the different planes tangling paths closely. The Convergence, the lining up of The World Trees’ realms, was coming to a peak. At the worst possible time. So was Asgard’s war.