You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Sibelius Eos Owm
Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: Good Early Early Morning!
With any luck? I'll get to sleep before dawn breaks and fall out of bed before Noon. What did I do to my sleeping pattern to make it hate me so?
But before I'm allowed to do that, Guy must escape his mysterious tailer! I just dunno how exactly yet.
Posted on 2011-05-13 at 07:34:36.
|
Topic: Personal Question...
Subject: Finding the Path
Pathfinder is essentially the spiritual successor to 3.5 D&D for those folk protesting against the (real or imagined) atrocities done to the game by 4.0e.
Those who like it (myself included) describe the game as being 'essentially 3.5e but with a lot of things fixed' or made easier or more streamlined in one or another ways. According to what I've heard, Paizo actually makes the effort to listen and respond to feedback from their fanbase.
Those who dislike it (I haven't met one yet, but teh Interwebz are a bountiful source of information) complain that it is like they tried to fix some things wrong with 3.5e, but didn't make enough changes.
Things I like about it:
-First of all, I like that I can bring it to anybody who has played 3.5 and they can adapt to the rules without blinking an eye.
-Many things *have* been made streamlined--e.g. Instead of 4 skill points + 1/level you simply have 1 point per level and the difference is made up with a class-skill bonus that you automatically get for having ranks in the class skill, allowing for much easier cross-class dabbling; Instead of a hundred different rules for special attacks (Sunder, Disarm, etc.) you have a stat closely resembling the old Grapple Mod called 'Combat Manoeuvre Bonus' that covers all; Racial Favoured Classes done away with; Several skills (i.e. Stealth -> Move Si/Hide, Perception -> Spot/Listen/Search)
-Some awesome flavour things--the first one I ran into that began my steadily growing appreciation for the game was the Sorcerer Bloodlines: powers gained based on where your magic comes from, making them more than just wizards with fewer tricks more times a day (oh, and automatic Eschew Materials, because really, what Sorcerer wants to be inhibited by components from casting the magic that flows through his veins?).
-Some mechanics changed for easier access--Concentration is not longer a skill that your caster would be suicidal to ignore but no other class really bothers with but a stat automatically built into every caster; Spells no longer drain XP and permanently chucking you a level behind for the rest of the game but rather cost mucho coin.
In the end I could go on about the things that were changed and made fancier for a dreadfully long post, but the things that I pick out that appeal to me (like new class abilities adding variety, or cap-features [a la the Monk's 20th level ability] as incentive for characters to single-class it to the top for a change), but these same things won't necessarily be what appeals to everyone else, so instead I can leave a link to the Pathfinder System Reference Document and let those curious browse a bit for themselves.
d20pfsrd.com I recommend checking out classes first.
With that out of the way, I can point out that I do in fact enjoy other systems and Pathfinder is not my one and only true love. I also enjoy CJ Carella's WitchCraft, 3.5 (though I encourage a hybrid of 3.5 supplemental dealies with PF rules), d20 Modern (my first system =P), and I find that 4.0e has a lot of fun battle options despite its lack of roleplaying focus. Also, I haven't played (yet) but I have heard good things about and intend to one day partake in Shadowrun, Exalted, and 2e (the latter of which I almost played but for a premature game collapse).
EDIT: My elegant and finely crafted link was not so finely crafted--it should take you where you want to go now.
Posted on 2011-04-20 at 22:01:44.
Edited on 2011-04-20 at 22:32:25 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: Happy Birthday Eol!!!
Subject: Cumpleaños Feliz!
Wishing thee many happy licks!
Happy Birthday Eol! May the Time Faeries never discover the omission in their records!
Posted on 2011-04-19 at 22:45:15.
|
Topic: The Strength of a Warrior Q&A
Subject: Editing done
It took me a while of beating my head against essays and squandering what time I had between them, but Aaron's edit is up.
If I might take a moment to refresh the situation--the two of you are at a sort of stalemate, though Aaron has more options at his disposal. Neither of your are armed, and there are many people who know where you are in a very public place. If he is let go he may try to escape or attempt to finish the job, though more creative options exist. On top of this to consider there is the fact that the mysterious client in all likelihood will not leave the job undone at one failure.
P.S. For you that may be wondering and waiting, you're next on the list  I'm just winding down on that late semester crunch time we all know and loathe.
Posted on 2011-04-12 at 08:53:32.
Edited on 2011-04-12 at 09:03:00 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: The Strength of a Warrior Q&A
Subject: Oh yup
Yup, saw it--I just haven't gotten a chance to get around to it quite yet, what with my essays and presentation and concert 'n' all that. I left a note for myself to edit the response.
With luck I'll have the presence of mind to pop you a quick message to let you know when I update.
Posted on 2011-03-30 at 07:12:32.
|
Topic: The Egg Tart Game
Subject: Jumping the Gun
Ready or not, there I went!
Posted on 2011-03-26 at 06:01:05.
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Oh ho! What's this? Plot!
Mid-Morning
The V-Corner
Joan watched the girl seamlessly summon up a fair amount of energy instantly, and then put it to work. Before her eyes, Lily’s body became more angular, and her muscles tougher, as though she had suddenly become an athlete.
The witch looked on in silent approval—either this girl was a fairly powerful channeller, to draw up that much energy at once and then execute it immediately, or else being whatever she was allowed her to draw upon her spirit in a different way (it wouldn’t be the first time Joan had seen channelling like this).
Lily held her arm out before her, and with a brief look of concentration, grey-black fur sprouted all along the girl’s forearm.
Lily chuckled. “It’s kind of surprising that my hair is naturally grey, when my human form has red hair, isn’t it?”
“When magic is involved? Not particularly,” Joan shared Lily’s grin, “and it is interesting.”
“I’m going to have to be serious with you for a moment, though.” Joan shifted forward in her chair, looking over the top of her glasses at the odd girl before her. “You are not normal—you know this already, but what you may not know is that this puts you in danger.
“There are creatures living in the world—monsters—that feed off of the spiritual energy of other beings. People who have stronger souls than the average, people like you and I and several other profiles tend to make tempting targets for these predators. In short, because of our strength of spirit, we attract the attention of these monsters.
“Many have a hard time accepting this, but it is not something that we can escape from, it’s a part of who we are—I imagine you can appreciate this more than most. The best we can do is learn to deal with this fact of our lives, and maybe, if we’re good enough, protect others like us.”
Joan let the words hang for a moment, then set down her cup and stood up. “Unless you have anything else you want to talk about, I should get going pretty soon—my son really wants one of those ‘pokey-man’ games for his birthday and I have to go look for one yet.”
(Provided there is nothing)
She drew a card from her wallet and handed it to Lily. “If there’s something you need help with, or if you get a tip on supernatural goings-on, drop me a line.”
“Pleasure meeting you, Lily, mistress Fillæra,” Joan nodded to both, “Take care.”
---
Lily had barely sat down, reinstating herself at the counter with Filly manning the register, when her mother returned.
"I'll just put the groceries away and take over for the lunch rush, hey?" Ms. Vritova called from the back door, already beginning up the stairs. There was no such 'rush' around lunchtime, but sometimes folk popped in to get a sandwich or something.
Her mother returned shortly to take over the shop. "You know what? I feel like pizza for lunch today," she announced, reappearing. "Be a dear and fetch us some, would you?" She handed Lily the money. "Take your time, though, or it'll be cold before I've finished up front here."
---
She was not gone more than a few minutes toward the pizza place, however, when a lightly tickling shiver that had nothing to do with the weather ran down her back. She caught the scent automatically: qi was building up somewhere, radiating from the northeast. Not nearly to the same degree as she felt standing outside the abandoned hospital last night, but more than a little.
She remembered what had happened the last time she had decided to investigate. That wasn't fun. But she was different today, she had the power of knowledge, she knew that it meant something supernatural was going on, something like her.
Lily wondered if Joan was still close enough that she might have felt it. What would a normal person do in her situation? An abnormal person?
Lily Full Ess (-5 SotB, +5 regen)
After School
Public Library
If the woman noted Guy’s blatant disappointment, she said nothing while he contemplated his response.
At last, he answered her.
I am glad to hear it. From here I will leave you an address at this computer—go there at any time soon that is convenient for you. I will give the personnel there your information so you should be able to get in when you go yourself. They will introduce your to the Cabal and be the division you will belong to. You will report to them when needed for missions and you can come to them if you run into any problems.
Do you understand everything I have told you?
She pulled a card out of her pocket and casually penned down something out of Guy’s line of sight while she asked the question.
The woman stood up and pushed her chair in.
If that is all, the telepathic link will end shortly and we will no longer be in contact. Wait one minute before you pick up the card. . . . I am sorry if I have disappointed you somehow. The Cabal woman left on that note.
Seconds after she was out of sight and moments before he was due to pick up the card, however, Guy’s eyes lost focus, seeing into the reality as it was yet to come.
A man wearing sunglasses, dressed in a black coat and of indeterminate age approached the Cabal woman’s terminal. The card was gone from the table and Guy was not at his own computer in the image. The man looked up and Guy saw himself making his way out the library’s main doors.
Posted on 2011-03-25 at 10:50:18.
|
Topic: The Skill Check Game
Subject: Unfortunately, copious amounts of green beer only turn your liver green, not you.
Success is debatable--your heal check is self-medicating with an extra glass the next day.
I roll a fortitude save to avoid becoming inebriated by proximity through the alcohol on both your breaths as I go around attempting to rouse the previous night's carousers
Posted on 2011-03-19 at 01:17:41.
|
Topic: Demonic Vending Machine
Subject: Have we started the Ultimate Showdown? I hope not, that ended messily.
The Machine rattles violently for several minutes, before finally a stream of liquid metal pours forth from the slot, forming a puddle in front of the machine. The liquid metal then rises up and solidifies into the form of Justin Bieber to the fanfare of a thousand screaming fangirls.
The unholy being, dubbed the 'Biebernator' demands to know the status of his students, and the location of the nearest Turbo Man doll, that he might form an evil army to destroy John Connor, much to the confusion of many.
At that moment, a thick, heavily muscled army bursts forth from the DVM slot and wraps around Biebernator's neck. Ahnold's voice, heard from within, screams "Get back here Ai'm not finished with you yet!" and drags it back into the DVM.
For moral support, I quickly hurl in Clint Eastwood, complete with trademark themes loaded onto one of those iPod stereo thingies.
Posted on 2011-03-10 at 08:32:39.
Edited on 2011-03-10 at 09:15:33 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: The Strength of a Warrior Q&A
Subject: Saw this earlier, but forgot it while in essay-mode
No prob, I'm always in favour of supped-up badassery. What do we want to have adjusted?
Posted on 2011-03-03 at 06:52:23.
|
Topic: The Strength of a Warrior Q&A
Subject: For you, Aaron
Just as a thief things everybody else is sneaking around to steal things and a philanderer imagines affairs at the slightest hint, I figure Aaron may be more aware of this possibility in character knowledge than in player knowledge, and might reach different conclusions than the player.
I'll just collect details here, including specific background info that may make the conclusion more apparent:
(note that Aaron doesn't necessarily know the conclusion either, just these details, so I can't really dictate that he does know what's going on, just give you an idea what I think he may be suspecting)
-This 'janitor' showed up just recently--a new guy, relatively unknown
-Aaron recalls that he has been giving him odd looks out of the corner of his eye, watching the assassin-as-kindergarten teacher
-He is evidently alarmed and trying to hide it when he sees Aaron in specific cornering him in a confined space
-Aaron's instincts are telling him that the man is likely not a janitor but something more dangerous using the harmless disguise for some purpose.
-While not suspicious in itself, the man calls himself "Mr. Smith", Aaron's real name.
-The last detail, which may cast the entire situation in an entirely different light--if it is actually related to this situation--Aaron has enemies who may not have been too happy with his business in the past.
Does that clear things up for you? If not things may have to take an interesting turn.
btw, 800 posts!
Posted on 2011-02-26 at 00:18:07.
Edited on 2011-02-26 at 00:18:53 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Now we're getting somewhere... let's hope the Chronicler knows where to go after this
Mid-Morning
The V-Corner
“The mask is a spirit?” Joan asked, surprised.
Hello, there. Fillæra spoke into both their minds.
“Ah, I see. Most pleased to meet you, mistress Fillæra. So you have been Lily’s teacher thus far?”
Insofar as much as she needed to know in order to keep herself safe. Now, it seems, she has come to a point in her life where she will need more.
“In that case, I shall fill in where I can help.”
“For starters—magic is real. I don’t think this should come as too startling a revelation to you; from what you have told me, you can use it in your own unique way, calling it qi.
“The others you saw with me and myself can all use magic. The three of us belong to a loose group of mixed magical practitioners and psychics called the Wicce*. The three of us of my coven use our gifts to do what we can to combat the supernatural predators that live out there—though we can only do so much.
“The men we were fighting last night were a group of satanic fanatics and their drug ring that we had been watching for some time. They were planning to get together to use the energy of the full moon combined with their own rituals to unleash their evil on the world.
“We were going to team up with another coven we know in order to take them down before they could abuse their power to do any serious harm, but something happened to our allies and they weren’t able to make it. We still managed to defeat the cultists, but their pet fiend spirit, I fear, may still be loose somewhere out there.”
Joan paused to sip the tea Lily made for her. “But there’s no need to toss my own problems onto you. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I’m afraid I don’t know much about—well, what should I call you?”
She pronounces it “Wick”
Afternoon
Martin Taylor Elementary School
Edited
“I am sorry to intrude, my good sir, but I was highly recommended to speak with you…” Mr. Avalon replied.
“Is that so?” Aaron could see the effort he was making to remain calm and collected, though occasionally his eyes darted as if he were expecting a trap to be sprung on him at any moment. "What about?"
“On why you have been spying on me..." An intense glare is shot out at the man, cold as ice on a December night. "and who you are working for!”
The wannabe janitor recoiled as if struck. His face remained knit together in an impassive façade only through the force of will, the faint shudder in his extremities giving away the levels of adrenaline coursing through his system.
“Shit.” He spat the word at the floor. He exhaled a long breath out his nose. “Shit.” He said, quieter. Finally, he looked up at Aaron again.
“You have enemies in Italy with a lot of money and a chip on their shoulder. Probably killed someone’s favourite third-cousin-of-the-Pope or something. I didn’t ask. You know how it is.” He peeled off his moustache. He was a tall man, slightly taller than Aaron. The hard lines of his face formed a steel mask.
“So what happens now?”
After School
Public Library
Perhaps you mistake me, Mr. Perrin—allow me to explain more fully. I am currently visiting Adelaide for reasons I am not at liberty to disclose, but I can tell you what led me to you.
I caught a glimmer of insight into the future that showed me your school that suggested to me that there may be something important to occur if I were to follow the glimpse. Through further probing I was eventually able to determine you as my target. From there is was not hard to guess that I had found another young esper.
As for my comments on studying your talents, I simply meant that, experimenting on their own, many young espers do not explore the reaches and depths of their ability. For example, many lone espers do not realize that they can work collectively with others to enhance the strength of their powers. I know of a pair of twins, one of which can play the piano with his mind and the other which can hurl cinderblocks. The combination of their minds allows them to together move heavy objects with extreme precision.
I do not mean to suggest that you do not understand your gift, but rather that there may be things that you did not previously realize you could do with it.
As a person with demonstrably strong control over your powers, if you wished to join the Cabal, you would become an Assistant—a standard member—and in exchange for access to the Cabal’s resources you would aide the Cabal when necessary to deal with threats to our safety.
As for the Cabal’s interest in you, I offer insight by asking you to consider their position. The Cabal’s main goals have long been to find, guide, and, above all, to protect those with the gift for the Sight. Once this was not true—as the tale goes, the original Cabal back in ancient Greece, in its awkward developing stages, thought to become the rulers of their ungifted companions, by right of their superior talents. This ended badly.
This lesson taught the Seers of the Cabal to respect the freedom of their less gifted brethren and instead turn to the study of the Sight. It also taught them that discovery of their existence could result in a backlash of fear against them and all those like them. Thus, the need for secrecy is born.
As a result, we try to discover new Seers as quickly as we can so that we may help them to understand and not fear their unusual talents and that we might help them to protect their gift—and by extension, the existence of all those like them—from the awareness of the general public.
Should they decline our offer, as they are free to, we merely wish to strongly impress upon them the dire need for secrecy.
Forgive me—I begin to ramble.
(While writing Lily's scene I totally got the image of them drinking tea in my head and it wouldn't go away peacefully, so I made it canon.)
Posted on 2011-02-18 at 11:43:52.
Edited on 2011-04-12 at 08:45:06 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Into the Fox's Den/The Seer is Seen
Mid-morning
The V-Corner
“Your natural—?” Joan began. Comprehension dawned quickly, however.
“So you were—ah, you‘re the—uh, so that was you, then?” she said, uncertain. Pieces seemed to fall into place as she spoke.
“I see.” She said, turning back to face Lily. “And you had no idea what was going on? Oh dear, I see.”
“Well, for starters, my name is Joan—I would impress upon you the necessity for secrecy, but I imagine you’re well enough initiated into that as it is. Now, you said you live on the second floor? Yes, I think it would be best if we had a seat—I imagine we will have a bit to talk about.”
Lily hung an ‘Away’ sign on the door—it had been a slow day, and it was nearing about the time of day for low traffic, so she didn’t expect it would make much of a difference anyway.
She and Joan set up at opposite sides of the little table in the kitchen.
“So,” Joan began, “Why don’t we start at the beginning? How familiar are you with the supernatural world? I don’t want to make any assumptions based on, well, on what you are.”
After School
Public Library
Very well. As you may already have guessed, you and I are alike. What they call folk like us differs depending on who you ask and how official you want to make it sound: Psychics, Seers, Psionics—the popular term I’m hearing from the younger crowd these days is ‘Esper’. They all mean the same thing—we can do things with our minds that most people cannot, that most people regard as impossible.
What I want you to know is that you are not alone. I am a member of a group of people like you and me—we call ourselves the Cabal of the Psyche. Our purpose is to seek out and contact those with the Sight, help them to understand their abilities, and to protect them from the persecution of those who would see our kind harmed. Had we found you when you were younger, we could have taught you how to control your powers, and given you access to a community of people who understood what you were going through. Regrettably, it is getting increasingly difficult to locate new Seers in this age.
Regardless, we could still help you to discover the extents of your power, help you with problems you may encounter, and provide you with a network of people who know what it’s like to live with these powers—I would recommend you not underestimate the value of this last resource.
Know also that we are in no way forcing you to join the Cabal. You are free to choose membership for yourself, or simply to remain in contact with our people—or even, if you preferred, you could never hear from us again. We only ask that, whatever you do, you work to maintain the secrecy that protects all of us.
You don’t have to decide right now, if you need time to consider.
Guy moved onto the database of parks while she spoke, maintaining the illusion that he was researching something on the computer.
(Like the lady says, whether you choose for Guy to accept of decline the offer is up to you. Also, if you wanted to use italics to convey non-verbal speech, River, you simply precede the italicized line with an ‘i’ in pointed brackets, and end the line with an ‘/i’. Like this [i]Monkeys,[/i], except with <>’s. More tricks like this, should you feel the urge to use them, can be found under this thread.)
Posted on 2011-02-14 at 04:13:00.
Edited on 2011-02-14 at 04:58:11 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Two outta three ain't so bad. The mentor figures begin.
Mid-morning
V-Corner Convenience Store
“Umm… I realize this is sudden, but if you’re not busy would it be alright if I talked with you? About last night.”
The woman stopped short in turning away from the register.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean?” she said, her mind clearly racing to figure out the possible connection, or else the lies she would be about to make up if necessary.
After School
Adelaide Public Library
“Destiny is a funny thing. Why do you think it brought you here?”
Ah, yes, I often find myself wondering that selfsame question. Very perceptive, Mr. Perrin. In this case I suppose my role is that of guidance. The words rang in his head with her voice exactly the way books always said it would.
Guy glanced at the woman. She wore a business suit and dress pants, her dark brown hair straight and she was maybe in her mid-thirties—she had a professional air about her as she dialled into the Internet, never glancing his way.
He returned to his research, scrolling down the massive list of universities, colleges, and educational institutes of every variety.
Very good, don’t let it look like this exchange ever happened. I can see we should have little to worry about with you. To reply you only have to return your thoughts along the link I have established.
Now—are you going to ask who I am, or do you figure on letting me do the talking?
(Guah! I go to put in Lily’s update and I find that Guy has had one in the meantime )
Posted on 2011-02-11 at 04:10:42.
|
Topic: The Strength of a Warrior Q&A
Subject: Some one actually used the Q&A?
Ach, okay, I guess I remembered wrong or something
It doesn't really change anything except the context... and perhaps a few details. I'll get on that.
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 01:47:17.
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Chapter 2 - Title to come as I dream it up.
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (20d to Next Magical Event: Midsummer)
The Morning After
Home
”Police discovered the body of what appeared to be a victim of a savage attack by a wild animal early this morning. The body was found near Lakeside district near the edge of Peacemaker National Park. Police say that while animal attacks near the forest are not unusual, what makes this case special is how far the body was discovered from the forest’s edge. The identity of the victim is unknown at this time.”
Aaron Smith powered down his breakfast and shut off the television. There had been no mention of bodies discovered at the hospital yet, but he suspected it was only a matter of time before the massacre was discovered by some local teens messing around where they shouldn’t. He knocked back a full glass of milk. One had to keep those bones and teeth strong.
It took only a moment to gather his things for the day. Within minutes he was roaring down road on his way, riding his heavy monster of a motorcycle with a self-important disregard for a small number of the rules of the road.
One modest commute later, he pulled his motorcycle into the Martin Taylor Elementary School parking lot. Aaron pulled up into one of the stalls, killed the engine, and tried to rub away the remainder of the ache leftover from last night, before dismounting. He grabbed his business bag from the back of the bike and slung it over his shoulder.
The grounds were littered with children and parents still arriving by bus or stealing away a few minutes on playground before their morning. Aaron strode into the building and navigated the halls to a particular room.
“Good Morning, Mr. Avalon,” one of the teachers greeted him as he passed her in the hall. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, and turned in to the classroom.
He threw his things under the desk at the front of the room, then took a piece of chalk and drew a large "Zz" and a crude facsimile of a zebra on the blackboard.
That done, he leaned back in his chair and flipped Joan’s business card out of his pocket, mulling over it and the implications behind it until the final bell rang and his class filed into their desks.
---
Mid-morning
She looked so different in the full light of day that Lily hadn’t even recognized her until she came up to the counter to pay. Her nose tickled just slightly when she had approached the counter, forcing her to inhale reactively, giving her a clear feel for the woman’s qi—a small measure less than her own resources.
It was the red-haired woman with the glasses from last night.
Lily’s toes curled under the counter unconsciously. There was no way she could recognize her—she had spent nearly the entire night in her fox shape. There was no connection between then and now. But still…
The woman set her purchases on the counter. Milk. Chips. Package of good quality pencils. “‘Bout time we got some sunshine around here,” she said conversationally. Lily agreed absently, pointedly trying not to think about her own recent exasperation with the weather and whether that might give her away.
You’re nervous, Fillæra observed as she was fetching the woman’s change.
This woman—she was there last night, she responded.
Then maybe she can help fill in the blanks, the mask posited casually.
What!? Lily looked sharply down at the butterfly mask beneath the counter, leaving puzzled Joan awaiting her change.
“Pardon me—I think I dropped a dime,” Lily offered, quickly.
“It’s okay—” Joan began, but Lily dove behind the counter.
Are you crazy? she asked the mask. Mom said I shouldn’t tell anyone I don’t trust—and I haven’t told anyone yet, anyway!
Your mother is a smart woman, but she doesn’t know how do deal with everything you’re going to be faced with. Maybe this woman can help—you said she seemed to be the responsible sort of person. It’s your call, you don’t have to, but it might be worth your while. Stand up now—you’re beginning to seem strange, and heavens know we can have that now can we?
Lily stuck her tongue out at her sister and stood up to give Joan her change.
---
Before Noon
Running. Fantastic. As if a body needed to be dragged around a field for an hour—just in case one had any energy left to fill that time between the crack of dawn and lunch.
Or perhaps he was just grumpy because he got so little sleep last night, to say nothing of his exertions. Wake up, go to school, save the world. At least it was nice outside—as if that did anything to dry up the mud before class.
Guy rounded the corner at the far end of the field. Somewhere between one step and the next he became aware that somebody was watching him. The feeling fell upon him suddenly and he couldn’t shake it. He cut his already slack pace a bit and looked around, trying to identify the source of the sensation.
He spotted her, standing in the shadow of a tree, just beyond the fence at the edge of the field. From as far away as he was, he could feel that she was watching him. She turned away almost immediately when he noticed her, but there was an undeniable moment. Guy quickly checked his memory and determined that she wasn’t one of the coven from last night.
This was both good news and bad. If she had been, it would mean they were tracking him, and that concerned him—but if she wasn’t from the coven, who was she and what did she want? This was almost just as worrisome. He shrugged it off—if it was fated that they met, there was no point in fretting until then, was there?
There was a whistle from the school-ward end of the field. Class was over, it was time for lunch—and he was as far form the doors as he could be. Lovely.
---
Noon
I think you should have a chat with the janitor.
Startled to his senses, Aaron whirled around with sudden, cat-like quickness. There was no one there. Did he drift off? Surely nothing could have snuck up on him without his notice, and here was the proof—there was nothing. Clearly his mind had wandered, considering the previous night’s events, and he had imagined he had heard some one talking to him. What did he imagine it said again? It was vague . . . something about a janitor?
The janitor. The new one that started last week. You should have a chat with him.
Aaron pulled another about-face. ‘Mr. Avalon’ was on lunch duty, and was watching the children as they ran amok over the playground and field. He was alone where he stood.
You performed exceedingly well. This is just my own way of repaying you—beyond the monetary. Thanks to you, I may go to my rest.
Aaron turned around again, the voice clearly coming from behind him this time, and saw her. Colourless and faded as if she were but a figment of the imagination, she stood before him wearing what appeared to be a hospital gown.
He didn’t have a chance to respond, however, as she faded away immediately into nothing. He glanced about himself, and determined that apparently no one had noticed anything stranger than a teacher’s apparent freak out. Perhaps he should have called in ill today, and taken time to recover from whatever that was last night.
But her words were not simply the product of some passing fancy. He knew the janitor the apparition had spoken of—every time they passed in the halls it felt like he was being watched. At first he thought the man merely an odd duck, but he was beginning to reconsider this position.
The bell rang. Mr. Avalon had a prep-period after lunch on Tuesdays. He decided he would indeed go have a chat with the fellow, see what came of it. His hands were tied as far as old-fashioned troubleshooting went while under the guise of this persona, but surely a simple chat wouldn’t have to go there by necessity.
He paid a quick visit to the janitors’ office and made a harmless inquiry as to the location of this fellow. A quick search through his last weeks’ memories turned up a last name: Smith.
Mr. Smith was supposed to be cleaning the washrooms in the east wing. Aaron quickly made his way there and spied the cleaning cart just outside the closed door of the boys’ washroom at the far end of the first floor. Perfect.
He pushed the door open with a light mechanical squeal and caught it before it thumped shut behind him. The washroom was small—a pair of stalls and a pair of urinals around a wing wall, and three sinks on the one side.
“Hello? I’m busy right now, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” He glanced back and did a double take when he saw Aaron.
“Eh—can I help you, sir?” His eyes were inscrutable, but subtle details about his body language belied a quiet alarm at this particular intruder.
Now that he was looking, Aaron could see a certain sense of awareness in this man, some kind of nerve in him different from the average janitor—if he had to use a cliché, he would say the man was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
---
Afternoon
Rebecca looked at the sketch she had made, visualizing what it might look like painted according to the colouring notes running along the side—mostly black and shades of grey. Instead what she got the scene on the second floor from last night in her mind’s eye.
“Feh.” With a sigh she dug into her bag for her lighter and lit up a smoke. It was quite a pleasant day, she had to conclude. The torrential rain of the last few days left every living thing charged with energy as it came out of hiding to spring up in the sun’s invigorating rays.
There was a brief moment where her spirits elated to the point that the vestiges of a smile almost build up the courage to play across her face—though she’d never willingly admit it. The chirpiness of the moment was almost sickening.
Everything went dark—there were hands over her eyes.
“Guess who?”
“Reasonable motive at an upcoming murder trial,” she responded, going for deadpan put unable to keep the cheer entirely out of her voice.
Jessie laughed freely and released her, dropping his heavy, textbook-laden bag onto the U of A park bench next to her. She killed the barely used cigarette and replaced it in the package. He peered over her shoulder at her sketchbook.
“You drawing our friend with the El Dorado longcoat from last night? Is it just me or didn’t he look like Keanu Reeves from that Matrix movie that came out a few months ago?”
Before Rebecca could stop herself, she saw the assassin ‘knowing kung fu’. The absurdity of the very idea was too much. She cracked, releasing a short snort of mirth. She tried to regain composure, but it was too late, the façade of aloofness was shattered—Jessie won again.
“You’re delusional,” she told him.
How he could always joke about such things was well beyond her, though sometimes, in rare moments like these, she had to admit it wasn’t even particularly annoying.
“You’re right, of course—what was his name again? Smith?” She refused him the satisfaction.
“Eh, one out of two isn’t so bad. So do you know what we’re doing for the solstice?” he went on, unflappable
“Joan says if nothing big comes up, we should try to make another vessel so that we could each have one. Also she says she thinks that the fiend spirit could still be out there, and it might still be following orders to hunt us down, so be careful. If we can get a hold of the others, she says we may try to hunt it down and banish it.”
Jessie let out a greatly put-upon sigh with a smile. “And here I thought I might be enjoying my summer too much already—we’ve been out, what, a month? Naught but a single cult and a dozen rumours? Oh, how we have lazed!”
---
After School
Guy twiddled his thumbs as he waited for the computer to go through its great screeching act as it dialled into the internet. He was manning his usual post an the computers in the public library on his way home from school—his second best source of information.
First thing he did was look up a list of post secondary institutes in Adelaide. His guidance councillor would be proud, he thought. There was, of course, the Great Lakes University, Manitou Island College, the University of Adelaide, and the Northern Michigan Lakeview Institute, and a great list of a great many more.
That didn’t turn out so well—he’d no idea there were so many of these things just lying all over the place. He could go on to rule out those without some form of medical program, that might thin the herd, but he didn’t foresee that coming to much use.
Guy was just contemplating what kind of horror show he would get for a parks search when a woman addressed him.
“Excuse me, Guy, is anyone using this computer?”
“Oh, no,” he said automatically. That was a very strange way to use the word ‘guy’ he thought. Come to think of it, the way she said it didn’t seem to suggest that she was using it as a word so much as a name. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and for a second his blood froze in its veins.
This was the same woman from P.E. earlier today! Either she hadn’t recognised him—which bordered on impossible, what with his unique tattoos—or was purposely not looking at him just now.
(Heh, when I was originally planning for this section, I had imagined that I would be able to relay back and forth short snippets as characters respond to each other with shortish lines of dialogue accompanied by a bit about the character's thoughts and reaction, but here I am about to dive into some two-to-three short essays. I'll do my best, but I just might not have the chance to be checking for updates some days  )
Posted on 2011-02-09 at 10:54:52.
Edited on 2011-02-10 at 01:54:41 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: The Wizards' Duel
Subject: I can't let you use that, Celeste
I am overzealous Copyright Law that revokes your privileges to that particular gimmick.
Posted on 2011-02-07 at 08:42:03.
Edited on 2011-02-07 at 08:42:38 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: Happy Birthday, Merideth!!
Subject: A little late to the party almost?
It doesn't count until the sun rises.... here.
As it is, it's 4 am here and the dawn is still hanging around over the bare eastern tip, so I'm good yet.
Happy Birthday Meri! Hope you had a good 'un.
Posted on 2011-02-04 at 11:00:25.
|
Topic: Welcome to our newest Innmate!
Subject: Ensuring the future of the Race
Congratulations on spawning yet another to join the ranks of the next wave in gamer babies!
Of course, you realize this also serves to advance your skill and power... after all, the only thing stronger and scarier than any given creature is the mother of aforementioned creature. It's the rigours of motherhood that does it 
Don't forget to think of us in those little moments around 3am when the baby has decided that lunchtime would be a splendid idea, or he feels that his territory has not yet been sufficiently marked.
Gratz 
Posted on 2010-12-13 at 22:11:19.
|
Topic: Q&A: The Day They Woke Up on the Wrong Side of Reality
Subject: Next post? Never!
You know, I guess I completely forgot about my Q&A (namely that people might actually use it). I had no idea this discussion was here =P I was wondering if the random scene had reaction from my players whatsoever.
Posted on 2010-11-28 at 20:11:07.
|
Topic: Chapter 2, Cover
Subject: That
That is glorious. 
Posted on 2010-11-27 at 21:37:40.
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Chapter 1 Close
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
Few minutes after midnight - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
The three stared at Aaron’s body. Joan glanced to the card that he had given her. It was a plain black card with cursive white print: Aaron Smith – Contract Termination Services, followed by a number and an e-mail address.
The blond boy spoke first: “Ouch.” The group let out a collective breath, their shaking nerves beginning to return to normal.
“Jessie—,” Joan began.
“I’m on it. I’ve been holding enough energy to make it rain up since we first got down here.” The blond boy, Jessie, turned over the hitman’s body carefully, inspecting the severity of the wound and—more importantly—making absolutely undoubtedly certain beyond question that there wasn’t a chance the man was less than completely unconscious.
“Breathing’s shallow—he might have punctured a lung. Christ, this is a bad cut—you say their summoned spirit got him?” He rubbed his hands together, then held them, palm down, over Aaron’s chest.
“Physika Haella” he intoned. A blue-white light outlined his palms and danced over the hitman’s chest, burrowing deep into his ribcage. Instantly fractured ribs fused whole and parted flesh sealed, knitting back together at an amazing speed.
When it was done, the glow faded and Jessie let out an exhausted sigh. Between the tatters of his shirt, the flesh over Aaron’s chest was whole and unscarred. The hitman took a deep breath, but lay still, his breathing now regular.
“His body will be exhausted from the rapid healing process, but he should wake up soon enough. A wound like that would have left a lesser man on the edge of death. As it is, he is extremely tough. I think if we hadn’t been here, he still would have survived—in pain, but alive.”
The girl called ‘Maud’, Rebecca, took the hitman’s business card from Joan and looked it over. “Looks like my suspicions were right after all,” she said, “He’s a killer for hire—that would be enough to have attracted the Spectre that hangs in his shadow.”
“Sounds creepy,” Jessie remarked, “like an invisible stalker living in your shadow.”
“Well, the Spectre isn’t actually a sentient spirit—more like residual energy than anything. Anyway, we should get going before he wakes up at decides to try to kill us again.” They turned to their leader, scribbling on a small white card.
Rebecca was the first to realize what she was doing. “What are you thinking?”
“I have a feeling. This will not be the last time we run into ‘Mr. Smith’, I think. It would be better if we made as many allies as possible for the times to come.”
“But—,” Jessie protested, “—he tried to kill us tonight!”
“You said yourself that for all we knew this could just be a small fluctuation in supernatural activity, that any number of things could be behind it, that it might just mean more people are reporting attacks than before.”
“I never said it was a logical intuition, just that I had a feeling, and I’ve learned to trust my foresights.” She turned to Rebecca. “As for that, I’m beginning to think I was wrong. Damien says the Rosicrucians are seeing ever more events crop up, and we still don’t know what happened to Rachelle’s coven. I think we should be very cautious, and start gathering as many resources as we can—.” She placed the business card on Aaron’s chest. “—Despite what we may think of them.”
Joan took back the vessel ring and tapped into its energy to ignite a small flame in the palm of her hand to light the way out, leaving the hitman to return to his senses.
On their way to their car, parked innocuously the next block over, they did not notice Guy boarding the Number 13 back home.
True to her prediction, Lily was scolded for staying out so late on the night of the full moon, but mostly Mrs. Vritova was simply glad that she made it home alright.
Guy rolled in close to 12:40am without comment from either of his foster parents. He went up to his room and tried another Reading but didn’t get anything for his efforts. Finally, he called it a night and went to bed—there was school tomorrow, after all.
Within a few minutes of the witches’ departure Aaron came to, feeling infinitely better than he had when he went out. He was cold, but alive and in one piece. He noticed something on his chest and picked up Joan’s business card. He quirked an eyebrow at the business description, Magical and Paranormal Consulting and flipped it over. On the back in black handwriting she left a message for him—Give a call if you ever have questions or need info on supernatural phenomena.
Aaron was too tired to feel particularly strongly one way or the other about the card right now. He picked up his hat and shook it off and set it on his head, quietly reveling in the lack of pain, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
He waded his way through the blood and the corpses in the lobby and left through the main entrance. Within moments he was roaring through the night back to his dwelling. Once home he wasted little time getting to sleep. After all—there was school tomorrow.
Aaron Full Life (+20 healed) ----- -20 Endurance (-20 healing rigours) ----- -4/-4//-2 Gun Cap
(I should mention that I never kept track of Endurance loss for close combat, but that's okay--no one experienced so much that it would have made a difference.)
(Also, besides comments and narrating specific closing actions, no one really has to do anything until I start up the next chapter, unless you want to be really on the ball and describe the 'morning after' of your character's thoughts on the matter. Remember I'm still on essays--the temptation to get this wrapped up was too great to resist, but I still have mucha tarea.)
Posted on 2010-11-11 at 06:29:10.
Edited on 2011-05-15 at 06:16:33 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Aaron gets to live! =3 (and so do all the NPC's, what luck!)
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
Few minutes after midnight - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
The two younger huddled around their leader and almost immediately Aaron heard her hushed voice, “No. You two leave—if I don’t make it I don’t want to take you with me.”
“No, we stand by you. The three minds are better than one.” The boy replied. The girl remained silent.
“Besides, strictly speaking, I don’t think the Hippocratic Oath would let me leave now,” he said in a strained attempt at light-heartedness. The woman returned with a withering look that was somehow both annoyed with their disobedience and grateful for their support.
Normally Aaron tried not to eavesdrop when people were discussing his riddles—it was much more suspenseful when he didn’t already know that they had or hadn’t gotten the answer right before they responded—but one particular remark caught his ear for a second.
“Whatever else this guy is, he’s serious business,” the young dark-haired girl advised in a sombre undertone. “I feel the Spectre of Death following him—if I took a good look I bet I would see it in his shadow.”
The other two nodded gravely, then they began discussing the riddle. Aaron tuned out, puzzled just a bit by her words, but ultimately not very concerned. It was true that death followed him—it rode in his wake with every wrong answer, not even counting those he laid low while in the army.
The group broke. He noted that ultimately the two lived up to their word and remained with their leader. He shrugged to himself. They consigned themselves to one fate, for good or for ill.
“Would the answer to the riddle be… the wind?” The leader responded. The other two remained in a tense silence—the boy had broken out into a light cold sweat, beads forming on his forehead. Hardly a one dared to breathe among them.
Posted on 2010-11-10 at 08:02:26.
Edited on 2010-11-10 at 08:03:03 by Sibelius Eos Owm
|
Topic: Loaded Dice #61: The Final Battle (Part One)
Subject: If everything is going well before the last page of the book: BEWARE
If there's one thing you learn while reading well-written stories, it's that when everything goes smoothly at first, things will turn around at least once, to give the heroes a proper struggle to earn their victory out of.
Also: does anyone else think it amusingly odd that the room Father Frosty was in is lit by torches?
Posted on 2010-11-10 at 04:10:17.
|
Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Are you feeling lucky? Well are you, punk?
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
Few minutes after midnight - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
The woman flexed the fingers of her free hand in a clearly nervous gesture. Already the boy to her right’s hands had started shaking, just slightly, first effects of the adrenaline rush that held him.
It was the woman who had addressed him that he was concerned with, but it didn’t seem like the kids—for though they were only a few years younger than himself and proven mature enough by their relatively calm demeanours, they were still clearly kids.
“Very well,” the woman let out a controlled breath, “how long do we have to discuss our answer?”
~***~
Back in the lobby, Guy crouched down behind the infodesk ring that Flandre had been using for cover earlier.
He could not leave it alone; he had to know more about these three who had showed up without his prior sight. This alone wasn’t exceptionally disturbing—his visions often left out non-important figures. What was frustrating was that he did not know how to react to them, what roles they played in the course of fate, and what he had to do to make sure they got there.
Not usually did individuals take on such an active part in a hunt, so he could not just ignore them as he had other non-players—such as that janitor who happened to distract a monstrous dog just long enough for him to finish it with his telekinesis, he thought, or that one girl whose life he saved, incidentally, while bringing down that killer who used psychic powers like his own to prey on others and cover his tracks. Folk he hadn’t Seen—they were relevant to the situation, yes, but always as people who had merely been caught up in Fate’s tide and reacted as one could otherwise expect, never as active participants who had directly come after the same goal without his knowledge.
If he could just get perhaps a bit of information about their pasts, that would give him the insight he needed to deal with them in the future.
First he saw the girl, Maud, making a rough sketch in a book. He could see quickly that it was a slightly morbid picture of the park she was in, except that all the people passing by were replaced by skeletons dressed in their clothes. On the side there were notes listing what seemed to be paint colours. Hippocrates followed, hunched over an anatomy text book, in an almost amusingly similar scene. From the sound of the vision, he was sitting in some sort of university study hall. His cell rang, and when he checked it Guy could see the caller ID, Joan.
Next the woman, ‘Flandre’ was standing in front of a calendar, on the phone—seemingly the ‘Joan’ from the previous vision. The full moon on the calendar around the 31st of May was circled in black pen.
“Yes, next Monday. I think they’re actually going to try something this time. … No, I haven’t worked out what it means yet. … I am worried. Things are beginning to get out of hand—if this rate keeps up there’ll be nothing we can do. I talked to Damien—he says they haven’t seen this many Events happen so quickly in a long time either. They fear it might mean something. … No, I haven’t heard back from Rachelle’s coven. We may have to go at this alone. … Thanks, I knew I could count on you.”
Thunder crashed in Guy’s ears as he saw the three standing in an alley in a circle. Together they buzzed with energy to his eyes, channelling their combined might. One by one, shields sprung up around them and quickly faded to nigh-invisibility. They traded one last, sombre look, then at Flandre’s command, they moved out.
Guy (stealthily gathering info)
Aaron -20 Life ----- -4/-4//-2 Gun Cap
Lily Full Essence (10 ambient) [Left Scene]
RC Red Hair -1 Gun Cap (-1)
RC Black Hair
RC Blond Hair
Posted on 2010-11-08 at 09:24:44.
|
| |
View/Edit Your Profile | Staff List | Contact Us
Use of the RDINN forums or chatrooms constitutes agreement with our Terms of Service.You must enable cookies and javascript to use all features of this site.
|
|
What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
