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Topic: The Day They Woke Up on the Wrong Side of Reality
Subject: Just a little poke here before I have to get back to my essay.
How to Start a Successful Revolution
Sunday, June 29, 1008 – Late Day
Vulcasa, Corazon
The crowd fell to hushed murmurs for moments after Galen’s reply, apparently thoroughly taken by his reasoning. Inevitably, however, another voice raised its concern.
“Our relationship with the kobolds has never truly been close in the past, and as of recently they have cut off communication, making all the signs of preparing for war. I hear you telling us that this has all been because of the old leader, and I believe you when you say that this assembly will be a step toward resolution, but I have one further question, and answer me truthfully in this: I realize this meeting is intended to be a peaceful gathering, but even still, planning for the worse, how much danger would each man and woman be placing themselves in for attending?”
The man was an older, bald man who seemed to command a small bit of respect above the average. He watched us with his narrow eyes, as if waiting to judge us on our answer.
Posted on 2010-11-08 at 08:02:01.
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: I had no idea he would react so hostilely just over a question
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
Few minutes after midnight - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
“You assume too much, broad, and you are now starting to get on my nerves!” Aaron drew his handguns suddenly.
All three jumped at the sudden threat, alarm in their eyes—the boy half raised his gun and the dark-haired girl brought the barrel of her shotgun up. The red-haired woman who had been leaning against the wall jumped up, but left her gun pointed down.
“I fly with the wings of Hermes, a messenger to the world. I can warn you of the soon-to-be, if you heed my word,” he said, cold fury in his eyes.
“Answer me this riddle correctly, and I will allow your fault to go unnoticed. Answer it wrong, or refuse, and I will deal with you in the same manner as I did the wretch outside.”
“Easy, there’s no reason to fight. I did not mean to offend you,” she said, her tone cautious and diplomatic, “I merely wanted to know if you would like some help. I apologize for anything I might have said to upset you—if it’s alright with you, I’d rather not stay to find out if somebody heard us and called the cops. What do you say?”
The whole team watched Aaron, scarcely breathing as they waited to see if the hitman would insist on getting an answer before anyone left.
Guy [Left Scene moments ago]
Aaron -20 Life ----- -4/-4//-2 Gun Cap
Lily Full Essence (10 ambient) [Left Scene]
RC Red Hair -1 Gun Cap
RC Black Hair
RC Blond Hair
Posted on 2010-11-07 at 06:56:04.
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: Deaths Confirmed, Moving Out
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
Few minutes after midnight - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
“Who the hell are you?” Aaron spat out. Before the woman could respond, he cut her off. “I don’t have time for the likes of you. Get out of my way or take the challenge. I got a kill I need to confirm!”
The red-haired woman who led the raincoat wearing newcomers wrinkled her nose, but stepped out of hitman’s way. Aaron proceeded down the stairs to the second floor before Guy even had a chance to ask his question.
The two on the stairs glanced at Aaron as he passed, then looked to their leader for instruction.
“Keep your shields up. This isn’t over until the leader of their circle has been proven dead. Hip, prepare for a healing spell—use the ring. That man is badly injured, whether he’ll admit it or not.”
She turned to Guy, fatigue beginning to show on her face. “How about you? You want to say hi? It can be tough to face down inhuman monsters without any help—perhaps we can help each other out? I am Flandre, the kids are Hippocrates and Maud—not our real names, obviously. You take precautions where you can.”
---
Aaron climbed easily out one of the windows on the second floor onto the roof of the lobby. Faintly, over the pattering rain, he could hear police sirens. He didn’t know if they were approaching or on some other heading, but nevertheless it would be best to wrap up here quickly and get away.
He remembered where the body should be from where Anderson was when he sniped him. It took only a few seconds to come across the corpse. He kicked it once in the ribs to be sure, and then knelt over to check for a pulse. The body was already cold, due to the rain and there was no discernable pulse.
Roughly he rolled Anderson’s body over onto its back. Aaron grabbed the pentacle around his neck and removed it with a sharp tug. Proof of successful hit acquired. Now it was time to leave.
He turned to go, but a sudden pang in his chest caused him to flinch, briefly. Damn, he must have moved in just such a way that it caused fresh pains to erupt from the constant, manageable pain that his injury was sending to his brain.
When he made it back inside, the group was there again—not obstructing his path, but there. The red-haired woman spoke up.
“That’s quite a shot you made,” she said, nodding at the windows. “At least allow us to offer you a patch-job on that nasty mark you got there—and before you refuse, consider that I don’t think the hospitals will accept ‘attacked by an evil manifested spirit’ as an appropriate explanation, and a scratch like that, not to mention the broken ribs you must be nursing, must take weeks to heal properly. It’ll only be just a second.”
Guy
Aaron -20 Life ----- -4/-4//-2 Gun Cap
Lily Full Life (+12 regen ) ----- Full Essence (+9 regen, 10 ambient) [Left Scene]
RC Red Hair -1 Gun Cap (-1)
RC Black Hair
RC Blond Hair
Marcus Anderson -62 Life (-40 Found Dead) [Dead]
Posted on 2010-10-30 at 08:16:18.
Edited on 2010-11-07 at 06:45:17 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: You'd better watch it, I think
Granted--you have a time machine. Unfortunately it only goes forward in time, and very slowly at that. Too bad. It does have a handy display to show how much progress you've made since the last time you checked. You might want to try taking a nap--I hear those can launch you hours into the future in a single instance.
I wish I could sneak around like a ninja.
Posted on 2010-10-30 at 05:52:39.
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Topic: The Wizards' Duel
Subject: You squishy humans are so fallible
Having morphed back into your squishy human self, I have no end of options on how to shapeshift to defeat you. I elect to become really big, pointy rock falling toward you, covered in slime that is both poisonous and acidic, and laden with a ton of impact-sensitive explosives and a heat-seeking guiding system.
Too much you say? Not when you ask for it =3
Posted on 2010-10-28 at 22:37:49.
Edited on 2010-10-28 at 22:40:29 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: Haiku - Renga Game
Subject: In which further information and the Grugg coexist temporarily for mutual benefit
The gloaming hangs in the air;
No hesitation: take flight.
Alright, now that I have time to post again, I'll finish off what I started. Common rules for renga gatherings include a minimum number of participants, (well, hopefully, for us  ), a minimum number of stanzas between returning to the same topic, reserving certain stanzas for the moon, and others for flowers, one rule that says the word insect may only occur once per hundred verses, and many, many more. Also, traditionally there was no concept of rhyme in Japanese poetry as a whole (indeed, a rhyme, accidental or intentional was considered a fatal flaw to the poem) but in the same vein as the sonnet "If by dull rhymes our english must be chained", we'll stick to freedom of verse.
And to clear up how connections are supposed to be made a bit: the 2-line cap must be connected to the 3-line hokku, but the way it does this is left for the following poster to decide, such as through cause-effect, comparison, contrast, or even linked in surprising or puzzling ways.
On that note, the rules for our game are as follows: Finish the previous hokku with your somehow related cap and then start a new hokku, both with roughly the right number of syllables. (That's it! No crazy insect rules or subject-restrictions! Have fun!)
The wild Grugg hungers.
The scent of crayons lingers:
There will soon be blood.
Posted on 2010-10-28 at 22:18:20.
Edited on 2010-10-28 at 22:22:34 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: Haiku - Renga Game
Subject: Renga, technically
I had a thought--let's revive the haiku game, but using some old favourite posting game tactics. (Okay, what I actually thought is that 'there needs to be a good haiku game on the Inn' then I thought 'wait, I remember there being one--wasn't there?' then I found Fletch's longest haiku ever, and now I am justifying myself with the point--this game is different (really, I swear).
So anyway, I now invite all you Innmates to a rousing game of Renga (I know it says 'Haiku' on the link! Hush! Let me finish!). A renga (linked poem, in Japanese) is a long poem composed of varying numbers of verses called tanka (ancestor to the modern haiku). A tanka is composed of five lines, following the syllable count
5-7-5-7-7
(you can see how the haiku originated from that, I imagine).
Now, the magic starts when the rules for this game were made up in medieval Japan. There are a fair number of rules (i.e. how many lines must exist between recurrences of a topic, etc.) and it is generally found to be easier with fewer rules, but for now the most important rule is how to play: Each person begins a stanza, completing a typical haiku of 5-7-5, then the next person finishes it (with opportunity for mischeif, wit, sagacity, and more between) with the 7-7 line, before beginning their own.
I don't think there are any rules for unruly punctuation in the previous line, so if you can't work around the fact that some one put a period where you want to continue on, let your good judgement and the potential smites be your guide. (Oh, and for your own mid-line punctuation, you can enjamb to your heart's content, running sentences over line ends without stopping each line with a comma or period.)
To begin us off:
I write a tanka for you;
A demonstration.
Now you understand this game,
Why haven't you started yet?
--
The graceful cat soars
Over the slick countertop:
The garbage can rings.
Posted on 2010-10-28 at 17:56:54.
Edited on 2011-06-12 at 07:57:30 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The Wizards' Duel
Subject: Oops
I am aerodynamic physics operating in conjunction with Newton's Third Law, which points out that the force of the fan blowing the clouds away has an equal and opposite force on the helicopter, throwing it for a loop or three. (oh, since you are specifically the fan, I should point out that the fan is in immanent danger of being smashed against the ground when the chopper crashes)
PS: 777th post
Posted on 2010-10-28 at 02:20:50.
Edited on 2011-06-12 at 08:00:15 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The day I was born ###,### people died.
Subject: I rank a fair number
146,819 People
I wonder if any of them knew what their noble sacrifice was for? 
Posted on 2010-10-25 at 20:30:48.
Edited on 2010-10-25 at 20:31:26 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The Day They Woke Up on the Wrong Side of Reality
Subject: What took so long is that I had a couple of essays spring up before I was finished.
How to Start a Successful Revolution
Sunday, June 29, 1008 – Late Day
Vulcasa, Corazon
We all mutely agreed with Ray’s assessment to seek a little privacy before thrusting these new developments onto the town folk. Ryuunosuke informed the crowd that information would be forthcoming after a brief meeting and together we stepped into the inn, taking the table in the corner we had at lunch.
Ray told the story, with us adding details to fill in explanations—the role of Sakamoto’s last hirelings in the assassination, how we managed to enter in the first place, who the heck were the three enthusiastic visitors who were travelling with us and other such minutiae.
Ryu made a steeple out of his fingertips as he pondered the situation.
“I agree with this Arirthosvutha you speak of—there can be no peace between the two peoples of this valley if no attempt at communication is made. He speaks wisely. He should make a good leader perhaps—or at least a better one than the petisse had before.
“If you want my council, I would advise that we take the opportunity presented to us at the door and use the people gathered here to spread this news quickly throughout the town. I have decided that I will help you in this matter, but you will have to fill in the details where I cannot.
“After we address the crowd out front, I suggest we take the rest of the evening to spread the word as far as possible. Any who would like to participate in the assembly will let me know and will gather by this inn when the day comes.”
(Theoretically, discussion is open to comment or disagree, but realistically, if anyone had a good plan for what to do now, we wouldn’t have been waiting on Ryu’s advice for the last three weeks =3 Assuming agreement for now)
“Now, if there is nothing else to add, our audience awaits. I will explain things to them—the name of Sakamoto is well known in these lands. That should at least buy us some consideration, but, ultimately, you are the ambassadors and you will have to answer to any concerns that arise.”
---
Ryu delivered a concise briefing to the crowd, explaining recent events and the reason for the kobolds’ actions. He filled them in on Irthos’ plans to restore peace between their peoples and communicated the invitation for a group to join the kobolds for an assembly as a show of support, adding his personal agreement to the plan.
The crowd broke off to talk amongst themselves, then a voice rose up and the rest quieted down.
“What if the party is attacked by the rogue kobolds? How will they defend themselves?” asked one droopy-moustached man.
“Well, the ambassadors will be armed, of course—to make sure neither party breaks the agreement.” cried a reply before we had our chance.
“Okay,” a third voice, belonging to an older man spoke up, “but why should we go unarmed into the kobolds’ town, then? Why shouldn’t we make sure we are protected while we’re inside?”
This time no fast and easy answer was given for us. All eyes turned on us, waiting for us to provide insight or rebuttal to the question.
(Okay, I am sort of forcing you to actually participate in a roleplaying encounter for now. Whoever answers first can do so to the best of their ability. Anyone who would like to add further comment can pop in quickly after the first. If you’re thinking about answering, but don’t know if someone else is already planning, shoot gestures and body language at each other via e-mail or PM until someone agrees to talk. If it matters to anyone, the group is some 30-40 strong, about the size of a large classroom, most older than us, but a few younger men and women.)
Posted on 2010-10-24 at 07:40:50.
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that even hero characters are vulnerable to ph
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
12:03 - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
The grey fox returned to an entirely bestial form, shifting with dream-like fluidity. It stood over the cultist’s body and seemed to shake its head in a very human gesture. The supernatural animal remained still for another breath, then, as Guy watched, its fur blurred and shifted to match the colour of the hallway around it, rendering it close to invisible in the darkness. Evidently it would not be joining them for crumpets and tea after all was said and done.
The teenager let a brief, relieved laugh past his lips. He turned to the other three, the ones who had come in unannounced. The young woman with the black hair came up on his right, shotgun at rest. She nodded at him and stepped past, moving over to the man who had been brought down. Her brow furrowed in concentration for a moment, and Guy felt the energy around her discharge. Almost at the same time, the cultist gasped suddenly, twitched, then fell still again.
The red-head and the blond boy came out from behind the info helpdesk and approached Guy, both of their weapons held down as well.
“So, where you headed now?” Guy asked the raincoats.
Their apparent leader, the red-haired woman with the glasses responded. “The man in the basement said that the leader of this cult is probably hiding upstairs. That guy with the sniper rifle seemed capable enough, but he probably has no idea what he’s facing. We’re going up to make sure this Mr. Anderson doesn’t get away. You in? You seem to have an idea what you’re doing—we could use your skills.”
The girl gave the boy a ring and he held his hands out toward her. He murmured something unintelligible and the both briefly gasped as blue sparks danced over her legs and feet.
“Better?” he asked.
“Idiot—you should have done yourself first. Now you’ll have to wait to gather more power,” she replied with equal parts concern and exasperation.
“Aww, No points for chivalry?” he joked through gritted teeth, unsuccessfully feigning affability in spite of the circumstances.
~***~
It had taken two tries and some calming breaths, but no one saw Lily slip out of the old abandoned hospital into the night—or at least she didn’t think anyone saw; that Indian boy had very keen vision. The rain had reduced to an earnest shower from the torrential pounding earlier. The wind still kicked up in her face every now and again, but mostly maintained a low gust.
Lily tried to keep to the shadows and stay completely out of sight, but the bullets buried in her hide still pained her greatly, and she may not have been as careful as she hoped. At one point she had to wait in the shadows as a pit bull ran passed her, but she reached the alley where she stowed her stuff without further harassment.
A small stream flowed along the centre of the alley down toward a gutter, but the sheltered location where she hid her clothes and masks remained above water level. As she padded up to her clothes, the last and deepest lodged bullet dropped out onto the concrete, the wound beginning to disappear. In another moment she would be completely uninjured again—an effect of her nature that she had previously only had fairly limited experience with, amounting for the most part to minor cuts and bruises.
~***~
The reverberating roar of the rifle round died slowly over the next few seconds as Aaron waited for signs that his target was still alive. There was a brief moment of stunned silence, then a clear, audible curse.
“Puny, pathetic philistine! Do you not yet get that you are but a mere mortal playing on the level of the gods!? Your antics amuse, but nothing more, and now the high ones have grown weary of you. As Apollo decreed at Delphi, ‘Know thyself’, mortal!”
Aaron heard these ravings as he reloaded his rifle. He had scared the man, he observed, judging by the sudden surge of aggression and the slight waiver in his voice. Not enough to force him to actually trigger a sudden flight away, however—indeed Anderson seemed convinced enough of his own superiority that the close call hadn’t seemed to impinge on his resolve at all.
But, again, it was true that the shot had seemed a close call, and thus another, better placed shot may punch through where the previous two hadn’t. Aaron had no idea what kind of force the man was employing to deflect bullets out of the air, but he had at least the suspicion that it was not impenetrable.
Aaron Smith stepped out into the corridor again, rifle raised to do some damage, but he quickly identified something was wrong.
“Invocare Ignis!”
The flicker of orange that betrayed itself to Aaron grew and swelled in a blink and burst toward him as a great ball of flame. He barely had the time to throw himself to the ground as the meteor soared over his head, the heat rolling off of it sharp on the back of his neck. It continued past him and met with the wall and dissipated.
After the attack had passed, Aaron wasted little time. Laying on his stomach he pointed up at the figure of his mark, embers still dancing in the air around him. He held steady for a heartbeat to make sure his aim was true and squeezed the trigger.
The rifle roared like a shorter, sharper peal of thunder like what had been filling the skies all afternoon. In the whitish shield flare, Aaron could see Anderson stumble back with a cry. The force field robbed the bullet of much of its momentum—that much he knew already anyway but was proven again—but it had penetrated, striking the man presumably in the abdomen.
He didn’t waste time on congratulating himself, however. If the bullet had done its job properly, there wouldn’t have even been enough time for a cry of pain from the target. He would consider it a non-fatal shot until the corpse proved him wrong in person.
“Invocare Ignis.” The tone of the incantation was substantially different from the angry, arrogant voice a moment before. Aaron rolled aside a much smaller fireball as it struck the ground near where he was laying.
~***~
(Room remains for chatting with the NPCs, I just felt the initiative to wrap things up and fill in the details after)
Guy and the two women stepped into the stairwell, followed by the young man in back.
“Let’s make this easier on us, shall we?” The leader turned to Guy, “You have the powers of premonition, too, am I right? We can combine our strength to determine which way they went.”
Another with the gift? She did not seem to act as an agent of Fate, but having the power to glimpse scenes from beyond her own time was interesting enough. He did not have time to consider the implications or if those implications even meant anything, though. He nodded and invited her to lead.
“We’re going to try to see the path taken by the cult leader and the hitman just earlier. Simply focus on that and I will do the same—our minds will work in concert and between the two of us we should get a good idea of what happened.”
Guy looked at the stairs and focused his mind. Instead of reaching ahead to look at the next page in Fate’s great tome, however, he looked to see what had been written while he was elsewhere.
He felt the woman’s strength adding onto his own, clarifying the picture. He had never used his powers in this way before, so he hadn’t realized that he had actually taken over until he heard the woman draw in a sudden startled breath.
The cult leader, Marcus Anderson paused while his flock scrambled mindlessly on. Without a word he turned and ran up the next flight of stairs, then the next, to the third floor. The vision followed him as he glanced backward once, and then pushed through the creaking door of the third floor.
The vision skipped, then the tall, black figure of the hitman appeared, running up to the second floor, testing the door, then moving onto the third and entering.
The vision ended and the woman shook her head. “You are strong in the ways of the Sight, child,” she said. “Come, let’s get going—we know the hitman found him, but we don’t know if he was successful, yet.” Lightning flashed in the lobby behind them, and thunder roared overhead.
~***~
Aaron tugged on the bolt handle and discharged the old round, loading a new one. Before he could take sufficient aim, however, he saw Anderson’s silhouette climbing onto the window in the in the meagre light cast up by the streetlamps.
The man had lost it! Aaron quickly adjusted his aim but not before his target took flight.
With a protest from his chest, Aaron leapt to his feet and ran to the line of windows, looking down into the pitch black roof of the hospital’s lobby.
He searched the shadows, rifle at the ready, but not even his superhuman vision could detect anything that would reveal whether Anderson had lived or died from the fall.
Aaron held vigil, growing steadily more infuriated with the situation when another of the errant bolts that populated the sky struck overhead, throwing brilliant light onto the hospital. On the roof, stumbling away, Aaron saw the image of the hunched Mr. Anderson.
The light from the bolt faded, but it had done enough. Aaron aimed for the spot where he spied Anderson, leading him by a couple feet not to account for speed, but for how much he moved in the last seconds of his life.
The rifle roared into the night for the third time, resounding at the same time the thunderclap from the bolt rolled through. There was another flare of Anderson’s shield—the target was struck, all that remained to be seen was whether or not it had been a killing blow.
Aaron could barely keep himself from spreading a satisfied grin across his face. It had been a very interesting hunt. Whether or not he would reap the spoils, however, depended still on finding and retrieving the pentacle from the body, provided that there was one. He didn’t let this slight doubt ruin his satisfaction, though.
Bullet-deflecting shields aside, there was a limit to how much one man could take before going down. Aaron was near the top of this range, and he presumed Anderson would not be in nearly as good of a condition. Between the abdomen shot, the fall, and the last shot, he was expecting to find a corpse when he got down there. Nevertheless, he would not assume that the mark was dead until he could see it with his own eyes.
Even though the fall had not killed Mr. Anderson, evidently, falls were capricious things and he did not trust to make it down in similar order. Besides, the broken ribs courtesy of that demon-thing in the basement were souvenir enough in the interesting injury department, he decided, stowing his rifle over his shoulder. The second floor windows would do nicely.
As he was getting back to the stairwell where he left the appropriated torch the leader of the raincoats was just coming through the door with the Indian boy right behind her. She recoiled briefly, though she didn’t startle any more than that.
Guy Full Life (+8 say thank you) ----- Full Essence (+4 regen)
Aaron -20 Life ----- -4/-4 /-2 Gun Cap (-1 sniper)
Lily -12 Life (+48 regen [1 min]) ----- -9 Essence (-5 failed attempt, -5 camo, +4 regen, 10 in use, 10 ambient)
RC Red Hair -1 Gun Cap (-1)
RC Black Hair Full Life (+8 healed)
RC Blond Hair Full Life (+8 ")
Gunner1 -14 Life () ----- -3 Gun Cap ----- [Not Dead but Out]
Gunner2 -40 Life (-40 shot in the back) [Dead] ----- Full Gun Cap
Gunner3 (disarmed) [Fled]
Knife -56 Life () [Dead]
Fist1 [OMGWTF Gone]
Fist2 [OMGWTF Gone]
Baseball Cap -41 Life (-2 soul poke) [Dead]
Marcus Anderson -12+ Life (-12 gutsniped, -? Fall, -? sniped)
Tokers1-3 [Fled]
OD [Dead]
Wardmaster [Dying-Dead]
(If you’re wondering about the recovery rates posted, note that Lily has run on ahead a minute)
(Now maybe onto a little of the other thing that makes WC an awesome game--ample roleplaying set-up due to mandatory characterization during creation. Have fun and chat (or have fun and don't chat... don't worry if your character doesn't want to talk right now, there is more in Act 2))
Posted on 2010-10-13 at 08:14:46.
Edited on 2010-10-14 at 16:52:55 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: In a santa-hat with a jack-o-lantern bob, bearing a pair of mugs and assorted turkey feathers
Granted! Be that as it may, candy, turkey, milk, cookies, and all sorts of alcoholic beverages make Grugg really gassy, so whether or not you actually take him depends entirely on the length of time you can hold your breath in one go.
I wish I knew the reason behind these infrequent power outages--not due to irritation so much as curiosity.
Posted on 2010-10-05 at 01:10:41.
Edited on 2010-10-05 at 01:11:22 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The Wizards' Duel
Subject: For want of a nail
I am the ladder that wasn't there, preventing the dwarves from climbing up to the battlefield and therefore stopping them from mustering in force.
Posted on 2010-10-05 at 00:59:42.
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Topic: Demonic Vending Machine
Subject: Bamboo Eat Your Seed Out--We'll do you one faster
The Machine doesn't 'spit' out anything so much as out rockets a peach tree growing like caffeinated, greased lightning, the force of which knocks the vending machine onto its back. The tree, standing straight up now, goes through multiple seasons' worth of harvest within a few minutes, showering the surrounding area in a small mountain of fruit. Finally, with a massive crack and a groan, the bare tree is dragged back within the vending machine, branches being forced together as they are sucked forcefully through the slot.
After the last branch at the top of the tree vanishes within the portal of demonic oblivion, it issues an exceptionally impolite belch in classic comedy style.
If anyone wishes to sample one of the peaches, it tastes normal, but with an odd undercurrent of sweetened coffee. It has the same awakening effects as one cup in addition to acting as a potion of Cat's Grace.
Note: Yeah, I fed it the tree, even though it did all the work.
Posted on 2010-10-03 at 20:29:37.
Edited on 2010-10-03 at 21:26:22 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: It’s useless—your fancy pants powers can’t save you now, Mr. Anderson
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
12:02 - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
Aaron ignored his target’s taunts as the mindless gibbering sometimes emitted from cornered prey and focused instead on the direction the voice was coming from. It could hardly be soon enough that he was looking down over the man’s cooling corpse.
The hitman slid up to the corner stealthily and took a peek down the hall. The heavy clouds of the storm still obscured the full moon and precious little else existed as a light source. Even his superior vision struggled pierce the darkness and failed to discern any sign of his prey.
Though as for that, Aaron knew the man was just down there somewhere, judging by the direction of the sound of his voice, he merely needed to provoke him into giving away his position and distract him from whatever it was he was planning.
The thrown gun trick wouldn’t likely work a second time and besides which, it would be far too subtle for the effect he was trying to achieve.
He ducked back behind the cover of the corner and drew one of his pistols with his left hand, then, after a beat of silence, leapt out of cover and shot down the length of the hallway.
There was movement and cursing at the other end of the hall as Mr. Anderson dove to the floor out of gut reflex. There was only a vague shadowy motion, but it was enough for Aaron to make an educated guess.
He tossed the handgun aside, taking his sniper in both hands, pointed, braced himself, and fired.
There was a pronounced, drawn-out supersonic roar followed immediately by a dim flash further down the hall. Aaron had to step back to keep his balance, then leapt for cover behind the opposite corner before he could assess the damage, if indeed there was any.
Almost as an afterthought he slid his handgun to a secure spot behind the cover from where it landed.
~***~
Lily rounded her sly, narrow fox eyes on the woman with the gun pointed at her. The woman stepped back as she aimed, her eyes wild and her lips parted wide in a drug-maddened grin that bordered on feral.
The great red-stained and grey fox coiled to leap at the woman’s gun arm to try to pin the weapon just as a loud shot rang out, but no hot sting of lead came. Instead, the woman screamed in bloody pain, even through her toothy, wild-eyed grin, arching her body over backwards.
The final gunner fell to her knees and then collapsed back from there. Over her body Lily could see the striking silver eyes of the red-haired woman behind the helpdesk, holding her pistol in two hands, still pointed at the cultist woman.
The animal spirit conjoined with Lily’s at birth that made up her more instinctual, impulsive side was mildly disappointed at being deprived the chance to repay the woman’s insult with injury, but she didn’t dwell on it. She whirled around to face the fire-thrower to finish what she had started.
He took a few uncertain steps back, realization of his situation beginning to catch to him.
“Damnable cur! Flamas!” he growled, throwing a column of flames at Lily, licks and sparks dancing in the air around him from barely controlled energy. The werefox transitioned smoothly from all fours to a hand spring as the heat washed through the spot she had been standing in a moment before.
Lily landed on her hind legs right next to the man. She could smell the fear well up in him and rippling through his personal qi. He turned to bolt, but he had hardly taken a step when Lily’s clawed hand caught him by the shoulder, dragging him back and throwing him to the ground with a strangled gasp.
She dropped onto the man and sank her narrowly spaced teeth into his collar and tore into the area between his neck and shoulder, the iron tang of blood filling her mouth.
His eyes glazed over and he fell limp, still breathing shallowly. The stresses on his body overwhelmed him and forced him into unconsciousness.
Guy appeared at the entrance to the hall behind Lily, his own eyes alight with silvery energy. The Indian-Native-American boy’s eyes darted from shadow to shadow, looking for more hostile foes to smite down but found none—conscious at least.
The fox, though its fur was matted with copious amounts of blood, was alright, standing over the two hold-out cultists as they bled out onto the linoleum tiled floor of the hospital.
Guy let out a slow breath, steadying his nerves. He had complete faith that everything would turn out as it was meant, but nevertheless, it was hard to deny hundreds of years of survival instinct.
Something stirred behind Guy—the woman who had gone down after the chair impact. He did not jump at the motion, his mind’s eye showing him before she could even surrender that she was getting up slowly and peaceably.
“You said you would let me go if I surrendered,” She stated cautiously, directed at the leader of the raincoat triad.
The red-haired woman nodded. “Not to tell you what to do with your life, but perhaps you had best stay away from such groups in the future.”
The woman said nothing, submissively retrieving her revolver and heading out into the rain and the night, cradling her right side.
Guy -8 Life ----- -4 Essence
---Precognition 2/2 rounds
Aaron -20 Life ----- -4/-4 /-1 Gun Cap (-1 left, -1 sniper)
Lily -60 Life (+8 regen) ----- -3 Essence (10 in use, 10 ambient)
RC Red Hair -1 Gun Cap (-1)
---Precognition 2/2 rounds
RC Black Hair -8 Life ()
RC Blond Hair -8 Life ()
Gunner1 -14 Life () ----- -3 Gun Cap ----- Not Dead but Out
Gunner2 -40 Life (-40 shot in the back) Dead probably ----- Full Gun Cap
Gunner3 (disarmed) Fleeing
Knife -56 Life () [Probably Dead]
Fist1 OMGWTF Gone
Fist2 OMGWTF Gone
Baseball Cap -39 Life (-24 savaged trapezium) Unconscious and bleeding out
Marcus Anderson (shield flare)
Posted on 2010-10-01 at 08:19:43.
Edited on 2010-10-01 at 08:21:17 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The Day They Woke Up on the Wrong Side of Reality
Subject: The Game's Afoot, Not Anelbow!
Returning to Town
Sunday, June 29, 1008
Vulcasa, Corazon
We arrived at the southern gates to Vulcasa late in the afternoon. The sentry at the gates was different from the one we passed earlier, he was a younger man. He shot us a perplexed look when he spotted us coming up the road, as if he couldn’t figure out how we’d managed the trick of showing up on the wrong side of the gate.
“’Allo there, who approaches?” he called out to us.
“We’re the group that went to visit the Ixenedar colony earlier this afternoon, we’re just returning now.”
“Ah, yeah, I remember now. Geth mentioned about you comin’ back,” the young man nodded. “What about them? Who’re they?” he asked, pointing at the three kobolds.
“Gem Traders from Ixenedar, here to sell their wares,” we responded. The leading trader quickly leapt to his feet, standing tall for his prepared speech. It probably didn’t help the air of prestige he was trying to affect that between Galen and I sitting on either side he was still shorter, but you had to give him points for attitude.
“I am Achuak Sverngethri-tur, master gem merchant of the Ixenedar, and these are my companions. We seek a receptive market to display our wares; we bring many good quality gems for trade. Do you grant us entry?”
“I—uh,” the man didn’t know what to say. “Do you agree to be subject to the King’s Law and the consequences of failing to do so?”
“We do.”
“Alright then, I guess there’s no reason not to. Welcome to Vulcasa, merchants—and welcome back, ambassadors.” The gates were opened and we rode on through the streets back to the hostel.
As we clattered up the street, a few people here and there looked up at us, noting our passage before going back to work. Before long we began to notice that we had managed to attract a small following, which then provoked yet more curious villagers to follow to see where people were going.
By the time we had reached our hostel, there was a small crowd watching from a curious distance. Ryu greeted us out front as we made for the stables.
“Do I take it your endeavour was successful?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So what’s the story? I have a feeling you will have an attentive audience—unless you’d rather share in private, first.”
(It's rather late, and I wasn't entirely sure about the completion of this post. Let me know if I'm missing broad stretches of important information or if it seems rushed [the showing up suddenly back in town was intentional, though the sudden crowd of villagers wasn't planned for--it just kind of happened when I realized it would be inevitable])
Posted on 2010-09-23 at 07:41:49.
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: The Combatants Brace Themselves for the Bitter End--and they don't mean the sea.
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
12:02 - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
Guy cursed and ducked back down the stairs a few steps. From here he could still see the first floor through the railing, but he wasn’t immediately in the line of fire for another attack.
He pushed the thoughts of the scalding pain and the care he would have to take to hide it out of his mind. With practiced ease Guy brought his mind to a stable centre, a place from which he could broaden his thoughts and harness his talents.
As he had so many times already that evening, Guy opened his mind’s eye toward the future, but this time he used his power of foresight to continuously look scarcely a few seconds into the future, perceiving the result of every motion as it happened.
His defences prepared, the young seer cast about for a new weapon, preferring something with a moderate heft that he could move quickly to send flying at the fire-starter and his minion as soon as they reappeared. The lobby was mostly empty, but as he looked over the dark shapes of the cafeteria below, his keen eyes fixed on a table and a few chairs.
He reached out with his mind and scooped up the table from the floor, raising it carefully, nearly letting it slip his grasp once, to hover in the air just off the stairs to his side. Guy reasoned that the table could provide some rudimentary protection as a solid wall between him and his enemy, though it was too heavy to casually throw. He would have to exert the channelled energy of his will in order attain the strength of mind to make a weapon out of it, which was tiring in a way that lifting within his capacity was not. Guy grimly hoped his enemies wouldn’t outlast his endurance. Allies of circumstance notwithstanding, that was a situation he didn’t care to run into.
While Guy was levitating the table from the basement floor, Lily was lunging past the woman as she frantically reloaded, headed for the hellspawn magician next to her.
The lanky man snarled the word that focused his energy into fire again, drawing what little power he could summon up in the heartbeat that stood between him and the enraged werebeast hurtling toward him.
When the man pointed at her, Lily was already sailing through the air only a few feet away from him. It was too late for her to stop herself from flying into the attack. She twisted sharply away from her prey as the magic fire sprung forth from his hand. Flames kissed her left flank, singeing the fur on that side but not burning her flesh.
Lily landed on all fours and immediately sprang up on her hind legs, twisting with her momentum to deliver a swift, high kick at the man who had the power to make fire do his bidding. She struck him hard in the side of the chest, sending him stumbling back into the wall with a thump and a groan. (15dmg)
Meanwhile the raincoat trio each made for better positions, the leader and the blond boy making it to behind the circular greeting desk while the raven-haired girl with the shotgun crept alongside the wall a dozen metres from the hall that concealed the cultists.
“It’s still not too late to throw down your weapons!” The redhead called. Guy could see the auras from all three of them slowly building with energy while steadied the table he held aloft.
“Shut your mouth, witch,” the woman with the gun called, “Even if you kill me here, the True Lord will have you in the end. The weak can’t deny the Coming any longer. I’ll be rewarded for my faith when others choked.” She shut and cocked the revolver. “So you’d better kill me now before I take you all with me—starting with your damned beast.”
Behind cover the red-haired woman swore, growing frustrated with the circumstances. She didn’t know how badly the fox creature was wounded, but she could clearly see that it had lost a lot of blood from the large red blot that covered the dimly illuminated patch at the front door.
“Hip,” she turned to her companion, “I want you to save your energy for saving the fox if things go nasty.”
The blond hair boy nodded in confirmation as her irises glowed softly with silvery light. She cast her gaze into future as the cultist woman pointed her gun at Lily, looking to see where to aim, to minimize the chance of a rogue shot or a mistake doing more harm than good.
Guy -8 Life ----- -4 Essence
---Precognition 0/2 rounds
Aaron -20 Life ----- -3/-4 Gun Cap
Lily -68 Life (+4 regen) ----- -3 Essence (10 in use, 10 ambient)
RC Red Hair
---Precognition 0/2 rounds
RC Black Hair -8 Life ()
RC Blond Hair -8 Life ()
Gunner1 -14 Life () ----- -3 Gun Cap ----- Dead?
Gunner2 Full Gun Cap (+6 reloaded)
Gunner3 (disarmed) Fleeing
Knife -56 Life () [Probably Dead]
Fist1 OMGWTF Gone
Fist2 OMGWTF Gone
Baseball Cap -15 Life (-15 broken ribs and bruised pec)
Marcus Anderson
Posted on 2010-09-21 at 07:28:31.
Edited on 2010-09-21 at 07:36:11 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: Demonic Vending Machine
Subject: It all depends on which one had the volume nob and power button
It spits out a pair of Listeners--one strong, silent type and the other a quiet, timid type. They won't judge.
I feed it a bag of Q-Tips and a knife.
Posted on 2010-09-11 at 18:48:42.
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Topic: The Day They Woke Up on the Wrong Side of Reality
Subject: Hey look! A gather quest? Not your usual quarry, either.
Plotting a Kobold Revolution
Sunday, June 29, 1008
Ixenedar Residential Sector – Temple
Irthos’ mind buzzed while we discussed possible plans, speaking up only after we had finished. “Actually, no.” He paused for a moment as if calculating and detailing a plan that was just forming in his mind.
“Given the amount of time it should take before the rumours of human presence within Ixenedar to reach the ears of our enemies, I believe we would do best to capitalize on the grace period in which you will be able to move about freely. Sending you to the Roost right now poses little benefit and much risk. Instead there is another task that you can undertake which, if successful, can be of much greater benefit to our cause at the moment than a direct confrontation.
“In the spirit of reconciling with the humans of Vulcasa, I want you to bring a group of at least two dozen human villagers to attend an assembly in the Common Room down in the Staging Sector two days from today. This gesture of goodwill between our peoples should serve to encourage feelings of amity, showing the petisse that the humans take an interest and show respect to this colony while the humans have the chance to understand better what has been happening this last month.
“When the day comes, you will lead any volunteers to the hidden entrance that connects to the residential sector. From there my people will escort you down to the Staging Sector. The volunteers must not bring any weapons—this is intended to be a peaceful gathering, not an armed rebellion. I would encourage you, as known ambassadors, to remain armed. The cult has set up a toll gate further down the road, and may attempt to interfere with our plans.
“After you have sufficiently spread the word through Vulcasa, I will ask that you return tomorrow to help with matters leading up to Tuesday’s event.
“Now, before I page the gem-traders who will accompany you back to town, do you understand your mission?
Posted on 2010-09-10 at 06:16:47.
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Topic: What was your favorite table top rpg character ?
Subject: From my pre-D&D days
Anyone else notice a significant concentration of Gestalt characters? Anyway, in an attempt to dilute the concentration a bit, I'll pull one from my days before I discovered that D&D still existed and wasn't just some game from the past >.>
Playing d20 Modern my favourite character is definitely the character with whom I experienced my first, nascent attempts at roleplaying.
Cieala was a member of a secret organization called the Hands of Faith that fought against incursions by monsters into the modern world, along with her brother (played by my brother.
Coincidentally it was also my first, daring attempt to play a female character.
She and her brother were both budding Aasimar psychics, her with the Far Hand wild talent (lift 5lbs) and he with Finger of Fire (take a guess). She was a Charismatic Hero going for the Telepath class and he was a Strong Hero with dreams of becoming a Battle Mind (the two classes d20 Modern presented for the psionic game setting that we borrowed from in our Urban Arcana).
She ran around carrying a sword cane shaped as an umbrella and talking sweetly to the local population to get information by day and cutting up demons and rubbing elbows with a local vigilante vampire NPC by night who once saved her and her brother when they were possessed (me) and enthralled (bro) by a Satanic Ichor.
Come to think of it, we tend to whine nowadays whenever something occurs that we were undermatched against, but back then, we stared the odds in the face and dove in anyway. Sure, that's probably because we were naive and undiscerning of forthcoming curb-stomp battles. Of course we were crapping ourselves when we ran into essentially a TPK in which the players weren't technically dead but being controlled by the GM, but we went along for the ride and things turned out awesomely.
Of course, you don't want to pull that kind of thing too often, 'cause then the character just get tired of being pulled out via deux ex machina after so many times, but if it so happens that they end up over their heads and have their butts kicked in--well that's a healthy character building excersize to help keep those egos in check.
Look at that, ask me a question about a character and I give you a rant. I'll turn things over to the next Innmate, then.
EDIT: Gah! I meant Gestalt, not Genasi!
Posted on 2010-09-08 at 07:06:12.
Edited on 2010-09-13 at 20:27:42 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The Skill Check Game
Subject: I'm making a note here: Huge Sucess
Success, they no longer think you are some talking frog. They think you are a regular vanilla-brand frog with no demonstrable ability to communicate. Fortunately for you Aperture Science is not interested in the scientific potential of normal frogs to overcome obstacles. You were freed instead of being fried.
I roll up a Reality Check to see if I got all that right.
Posted on 2010-09-08 at 03:40:23.
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Topic: The Day They Woke Up on the Wrong Side of Reality
Subject: While not directly related to the current events of my game, it has some interesting relevance.
The Sound of the Plot Stewing and Congealing
-Date Unknown; Contemporary-
Somewhere in Rural Gaellus
Ketzhazasthrax’s wings ached as he soared in low and fast toward the location that the human had chosen. Weary from a full day of flying, the mighty beast was stretched to the point of annoyance from scouting the area.
As he approached the site he didn’t even bother to check his speed with a quick reverse beat, but instead extended his legs before him and caught the impact with a shuddering thump that was wholly satisfying on his stiff limbs. The earth beneath his crimson feet formed small shovel-size mounds under the force of his landing.
Ketz allowed himself a moment to bask in his own raw strength and sheer magnificence as he stretched cat-like. His moment was cut short, however.
“Well?” The impudent human demanded.
Ketz snorted. “There are no threats to our mission within miles of this location,” he reported.
“Very good, dragon. You are permitted to rest, now.”
Permitted. Ketz snarled under his breath and settled down. If their mission were any less important to the success of his masters, he would revel in snapping the soft, fleshy man’s head from his shoulders. Heck, he still might, as soon as they were finished.
“I still don’t see why can’t just raze a few farms and burn a couple villages to the ground,” he complained. All this secrecy and intrigue was beginning to get on his nerves.
“That’s because you aren’t thinking. Our mission isn’t to attack, you fool, it’s to weaken the country from the inside before the armies even arrive,” the human replied. This same argument, or at least a variation of it, occurred almost nightly.
“Sounds like a weakling’s fight, if you ask me.” Ketz grumbled.
“That’s why no one ever asked you, brute. You just leave the strategy to those with the capacity for it.”
“Is that so? Well if you’re so knowledgeable about tactics, why don’t you explain to me what you’re doing out here in the middle of this blasted country and not back with the masters?”
The human curled his lip back in contempt. “That’s simple. Someone who understands the plan had to go along to make sure you don’t go off an do something stupid, like start torching villages, instead of what you’re supposed to.”
“Hah! That’s rich!” Ketz roared with a spiteful laugh, “As if the likes of you could stop me from doing anything I so wished! If I ever really wanted to burn anything down, I wouldn’t even be slowed down by your pleas to stop!” The dragon was now standing up, his wings spread wide. Ketz was at least twice as tall as the squishy man and several times larger.
“Watch your tongue, beast, or else I shall be forced to discipline you in the name of the masters! Know your place before I show it to you!”
“I am a darastrix! We are the strongest and most glorious of the races! My place is as a god compared to your pathetic, apelike race. Do not invoke the masters' as if their name gives you the authority to tell me what I can and cannot do!”
The man gave in to his fury, no longer bothering to keep his rage in check. “You traitorous bastard! I’ll show you proper respect!”
Power flooded through the man, forming into a gusher of fire bursting forth from his hand. The dragon roared in surprise as the flames washed over his chest.
“You—you burnt me! I—I’ll destroy for that!” Ketz bellowed with equal parts anger, terror, and stupefied shock. As a red dragon fire was his pet, his tool to do with as he saw fit. It was on his side, it would not touch him but would decimate his foes. Reality had turned upsidedown.
The man grinned and unleashed another burst of the crackling flames, filling the air with a hungry roar. The smell of fire and burnt scales filled the air as Ketz leapt at the human, sucking in his breath. The pain and shock had driven him nearly mindless.
Ketzhazathrax belched forth a font of dragon-fire from his lungs. Flame engulfed the warlock, but when the embers cleared he was only hardly scorched by the blast, with both of his forearms wrapped in swirling, hellish flame.
The warlock struck one final time, smiting the dragon in the face and charring out from his eye sockets to the back of his throat and everything in between.
Panting, the warlock looked down at the corpse, thinking of the insufferable attitude and questioning of authority he had put up with while the beast was still living. He spat up some blood onto the ground, then, not quite done raging, yet, he vented by unleashing his power upon the body until it was a smouldering black, dragon-shaped funeral pyre.
Posted on 2010-09-06 at 08:10:44.
Edited on 2011-05-04 at 22:37:55 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: The Skill Check Game
Subject: It wasn't the jump check you should have been rolling...
Success! You catch a full eyefull at the apex of your leap--too bad you failed the Decipher Script check your DM made in secret to determine which of the three doors you went through. Gruggs shower seperately, as you now know all too well.
I roll a pyrokinetics check
Posted on 2010-09-05 at 04:57:49.
Edited on 2010-09-05 at 04:58:39 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: I think these cultists are getting a certain sinking feeling...
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
12:02 - Moderate Rain, Shootouts and Stalking
Abandoned Hospital Lobby / 3F
Aaron peered down the pitch black hall. The chase had become a game of wits and guile—oh, how this hunt was developing in new and interesting ways.
He withdrew behind cover and unslung his M 107 Sniper Rifle from his shoulder. All the while keeping a keen ear out for sounds coming from his prey, he cradled it in the crook of his arm while he turned the safety on his handgun on.
With a few, expert movements, Aaron switched hands and stepped out into the hall with his rifle ready to fire and the handgun in a reversed grip. Finally, he drew his arm back and threw the handgun as deep as he could into the darkness.
The sudden, unexpected sound so far down the corridor and so far from where his prey through he ought to be should at least startle the man into giving away his position, if not actually draw him out into the open.
Aaron drew up his rifle and watched the shadows of the hallway carefully. Ideally a sniper rifle was meant to be fired from a prone position where the weapon’s significant kickback wouldn’t be an issue. Aaron didn’t take jobs where the conditions were considered ‘ideal’, however.
The sharp sound of the handgun striking the floor crashed out loud amongst the muffled gunshots from the lobby and the hushed patter of the rain and wind against the windows in the rooms. Aaron held his breath and listened carefully, and was rewarded for his diligence. With the clatter of the weapon there came a startled scuffle from very far down the hall and around a corner.
Under the veil of obscuring shadow, Aaron smirked to himself. He quietly stalked forward, moving from entrance to entrance, confident that Anderson had not concealed himself in one of them.
He managed to travel almost the entire length of the wing, knowing by memory that he was almost up to the point where the wing would branch together with the back portion of the ‘C’ behind the main lobby below. This meant that he would soon be approaching a junction in the hall, though he couldn’t see exactly where.
~***~
Guy saw the strange fox taking heavy gunfire and knew that the promise of regular fire hung in the air. Acting quickly, the young seer hefted his chair above his head and focused his psychic power on it. Again his irises glowed softly with inner energy as he lobbed the chair, throwing it with his mental might more than with the strength of his muscle.
The woman with the gun on the close end turned just in time to see the chair, but not soon enough to do aught by cry out in surprise. The plastic and metal chair struck her hard and fast, cracking several ribs on her right side and throwing her to the ground. (-14dmg)
“Throw down your weapons and surrender now!” the red-haired leader of the group of raincoats cried, strafing along the railing.
“Don’t you dare!” cried the capped man, “The True Lord of the Earth will not suffer weaklings in the New World! Prove yourself worthy of dominion!” He turned to the newcomers and raised his hands before him.
“Flamas!” he cried. The energy he had gathered was channelled through the matrix he had created with his will and manifested before him as a wave of flames sweeping out from his feet across the linoleum floor in a two metre wide arc.
The red-head was out of the way of the wave, but the dark-haired girl and the blond boy in front of Guy were both in the path. They both tried to dodge but couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, while Guy who had no practice with evading attacks stood even less of a chance.
Steam leapt up from the three as the heat rapidly evaporated any lingering water from their bodies and scalded their legs badly. (-8 dmg)
The man with the gun was clearly feeling the pressure was too much for him to handle. He wildly unloaded the last two bullets from his revolver at Lily, and then threw the gun to the floor, fleeing back down the hall he came from.
“Coward!” spat the fire-thrower. Neither shot struck Lily as she leapt swiftly away from where she had been standing.
The woman who remained standing turned her attention to the red-haired woman and fired three times. The first shot deflected off the shield that the woman had cast around herself while the other two flew off into the darkness. The last woman, whom Guy struck, remained unmoving on the floor, whether dead or submitting was uncertain.
Guy could see the energy beginning to gather around the two before him as they spread out along the railing ahead of him behind their leader, so that another wave of fire wouldn’t hit all of them again.
Both the fire-thrower and the last gunner retreated behind the cover of the hall as light briefly flooded the room from the glass roof.
~***~
Somewhere outside lightning flashed, casting brilliant light upon everything within its range in a massive discharge of energy—including the third story windows of a certain decrepit hospital.
In a inside-hall as he was, surrounded on either side by rooms between him and the nearest windows, Aaron remained enveloped in shadows, but from the hall he knew to be ahead of him light poured in, revealing the precise location of the T-junction.
The hitman knelt down softly, searching the area where he heard his gun skid to with his hand. He found it almost instantly and returned it to its place on his right hip.
“Why don’t you come out to play, guns blazing, again? What? Not so bold the second time?” The voice came from a ways the hall that split off to his left. “Perhaps the displays of mine and my fellow disciple’s power have taught you some inkling of respect for the forces of the True Lord? Clearly not enough, however, else we wouldn’t here, now would we?”
Guy -8 Life (-8 burnt) ----- -4 Essence (-4 charged Mindhands)
Aaron -20 Life ----- -3/-4 Gun Cap
Lily -72 Life (+4 regen) ----- -3 Essence (10 in use, 10 ambient)
RC Red Hair
RC Black Hair -8 Life (-8 burnt)
RC Blond Hair -8 Life (-8 burnt)
Gunner1 -14 Life (-14 flying chair) -3 Gun Cap ----- Dead?
Gunner2 -6 Gun Cap (-3 shots)
Gunner3 -6 Gun Cap (-2 shots and disarmed) Fleeing
Knife -56 Life (-8/-48 aggravated assault by wild animal) [Probably Dead]
Fist1 OMGWTF Gone
Fist2 OMGWTF Gone
Baseball Cap
Marcus Anderson
Posted on 2010-09-03 at 05:19:56.
Edited on 2010-09-25 at 05:10:26 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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Topic: WitchCraft: The Strength of a Warrior
Subject: She was right... they don't like her when she's angry.
Tuesday June 1, 1999 (O -3)
12:02 - Moderate Rain, Gusting Wind and Flying Lead
Abandoned Hospital Lobby
Any confidence that the knife-wielding drugee might have held about his ability to take on the animal quickly washed away as it slashed his gut before he understood what was happening. The monster had close in on him in two bounds, standing up for the third to gut him with one claw. (-8.)
The man curled reflexively from the shallow cut, only to have the furious Lily claw out his throat with a powerful, lucky swipe. His last conscious thought was to realize that, whatever else it was, the beast was not a wolf, but a really large grey fox. (-48 critical hit)
His corpse fell to the floor like last week’s trash, Lily still standing over him on her hind legs, slightly hunched and prepared to leap at the next challenger.
Both of the men on either side of him, already doubting their chances of coming away from the fight unharmed, turned and ran with naked terror on their faces, filling the air with the scent of their fear.
Of the four remaining, the only two women of the entire group, a man, and the baseball capped fire-shooter, the three without magical talent filled the lobby with the tremendous roar of their guns.
Lily didn’t have the time to dive for cover, this time. Of the six shots fired, three struck their target. One buried itself into the area of her kidney, one pierced her lung on the right, and the last tore into her shoulder. (-18, -36, -12) The pain was fantastically intense, but still not yet debilitating—a fact that was screwing with the shooters’ nerves, hard.
Guy hit the top of the stairs just behind his new allies. Even in the darkness he could make out across the lobby from him an anthropomorphic fox being shot at by three people standing at the mouth of a hall. It was as if the scene was pulled directly from his mind (something he was used to seeing, by now) with the singular omission of the scent of fire in the air. He glanced left at the two who had fled past him, screaming, and determined that neither would pose any threat.
~***~
Aaron tried the door at the second floor. The old, rusty hinges protested and the door jerked open unsteadily. He didn’t have to go looking to know that his target hadn’t stopped on this floor; as he removed his hand, the door started to close jerkily, but got caught and didn’t shut all the way.
If Mr. Anderson had passed this way in as big of a hurry as the target of a hit should have, the door would still be partially open when Aaron got there. He turned and continued up the stairs to the third floor where, he suspected, was the most likely place he would find his target.
Aaron coaxed the door of the third floor open with a mild screech and stepped through. The door closed slowly behind him, the system that kept the door shut still able to overpower the accruing rust and disuse.
“Is that you, fool? Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that your mundane skills cannot hope to compete with the power given to me by my lord? Very well, come and taste the flame that fatally lures the moth to its death and you shall see what it is that makes me fit to rule in the New World and you only to serve or die.” The cultist cried out from somewhere on the floor.
The hitman dropped his torch in the corner, depriving his mark an easy chance to see him and shoot—or do something else—from the cover of darkness. The stairs he took lay at the end of a hall, sheltered by a turn. Aaron stalked up to the corner of this bend and peered down the corridor. On either side as far as he could see were rooms, most of the doors hanging open where someone could fire from.
Aaron -20 Life ----- -3/-4 Gun Cap
Lily -76 Life (-18 kidney, -36 chest, -12 shoulder, +4 regen) ----- -3 Essence (10 in use, 10 ambient)
Gun-1 -3 Gun Cap (-2 shots each)
Gun-2 -3 Gun Cap (-2)
Gun-3 -4 Gun Cap (-2)
Knife -56 Life (-8/-48 aggravated assault by wild animal) [Probably Dead]
Fist-1 OMGWTF
Fist-2 OMGWTF
Baseball Cap
Marcus Anderson
(Heh, though I didn’t plan for it that way, Guy’s visions came about in exactly reverse order to how he foresaw them. Anyway, he may now go ahead and state his intentions (He is currently maybe 50-60 feet from the shooters and a bit further from Lily). Note to Aaron that he knows the upper floors of the building form a ‘C’ shape, of which he is at the end of one arm. Lily—you already know what to do, just tear them apart for their impertinence.)
Posted on 2010-08-20 at 05:13:45.
Edited on 2010-09-02 at 21:16:42 by Sibelius Eos Owm
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
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