Of travel I've had my share, man.

[theincredibleherc]

Who: Hercules theincredibleherc and YOU!
What: Hercules arrives
Where: All Over Philly
When: During the Philly camp period.
Warnings/Notes: Possible language, not anticipating anything too serious.



Falling for what seemed like hours and hours is an unfortunate thing, but it's a damn sight better than being stuck in a completely empty mockery of a reality that Hera had created. And hearing voices in his head whispering about saving some place he'd never heard of? That's damn weird, but par for the course when dealing with faeries, just like waking up in a place you definitely didn't fall asleep. Never one to concern himself with the finer details of a request for help...and because anything was better than being stuck in an empty universe...he mentally made up his mind to actually take this at face value. A request for help and a mysterious tugging in some unknown direction was enough to get him up and moving.

And so that is how the Lion of Olympus arrived in the ruins of Philadelphia. Striding out of the forest and into the ruined city, his mace casually carried over one shoulder, Herc noted the signs. Stuffing a hand into his belt pouch, he pulled out his Starkphone and checked for signal, just to be sure. Finding none, he shrugged and casually flicked over to a music all, beginning to blare Guns and Roses. The noise, he figured, could be a beacon to anyone around...or to any enemies that might be lurking nearby. Either was better than being alone.

The longer he went without sight or sound of anyone, the more noise he decided to make. That mostly entailed singing along with whatever song came up on his playlist, a range of classic rock and hair metal that Amadeus had left on there. And a few odd choices that he figured were gags left by Hank.



Eventually he'll find his way to The Philadelphia Free Library, figuring that maybe he could find an old newspaper or something inside. Pushing his way through the door, he stepped inside and called out, just to be sure.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Comments

[wherenoonegoes]

Hold it there.

[As Herc enters the boundary where a member of the squad is teleported back to, a dragon with a helmeted rider comes down from the sky and hovers before him. The speaker is the rider, his voice being just the slightest bit nasally.]

Who are you, where are you from, and how'd you get here?

[theincredibleherc]

[Well this is definitely a dragon. And that is definitely someone on a dragon. That's enough to get Herc to not only drop the casual attitude, but to set his mace and get ready for a fight.]

My name is Hercules, lad. [Everyone is a lad to him.] I come from the forest, and I came on foot.

[Chuffing a laugh...he adds:]

Unless you mean the whole story, in which case you might want to be settling in for a much, much longer tale.

[wherenoonegoes]

Not actually what I meant. I was more wondering if that whole story involved a tunnel and a voice.

[He recognized the name. For different reasons, both Hiccup and Fishlegs loved to drag tales out of visiting merchants. Hercules was still a popular subject.]

Are you the actual Hercules, the Greek hero? Or some guy named after him?

[theincredibleherc]

[Well. He'll laugh at that, mostly because he gets it a lot.]

The last time I checked, I was the original Hercules. Son of Zeus, Champion of Olympus, Avenger, Savior of Manhattan, and a laundry list of other titles.

[awfulcer]

Dixon's been pretty apathetic and sluggish lately, mostly cozying into nooks and crannies of various buildings as well as he can to alternately shiver and nap as the morgul bladewound sucks the energy and warmth from him. Currently, he's huddled under a blanket underneath the cash register at the Wawa. He probably wouldn't rouse for a fire alarm or a stampede of horses.

Pop music, though. Dixon perks right up, hearing some sound that sounds like a modernized Boomtown Rats, and drags his carcass up out of the convenience store like a moth to the flame. Blanket wrapped around him, he shuffles his way out the front door, peering through the twilight until he catches sight of a guy who looks like should be on WWE.

"Did you find that here?"

No hello, no who the hell are you. People have been popping up all over; that's pedestrian by now. But finding some kind of way to avoid draining his iPod down is in Dixon's top 5 priorities.

[theincredibleherc]

Ah. A man. Exactly what he'd hoped to attract. Someone to talk to, someone who might have information. That's good enough for him, since they weren't some flesh eating abomination surging in to try and rip off his face. That would have been acceptable after the utter emptiness of the Continuum, but someone who could talk? Would talk? That was even better.

Grinning, Herc stops in the street and looks towards the general direction of the voice, scanning for it. And turning down the music.

"Nay. I merely happened to have my phone on me when I arrived. In...wherever this is."

[awfulcer]

"God damn it." Dixon had really been hoping there was an electronics store tucked into the wreckage here. He looks at Hercules as if it's his fault that Dixon's prayers haven't been answered. And he shuffles on out of the Wawa to give this guy the once-over, showing up in the twilight looking worse for wear. Dixon's one of those people who lets their appearance go to shit when they're unhappy, and at the moment, blanket around him like a shawl, stubble all over his face, hair scruffy, posture bent and most obviously, face covered with nasty burn scars on his left, he's got the appearance of a junkyard dog.

Guy's already talking like a medieval knight. Great. By now Dixon would probably kill a man to find someone who shared his general context, instead of being a superhero or a living rock or a throwback paladin.

"You got a name? We got a lot of people to introduce you to."

[invisibleheir]

Arturia is keeping herself sort of busy. Sort of. She has that copy of Le Morte d'Arthur in her lap and Excalibur testing against the wall next to her where she's sitting near the door, mostly as some sort of self-imposed sentry duty and mental self-flagellation reading about her failure over and over again. Good job, Arturia. When Hercules enters, she scrambles to her feet, the scabbarded blade held loosely in her left hand.

"Hello and welcome." Arturia eyes Hercules, trying to decide if he should be counted as a threat or not.

"You're new."

[theincredibleherc]

Hercules stands as tall as can be, looking down at the sentry with a mild expression. Not amusement, not aggression, merely the casual regard for another person that he'd show anyone who was not obviously threatening. The blade he dismisses out of hand, since she has yet to draw and in a show of good faith he lets the Golden Mace drop to the floor.

"I am at that," he says in a gentle voice, a smile forming as he spots the book. A good one, if a touch morbid.

"I am Hercules. Who might you be, lovely one?"

[invisibleheir]

Lovely one. Arturia has immediate flashbacks to another man fond of gold and pet names and shudders inwardly. But this fellow is definitely not Gilgamesh--in fact, he's Hercules? Certainly not the one she's familiar with. She stares for a moment, squinting at him. To be fair, she's never met Hercules except when summoned as a Berserker...

"I am Arturia Pendragon, the King of Knights. Once and Future King of Britain." She speaks with a level determination that showcases the willpower and charisma contained within her tiny frame that once united a kingdom.

"I have met one named Hercules before but he was maddened. And different in look than you."

Into the Ruined City

[unsealthecatbox]

"You're not into stealth, are you?

Ange can't deny that's quite the entrance. Here comes a man, blaring some music in English and pretty much alerting everyone in the city of his presence. She can respect someone who wants to make a grand entrance.

"You are lucky there aren't any enemies in this place. You'd be swarmed by them already"

[theincredibleherc]

Herc slowed and flicked off his Starkphone, flashing this stranger a grin and a thumbs up before taking a more relaxed posture.

"When stealth is called for, I'm well acquainted. As for enemies, bah."

He waves the hand holding the mace in a grand gesture, taking in both her and the entire ruined city.

"I'd rather find enemies than the bone-picked carcass of the City of Brotherly Love. Better that than another empty town."

[unsealthecatbox]

Right now most of us would rather to not almost die again. We just got done with an encounter, and given how around half of us are not fighters, we can't deal with endless waves of enemies.

[Well, maybe not 'almost die', but it was certainly an ordeal]

[shipoftheseus]

The ruins of Philly were way too novel and interesting for Phos to linger in the library for very long. Granted, every place they've seen since arriving here were equally new and exciting, but the streets and most of the other abandoned buildings were much more exciting. The library was the one thing that felt a little familiar, and thus they really couldn't be bothered.

So it was while they were out and about, marveling over something relatively mundane like a trashed convenience store, that the music and singing caught their attention. Carelessly leaning out a broken window, they spotted the newcomer quickly enough.

"Hey!" Shouting, they waved a metallic gold arm for attention. "Hey! What's that?"

The new face was distinctly less interesting than the apparently sourceless music. There had apparently been a few new arrivals while they were separated from the group, and everyone here was so strange-looking that the strangeness was starting to feel ordinary. Another organic human-probably person, nothing that wild this time around beyond a particularly large and hairy frame, ho hum.

[theincredibleherc]

Hercules blinked at the voice, turning and looking for the source. When he spots it, a strange metallic creature that looks human...ish the big man frowns. He lifts up the phone to show whoever it was to them, but he doesn't immediately walk closer. Some manner of spirit?

"A Starkphone, stranger. Portable music player, that uses MP3s. I do not know the specifics, merely that it does work."

What a strange question. And what a strange being.

[shipoftheseus]

Up close, they were...not entirely inhuman-looking, but plenty of details were off. Limbs just a bit too long and skinny, "skin" that was too flawless and evenly-colored, hair and eyes that had an oddly crystalline look to them.

The booty shorts and high-heels were probably a but odd in this setting, too.

"Eh?" Phos frowned, perplexed and a little frustrated by a string of largely unfamiliar words and phrases they couldn't make sense of. It was becoming a common experience for them here, but that didn't make it any less annoying. They climbed over the jagged edges of glass to come closer, peering curiously at the little device. "So it just...makes sound?"

Wow, this dude was even bigger up close. Like a furry and less-clothed Sensei.

[balladin]

The sound of the voice and door competed with one of C.C. Deville's best guitar riffs (one of the best opening riffs ever in the opinion of Robbie’s dated trashfest musical tastes). Poison won, and Robbie failed to pick up on who had entered from the other side of the large main room.

“Cause baby we’ll be,” he sang under his breath. There are some things that can be resisted. The chorus of “Talk Dirty to Me” is not one of them. “At the drive-in, in the old man’s Ford…”

But where was the music coming from? It was a little too vibrant for the earworm jukebox. He looked around, assuming it must be Dixon wasting precious dwindling battery.

He was certainly not expecting Hercules to come strolling in. Robbie knows him by reputation – who doesn’t – and there’s some mutual acquaintances. The cavalry has arrived, and, if it’s not a friend, it’s at least someone he hasn’t screamed at or attacked in recent years.

How to get off on the right foot? Of all the gin joints in all the worlds… no, he can’t. It’s too cliché, even for him. He has standards, and Avengers get only his best banter (or mouthing off). There are important questions to be asked, too, like ‘are the rest of the Avengers here?' That can wait until he’s cool with getting rescued by the Avengers when he’s not even in uniform. It’s a matter of pride. Frankly, he feels underdressed in street clothes. Undersized, too, but he could eat a cow daily and not match Hercules.

He gives Herc a small nod, with a serious expression that breaks away into a grin. “Greco-Roman history belongs in the 900s.”

[theincredibleherc]

Hercules stops mid stride, head tilting to one side and looking at the youth. He's small, yes, but there's something vaguely familiar about him. That alone makes him interested, draws him in, and has him thinking hard on the face. He has seen the Avenger's databases on all the metahumans in his world and he isn't nearly as stupid as people think he is.

Unslinging the mace from his shoulder and lowering it to the floor, he grins right back as recognition hits him. And the joke, of course. That's never bad.

"A few centuries earlier, though I suppose if we count the Dewey way it makes me seem younger, Speedball."

[balladin]

The recognition is a mixed bag, but he’ll take it. It means he doesn’t have to introduce himself and do the meeting people in a prolonged crisis dance, but Robbie is aware that it’s infamy that gets him recognized without the fly-eyed demicowl. It could be worse. It could be Moonstone.

“I thought all gods like to shave a few centuries off their age. 3000 years old, looks 30 in a mirror selfie. 20 if he’s a swan.” Robbie’s pretty sure that one wasn’t Hercules, but high school was years ago. He’s let the knowledge lapse because, well, the odds of teaming up with OG Original Greek have only gotten slimmer with age.

So, he’s reduced to swan jokes. It’s probably a sign that it’s time to be serious. “Are the Avengers here? As in, by choice and not by rabbit hole?”

[mark_in_the_sands]

Having escaped the battle on the hilltop with minimal physical injuries ('having your soul almost eaten' is more psychological than physical as it turns out), Cassie had taken it upon herself to range slightly further afield to keep an eye out for encroaching danger and for supplies further outside of hobbling range. The sounds of music in an otherwise-abandoned city are worth investigating. She's not sure if it's a trap or if the person responsible is ignorant of potential dangers or supremely confident in their ability to take on all comers. From the size of the man when she finally sees him, and the size of the mace he's carrying, she's guessing the third (she probably couldn't even lift that thing).

Now to find out if he's friendly. Presenting a small and travel-worn blonde wearing silver bracelets half-covering her forearms and a Grecian-inspired red and gold top over blue jeans.

"Nice mace," she says by way of greeting.

[theincredibleherc]

Hercules stops and puts the music on pause when the woman makes herself known. His eyes flicker up and down, appraising her quickly enough. Young, blonde, pretty, and definitely wearing an outfit that wouldn't look too out of place on Olympus. He grins, a quick but wide expression of both happiness at seeing someone and amusement at the comment.

"Aye, it is. Forged by Hephaestus himself for me." Though he hadn't been thrilled to have the task, he wasn't about to argue with Skyfather Zeus.

"Are you native to this version of Philadelphia, or are you a traveler the same as I?"

[mark_in_the_sands]

"Pfft, no," Cassie answers. "West coast, best coast. But this isn't my reality's Philly either -- more people, less overwhelming vegetation."

Seems friendly enough. She moves closer, but not getting within arm's reach yet. His arm's reach, not hers. He's an appropriately big guy for someone who has a mace forged for him personally by the Olympian god of crafts and metallurgy. Which also tells her that there's a distinct possibility they might be family, considering...everything about Olympus.

"Did your trip here start with a long fall and whispered requests for help?"

[greyerrant]

"Hello."
A a burly, if pale figure looks up from where he is half-slumped against a desk, clad in an old chiton of a sort somewhat similar to what greeks used to wear and eyes Hercules wearily.

"I assume by your appearance, you aren't a foe. But if you are with the black-cloaked figures that assailed us earlier, then say it now, so we can dispense with talk. "

[theincredibleherc]

Herc eyes the man, surprised to find someone that is actually taller than him without being an Asgardian. Though given the build, he might well be an Asgardian, come to think of it.

"Nay," Herc replies, walking up and offering a huge, hairy hand. "I am Hercules. A friend, if you are among those that fell and were pestered by those spirits."

[greyerrant]

"I was indeed. And they have wounded me. Badly, I think."

He rises and takes the hand, suppressing a wince as he shifts his body weight. He gives a firm handshake for all that, though.

"Garviel Loken, Agentia Alpha of Malcador the Sigilite, once of the Luna Wolves."