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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: I have not heard of that game.
Let me know.
I think my rules scare players. 
Posted on 2008-11-08 at 00:30:23.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Did I miss something too?
I don't see anything further for me to go off of unless I missed an email ad well.
Posted on 2008-11-08 at 00:27:30.
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Topic: help the webmaster, part deux!
Subject: So?
Did he win?
Posted on 2008-11-08 at 00:25:25.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: No takers?
No one's interested in taking over the two characters that are already created?
To look the sheets over, check out the Q&A thread and click on the character names.
Posted on 2008-11-07 at 15:34:30.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Van...?
I was hoping for a post from Vanadia so I could continue this on this weekend. Is that still possible, Van?
Also, Sui, I'm going to need more information. Such as where he's from, race, any mundane items he absolutely has to have, etc. I like what I'm seeing so far though.
Posted on 2008-11-07 at 15:32:18.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I am here to help.
It is what I do, Choomba.
Posted on 2008-11-06 at 22:58:47.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Sorry
But yeah, Croaker is strapped down. And no. He can't hear the firefight or the alarm.
Posted on 2008-11-06 at 18:42:28.
Edited on 2008-11-06 at 18:43:58 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: After the circus leaves...
Char's posture slowly changed as events unfolded. He went from sitting attentively during the instructional conversation to the edge of his seat as Maximus crashed to the floor. From there he settled back in his chair, and as the warriors went crashing into each other, the educated wizard pulling a disappearing act the likes of which reminded Char of the invisible wizards from the tower, and then reappearing wrapped about Gwanelle only to fall to the ground...when all was said and done, Char was reclined, leg swung over the arm of the chair, his signature half smile riding rampant on his face. Out of the corner of his eye the ranger caught sight of Da'Moon hiding her mirth. He wasn't so cautious. A deep chuckle rolled from down inside his chest.
Of course, that ended when Dwan bellowed at the performers. Though the chuckling ended, the irreverent grin didn't. Shifting, Char had to admit to himself as he ran a hand across his beard, that he was a bit disappointed that the fun was over. They'd have precious little time or content to laugh about once they began their trek.
Dean's request for additional questions didn't spark any from the dirty woodsman, and barring any of the others raising questions, Char rolled smoothly from his chair and readjusted his leather armor, which had shifted uncomfortably during the meeting.
"Well den," he drawled easily. "Alls dat lef' be t' deci' where we be meetin' t' set out' on dis 'venture."
Once that's decided, he'll make his farewell and go off to take care of reprovisioning and remaining preparations before being required to address the matter of the investigation.
Posted on 2008-11-04 at 02:52:08.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Thank you
I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
Great beginning post, YeOlde! I had hoped you weren't going to
Portray Snickers as the lovable furball.
Oh, don't sell yourself short, Vanadia. You always played Caterina very well. As a matter-of-fact, Caterina has always been one of my favorite characters to GM for. I'm glad she's back in play.
Posted on 2008-11-04 at 02:43:01.
Edited on 2008-11-04 at 02:48:02 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: In place
The next leg is in place. I will strive to post again Sunday.
Posted on 2008-11-03 at 14:42:09.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: More!
New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:40pm
"Scribe. Here's what we'll do. On three, we stand up and walk slowly at a regular pace towards the stairwell as if we belonged here," Guardian whispered. "That'll leave the tails two options: either they'll let us pass or not. If not, move behind me and give them hell." He would much rather have entered a close quarters situation with his sword drawn out. But of course that would leave no possibility for everyone to survive the encounter. No one walked with a Kendachi in hand without an intention to kill someone. No one. Therefore Guardian would only have rely on his sense of combat, the Sandevistan speedware and the Smartgun linked .44.
"One... two... three.", as the last "e" died out, Guardian stood up like anyone who'd dropped his keys or something. He wasn't rushing or moving too slow and controlled either. The movement of the bodyguard was casual, almost relaxed. He didn't look around other than turned his head toward DS and nodded a couple of times as if replying to something the other man had said, and then started walking towards the fire escape. It would only be natural for anyone to take a look at a person passing him by and therefore Guardian's eyes were locked into the tails as he moved.
Guardian’s gamble paid off. DigitalScribe was used to improvising as his line of work was very rarely scripted, but it took a lot of willpower to rise up from the relative protection that the alley between the two vehicles provided. The camera on his shoulder swiveled, matching his gaze, and he knew due to the mindlink the cyberware provided him that it was recording everything.
Scribe had come to realize that the camera would invoke one of two responses from individuals in a potentially hazardous situation: the first, and most common, would be that they’d hesitate before doing anything drastic, and the second would be that they’d act immediately to the threat that the camera posed. He obviously would know within seconds which of these two those present would choose.
Acknowledging Guardian’s nod with as casual a grin as he could, Scribe followed him out from between the vehicles, remaining within a couple of paces of the big man’s flowing trench coat. He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder; the PIP screen showed the security SUV picking up speed, the light bar atop its smooth roof illuminating the garage with flashing yellow. Since Guardian was pretending not to notice, so did Scribe. Instead, he followed the large black man’s move and looked their shadows in the eyes (as much as the sunglasses allowed) as they passed, his camera following suite.
The two suits paused momentarily, apparently unsure of how to proceed, and as the pair they’d been following drew up near they were swallowed up by more indecision. It wasn’t until Guardian was past the first of the two, putting them in line to come within a few meters of the second, that the two men acted. The first spun about so that he was gaining a little on Scribe, and the second put a friendly smile on his face and held his hands wide.
“Just looking to talk,” he said as Guardian drew closer. “Would prefer to talk someplace a little less…imposing. There’s an offer on the table that I think you should listen to. Shall we continue on up the stairs?”
New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:41pm
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:56pm
MDK’s rush was an effective slaughterhouse. Followed up by Peacekeeper’s assault and there was nothing left but blood splattered walls and crumpled bodies lying within the elevator alcove. What’s more was that Peacekeeper was pretty sure that the claxon of the alarms drowned out the sounds of their gunfire; something she was grateful for.
She had stepped inside the door from the stairwell and to the left, allowing MDK to continue straight forward and Bull’s Eye to sweep in to the right, covering the hall beyond. It worked out, and when the trio had realized that their enemy lay dead on the patterned carpet, MDK continued on up to the far corner of the alcove and presented the barrel of his MPK to the hall beyond. Peacekeeper swept up on the dead, toed each in the head to make sure that they were, in fact, dead, and then bent to perform a quick pat down. Meanwhile, Firewind followed Freeway inside, with Lightning bringing up the rear. The medtech moved up to help Peacekeeper.
Bull’s Eye stared down the length of the hall and then gave a shake of his head. What the hell you doing, Colton? They were deep inside a megacorp facility! Someplace he never figured he’d be—hell, after the raid, he had doubted he’d see the light of day again. He still wasn’t sure why they were raided. The common thought had been that it was just the statics acting out against what they didn’t understand, but Bull’s Eye wasn’t so sure that was all there was to it. Trouble was that while he was Inside, he didn’t have the means to do any digging, and since being on the Outside, he had been caught up in this mess Croaker had delivered him into! And now, here he was following some high-tech killer into the belly of the beast to rescue said tribal elder. Pulled from his thoughts by MDK’s motion that they were moving forward, Bull’s Eye gave him a grim nod and readied his weapon as the assassin continued on down the hall.
Having searched through the pockets of the guards, Peacekeeper stood up and tossed Lightning an MPK submachine gun to take the place of the Arasaka handgun he’d procured in the guardroom on the main floor. Aside from that she’d snatched a keycard, but that was it. She’d never really been the type to rob the dead, and wasn’t sure that it would bring her anything but trouble to snake the man’s wallet anyway. So, rising up and spinning on her heel she moved fluidly after MDK’s black form when he made the motion to continue.
Having found pretty much nothing of value in his pat down of the bloodied corpse, Firewind waited until Peacekeeper, Bull’s Eye, and Freeway had moved on before stepping up alongside Lightning.
“I’ll take the handgun if you would prefer the submachine gun,” he said as he leaned in, glancing back at the door to the stairs just in case as he did so.
(OOC: whether Lighting hands the weapon over or not…)
It was roughly seventy feet from the stairs to the corner. Peaking his head around the inner edge, MDK peered down the length of hospital clean, white hallway with four doors on the right and two on the left, near the end of the hall. It was clear…empty. The numbers on the doors that he could see put them some distance still from their target. So, with no enemies in sight, and the netrunner having told him that the security cameras he could see in the corners and running the length of the hallway were inactive, MDK continued on down the eighty, or so, feet to the next corner, stopping short and peering briefly around it. There he saw four more men, just as two ducked into another hall putting them out of sight, and the other two stepped into the doorways on the outer wall, making them fairly well covered. Pulling back behind the corner, MDK knew that the men had spotted him, having likely been very cautious due to the alarms. He’d also noticed that there weren’t any doors on the inside hall, but that the hallway the men had ducked into was approximately eighty feet down the hall, on the inside, leaving another forty feet of hall before it turned to the left again. The outer wall bore four doors with the last of the four at about ninety feet, and the second to last at roughly eighty feet. These were the two doors that the other two men had ducked into. It was then that a voice carried over the ruckus the alarms made as one of the corporate guards at the end of the hall bellowed out: “You might as well surrender! You’re never going to get out of here alive otherwise.”
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:08am
Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:24am
“I think your asking the wrong person for answers,” Croaker said. “You should be asking yourself just how did your daughter get a hold of a drug meant for combat enhancement, was she a testee like I assume the other two people here are. I find it very hard to believe Ackermen, that a man clearly of your stature did not know anything about experiments on his own kid. If you really did not know this was going on as you say, then you might want to look closer to home, for someone had to have supplied it to her. You may have a bad case of rotting mold in your company that poses a bigger threat to you then I or my people.”
Mr. Ackerman stepped back and shook his head slowly as he peered down at Croaker, and this time the nomad could see sadness in the man’s eyes.
“We’re I to find it necessary to explain myself to the likes of you, Mr. Tallon, this would be an entirely different situation. Right now, I’m afraid that there’s another situation I must deal with. So I bid you good morning. I may, or may not, return to visit with you some more, Mr. Tallon. Rest assured, that someone will should I not.
“Oh,” Mr. Ackerman had turned towards the door where one of his guards stood ready and waiting, but had paused as though struck by a thought. When he turned about to face Croaker once more, the sadness was gone from his eyes. The nomad recognized the look that had replaced it. He’d seen it before when in the Nevada desert a few years before the Raid. He’d encountered a coyote edging in on their rabbit traps, and the look in its yellow eyes was one of triumph just before Croaker had been forced to retreat as a pack of the mangy canines rushed the line.
“I wouldn’t rest too comfortably. Right now my men are dealing with your friends…all of them. You are soon to be an oddity within my facility, Mr. Tallon. A rare specimen: an edgerunner. Do enjoy your last moments.”
That said, Mr. Ackerman strode to the door which his bodyguard opened as he drew near. The corporate exec stepped through the doorway and was immediately flanked by guards as he disappeared from sight.
The door closed leaving Croaker alone with the silent patients and the soft hum of the overhead lights keeping the beep of monitoring equipment company.
Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:26am
Posted on 2008-11-03 at 05:45:21.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Thanks!
Too many typos for my taste. Didn't take the time to reread the work before posting, so I'll have to go back through and edit.
Posted on 2008-11-03 at 04:48:44.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Go!!!
I've uploaded Caterina and made the intro post. Have fun!
For those of you who are waiting in the wings let me know when you are ready.
Posted on 2008-11-02 at 00:15:23.
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Topic: The Embodiment - A FUZIONfantasy Game
Subject: Let's get the ball rolling!!!
Introduction
He could still hear it far behind him, howling its rage, and he shivered as he pulled his cloak tighter about his armored shoulders with a gloved hand. The lantern light danced a hypnotic pattern about the stone wall surrounding the portal where his companion crouched, and the cold mountain air caught with each breath causing it to mist in front of him.
“Well?” His voice echoed in the stone tunnel. It had been smoothed by long-forgotten artisans and it carried the sound of their every move as though they were sticks on the crests of waves.
Emald turned his thin face towards the leader of the expedition and rested his right arm across his knee as he looked up at the rest of them. He bore a bandage about his forehead that was stained a dark red from their previous encounter with a cavebear just hours before. Indric hadn’t bothered to heal him—D’Hurgen would rather see the rogue dead and in his halls, than healed and vibrantly alive—so, the smallish man had just endured.
“This ‘ere is trapped alright,” the sallow-faced man acknowledged. “Khord’s did it, er someone with jus’ as much stone knowledge as I figures it.”
“Can you disarm it?” Lontruno growled. The thief preferred to take his time with just about everything, and it was getting annoying to the Sendrian swordsman.
“I think so, though it’ll take time, an’ then we still don’t know if it’ll be magically trapped,” Emald shrugged and continued to watch with his wide eyes.
“Leave that to me,” Guliril said softly, her long, black hair flowing from beneath the cowl of her crimson red hood like silk to rest on her milky-white chest, reflecting softly in the pale yellow of the lantern Mescard held.
“I ain’t about to touch the thing ‘til you check against magic, Wizard,” Emald grinned wryly revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. “I don’t fancy being toasted anymore than I fancied being torn apart by that damn bear.”
“You should learn to run faster,” Mescard chuckled. The man had led them here to this ancient tomb by following landmarks Lontruno’s studies had noted as well as providing a useful skill in wilderness lore.
“Get to it,” Lontruno ordered Guliril as he turned to squint back the way they’d come, unable to make out Adgenis’ form in the black where he stood watch some distance away. The man had a magical ring that allowed him to see in the dark, so it had made sense to put him at the back. “We don’t know how much time we have before we’re discovered, and I’d prefer not to have to fight our way out of here.”
“As you command,” the wizard lowered her head and stepped past him, her staff raised as she began to utter her incantation. Emald scrambled behind her, scratching at his disheveled mop of hair and eyeing the cold, beautiful woman with some unease. Her incantation spilled forth with lilting verse that caused her eyes to momentarily glow with a golden hue before settling to a thin membrane of bronze light over her pupils. She stared at the large, round wall etched with runes whose meaning was lost to Time for a moment before her lips slowly parted.
“There is magic here,” she breathed. Lontruno held up his hand unnecessarily to stall the thief from moving forward again, watching the only woman who’d joined him on this expedition with some interest as she continued to stare—as though in a trance—at the door blocking them from their goal. After another minute passed, Guliril spoke again, “It is a very powerful magic…ancient and potent.” Her face turned from the door to stare with those bronze-lit eyes at Lontruno. “It is of multiple schools of magic.”
“Then this is definitely the right place,” Lontruno smiled and scratched at his fresh beard as he turned his attention to the portal. After a brief passage of time, he shifted the large, leather belt pouch he wore at his waist to the front and pulled from within it a book bound in ratted leather. Stained and appearing to be ready to fall apart, Lontruno held it with the delicacy of a father cradling his newborn for the first time. He flipped through the brittle pages with careful patience before settling on one in particular near the back.
“…Though there be many to choose from, only the true tomb will bear the Mark of All; all that went into sealing it…ah, here it is. Did you prepare the spells I asked you to prepare, Guliril?”
“I did.”
“Then, I suggest that you begin.”
The wizard once again began her incantation, her staff held high, her left hand bearing a single, ornate ring, working strange symbols upon the air. Her words echoed through the tunnel with a ghostly resonance and then there was a flash of white light, and the runes at the bottom of the portal lit with a silver hue. Guliril took a deep breath and began to cast again. When she’d finished this time, the whole of the wall glowed yellow for a second before the magical energy ran down its surface like water to collect in the next set of runes making them glow silver as well. Eight more times, and for what seemed like an eternity to the others, Guliril cast her magic until all of the runes were glowing their liquid silver casting such a pale, overbearing light that even that of the lantern was diminished. When finished, the wizard settled against her staff and moved towards the wall neither expecting, nor receiving, a thank you for her work let alone a helping hand in her momentary weakened state.
“Your turn, Emald,” Lontruno motioned the little man forward with impatience while Indric, Mescard, and Guliril looked on in hunger.
“You sure it’s—“
“You were brought for one purpose, Emald, and one purpose only. Should you become a burden, I assure you there will be no returning home for you,” Lontruno smiled, though his narrowed eyes didn’t carry any warmth in them.
“Fine,” Emald sniffed and wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs as he approached the portal once more. He peered at the glowing, silver-hued liquid flowing within the runes out of the corner of his eye as he gingerly crouched within a foot of them. Muttering under his breath, he produced a series of iron and metal tools wrapped in simple burlap.
The stones at the foot of the portal were smoothly crafted, making it difficult to wedge his crowbar within their seams, and it took him longer than he’d have liked to achieve purchase. Glancing over his shoulder he raised his eyebrows at Lontruno before returning to the task of lifting the heavy stone. It was long, arduous work and he received no assistance from the priest of D’Hurgen, the ranger, the wizard, or their illustrious leader, all of whom just watched. Mumbling further, Emald began to address the system that had been rigged beneath the stone.
It wasn’t a pressure plate that he had to worry about, but something that would have activated once the portal was opened. He’d guessed that there would either be two stones brought together to crush those in the doorway and reseal the door, or blades. He wouldn’t know until they’d actually stepped through the portal, but he’d found a bit of stone chipped away near the door that had revealed the hollow chamber and what was surely the activating chains within, small as it had been.
It took close to a half hour for the thief to finish his work, during which time Lontruno had once sent Mescard back up the tunnel to check on Adgenis, but otherwise they’d all just stood around watching in silence as he worked.
“There’d better be a large amount of wealth behind this door,” Emald sniffed as he pushed himself to his feet and dusted his hands once again on his pants before turning to Lontruno and stepped back from the door. “Trapped no more, your lordship.”
Lontruno Neusiman stepped closer, the book still in hand.
“Epirro nia thi daii su naiya peyl!”
Lontruno coughed blood onto his sleeve and leaned against the wall, allowing his sword arm to hang limply at his side as he strained to see in the darkness. They’d lost Emald there at the portal. The words that had been scripted to open the door hadn’t just opened it, but they’d cracked the stone in half, toppling one heavy piece on the unfortunate thief. There may have been an opportunity for Emald to have escaped that gruesome death had it not been for Mescard pushing the little man forward in his haste to scramble out of the way.
Lontruno took a ragged breath deep into his burning lungs and pushed away from the wall, rising once more to his unsteady feet. There was very little light in this chamber, so deep beneath the mountain face…so far from that infernal door! He was alone now, having just left Guliril’s bloody, mangled corpse lying on the freezing stone floor where she’d fallen, her throat ripped out, her beautiful eyes burned from her skull. Mescard had been killed a few hours earlier, his intestines pulled up through his mouth by the unseen force that hunted them. Adgenis had died when they’d first encountered the cursed sarcophagus. The stout warrior had stood at Lontruno’s side as the transparent, milky white mist had tumbled from the broken seal to take on the form of a man made of swirling smoke and glowing red eyes. He’d raised his shield as Lontruno darted to the side, but it had been too late. The being had crushed Adgenis’ skull within his helmet causing brains and blood to spill from the rent metal like pudding from a toppled bowl. The warrior hadn’t even screamed, and his skull had seemed to put up no resistance to the crushing force of the creature’s strength.
That had been when Indric had yelled for them to run, and had begun a prayer to D’Hurgen. That had been when Indric had died. Lontruno hadn’t run like the priest had suggested, but had turned, sword in hand, to watch as the smoky being turned to face the bearded priest, and proceed to send pieces of his body flying in all directions as though he’d been drawn and quartered.
That was then…then…similar to the then when Lontruno had conceived of the plan to seek out this tomb and knowingly unleash this beast…this creature…this demigod. Power would surely have been his as thanks for breaking the creature from his ancient prison. Power and wealth, might and glory. He’d have brought Sendria into a rein like no other in all of Antaron’s history with the might he’d planned on wielding.
“Foolish,” Lontruno breathed as he slowly rounded a thick pillar to step further into the limited lantern light still left by his fallen companions. He’d thought himself prepared with the amulet he’d found in that rotting wooden shack deep in the Swamps of Kedesh where he’d first stumbled upon the book.
Before then he’d always thought of liches as undead locking themselves away in towers, or places such as this crypt he’s led them all to die within, and had never thought to come across one in a worm-filled shack nearly half submerged by thick, green, brackish water. He’d survived the encounter, but just barely—the first step towards this… this end. Anger welled up inside of him as he turned about, sword held ready in his tired hand. He’d had this creature sweep towards him in playful attack for some time now, and had experienced many minor cuts from what appeared as insubstantial claws, but were, in fact, appendages able to slice like a sharpened blade through his armor and clothing.
“Do it!” he screamed into the darkness. “Do it already! Kill me!”
He hurt. He was positive that this thing wasn’t going to let him leave the tomb alive, but was confused as to why it toyed with him. This fueled his anger, and caused him to scream violently at the shadows until his voice cracked and gave way. “Do it,” he whispered raggedly, his eyes darting about in search of that which harbored his end.
A chill climbed his back, starting at the base of his spine and rolling slowly, methodically, up to the bottom of his skull. He wanted to turn about, but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place. Only his jaw and eyes were able to move. He felt his lungs seize, his heart stop beating, and all he could do was grind his teeth and dart his eyes about frantically, aware that the being known as Bizarcat of the Bedlam was behind him, touching him, entering his body. A searing fire ate at the marrow of his bones and expanded into the muscles. Tears formed in his eyes as his body went rigid, his sword falling to clank loudly against the stone floor.
”I freed you,” he thought desperately as the corners of his vision began to darken. ”I freed you! And this is how you reward me?”
We need you. The words filled his mind, engulfing his consciousness in a repeated cacophony of voices that sounded as though they came from a massive hall. You have set us free, and you shall be rewarded. The sentence was a whisper amidst the chorus uttering the other phrase over and over again, and then, suddenly, it all stopped and Lontruno was returned to his pain, his suffocation, as his body began to lift from the ground, his back arching, his arms and legs spread wide.
Lontruno Neusiman’s voice was given substance and he screamed in such agony that it bore spirit and scarred the ceiling overhead. His fingertips, his toes, his eyes, his tongue, every extremity began to glow, and then shoot forth light in streams that extended to the walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber.
WE NEED YOU!
You shall be rewarded.
His body exploded into hundreds of motes of light that darted about the cavernous expanse of the tomb in frenzy. Only two remained still: one where Lontruno’s heart had been, and the other his brain. These two drifted slowly towards one another until they touched.
You have been rewarded.
I have been…I am…you.
The D’Oro Estate | The Empire of Drannon | Outside of The City of Drefast | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 6:00pm | Abnormally Warm
The warmth of the fire was almost entirely unnecessary within the coziness of the drawing room, but Ethain had stoked it nonetheless. The room wasn’t the largest in the D’Oro estate, but it was one where Caterina could find relative peace. Where noblewomen of the Empire often spent their evenings embroidering, darning, or knitting, Caterina hadn’t been held to such expectations for some time. The way she occupied her time was unique and so soon after her loyal manservant and squire Ethain had served dinner, she was content to sit and watch the last traces of sunset kiss the rooftops of the distant Drefast through the clear, if somewhat distorted view, the picture window provided her.
Life for Caterina D’Oro had been filled with what some would call adventures since the murders of her brother and father. She’d made many friends, encountered many amazing things, and endured much hardship while serving Rydor, and some within polite society whispered in awe at her deeds. Bards sang her praise, painting her in a glorious, haloed light within their tales and songs, for she was The Right Hand of Rydor, a name she’d earned when the God of Justice had worked through her to bring about a swift end to the life of the man who’d slaughtered her family. Word of her righteous might had spread quickly from the bloodied halls of her neighbor’s estate where she’d stood over the body of a childhood friend who’d been overcome by jealous indignation to such a degree that he’d sought justice through the deaths of those he’d imagined had dishonored him.
She’d left her estates shortly after; unable to endure the looks of reverent awe, or even fear, those she’d hired to care for the place had cast her way. From that time she’d been unable to avoid her calling even if she’d tried. She remained humbly aware that it is Rydor who empowers her, and the people came to recognize her as a pillar of strength, a shield for the weak, and a sword against injustice across Antaron. She’d been unable to avoid the fame, unable to avoid the recognition wherever she went in her resplendent golden armor—the armor that had been her brother’s and that had been recast to her shape after it had been nearly destroyed in combat. The name, The Right Hand of Rydor, was now known all across the land, and Caterina reveled in the peace the Festival celebrations brought her as it had drawn all of her house servants to the city for the parades, shows, and revelries. It left her in peace, tended by the loyal and silent Ethain—the poor boy had been subject to a slash across the throat during one of their adventures and had been rendered mute despite Rydor’s blessed healing.
Caterina’s life hadn’t all been successes in the glory of Rydor. She’d experienced great loss, and recently as well. Her heart still ached though it had been over a year since he’d vanished without word, without a trace. She could still picture the sweep of his black hair across his brow, his kind, brooding eyes, his strong features: Zin Raida had been a recognized champion of the Empire, a landed knight who had taken an interest in Caterina and looked past her devotion to Rydor enough to see who she was inside. He’d courted her for some time in a loving, caring relationship that is a rare thing between people accustomed to war, and then, he’d vanished. His estates were still run by his servants, and his brother worked to keep it profitable, but Sir Zin Raida was nowhere to be found, and Caterina felt his loss explicitly.
Caught up in her emotion, even for the moment, the Right Hand of Rydor might have missed the sound of crashing crockery were it not that there was no other sound in the estate than the cracking and popping of the fire. Under normal circumstances she could have just ignored the sound as the servants cleaned up their mess, but Ethain was one of those meticulous individuals that never broke anything, and the crashing of plates to the floor was so alien that Caterina found herself rising quickly from the comfort of the oversized chair—her father’s chair—and gliding gracefully out the door to the balcony that overlooked the entry hall.
It was here that her experience came into play most judiciously. Most failed to carry a weapon while in their home, but after witnessing the murders of her unarmed brother and father while they prepared for celebration, Caterina always carried her sword. The weapon was touched by magic and bearing the inscription Justicia y Deber along its polished blade it was a recognized tool of Justice by any who knew her. True to form, Caterina carried the sheathed weapon with her as she exited the room, having picked it up from where it rested against the arm of the chair as she swept by.
It was on the landing as she stepped through the door, crouched over Ethain’s body. It was covered in a thin, fiery red fur. Its head was oversized and bore resemblance to that of a bull, though Its mouth was broader and filled with fanged teeth dripping saliva instead of the rounded, smooth teeth of an herbivore. Its upper body was massively muscled, with bits of blackened chainmail actually fused to its flesh, seeping yellow puss between the links. Caterina would have mistaken it for a minotaur were it not for the large black feathered wings protruding from its back like those of an oversized crow. There was a seething red glow to its eyes, and a strange symbol branded upon its forehead the likes of which Caterina had never seen.
As she stepped into the space between the railing and the door, the creature lifted its head, its fanged mouth opening; its lips curling as it slowly withdrew a black sword from Ethain’s lifeless body, causing it to shift and jerk, caught up in a violent spasm of nerves. In a moment, Caterina knew that the squire had been attacked from behind while he climbed the stairs, his spine severed, a desert of sweetbread, dried fruit, and red wine intended for her being carried on a tray. Now, the desert lay scattered at her feet, the tray against the railing, the wine staining the carpet along with Ethain’s dark blood.
“You are to die now, Knight,” the creature heaved each word from its mouth as though it were a pain-filled effort while it drew a long, thin black dagger from behind its waist. “This was intended for you: Compliments of the Eloquent Mask of Obarin.”
The Simple Sod Tavern | Pardinal | The City of Portua | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 6:00pm | Storming
Dinner had been served. It consisted of a nice kidney pie, two pheasant drumsticks, a couple of slices of cracked wheat bread with churned butter, a bowl of beef and lentil soup, and a mug of warmed honeyed ale. Sna’kti had the table to himself as he usually did. Despite his reputation (or maybe because of his reputation) he was still left alone by the majority of the human populace. He always drew attention to himself—that was about impossible not to do for a six foot tall felinian man of muscle, fangs, and whiskers. Especially since he wore nothing more than a dak’tar, steel bracers, and a sword belt to carry his sho’tal when most were bundled up against the raging storm outside.
The meal wasn’t necessarily cheap, but Sna’kti was no longer worried so much about expenses as his stomach. He could always find more coin, but the warmth of the tavern and the food hitting his belly wasn’t something he was about to do without. He’d been out in the storm recently and the black and gray fur that covered the whole of his body was wet. He emitted a particular odor—not that it bothered him, but those who’d been sitting at an adjacent table had found reason to depart within minutes of his arrival, so he had to admit that he smelled of wet fur. It was better this way. He would be allowed to eat in relative peace.
Just as he was digging into his first bite of kidney pie the door opened blasting the floor with cold, gray rain, and admitting four men in procession, each wearing the purple cloaks of city guard and the conical helmet with dull gray aventail sweeping their shoulders. As soon as the last of them was inside, the door was pushed closed once more and the men surveyed the room. It didn’t take long before all of their eyes fell on the broad-shouldered, well-muscled form of the kazari. There was no hesitation in their approach which told Sna’kti they’d been looking for him.
“You are Sna’kti Sarassi’ka?” the lead figure asked. He was a man of average height and build with brown to nearly black hair as evident by his broom-bristle mustaches and deep five o’clock shadow. The bags underneath his eyes and the crow’s feet at their edges placed him at middle-aged. The sash across his chest gave him the rank of captain.
“Is there another Kazari about?”
The captain narrowed his eyes at the dour question, but pushed into his purpose nonetheless. “You have been summoned by His Majesty and will attend immediately pertaining to matters of the utmost urgency. Your reputation precedes you…sir.”
Posted on 2008-11-01 at 23:52:23.
Edited on 2008-11-03 at 06:15:16 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Official posting date.
I will be posting tomorrow, so please get your posts in.
Posted on 2008-11-01 at 21:00:49.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Investigation
May 9th, 2025 – 1110
Communications Center, Antarctic Research Facility 36, Antarctica
The halls were eerily silent. Monty kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t being snuck up on by some creepy, otherworldly being. It took some doing to make sure that his outward appearance didn’t reflect his inner anxiety. It was always a bad thing when the leader looked ready to fall apart. That usually led to chaos. So, Lt. Kernan remained the epitome of cool as he covered their six.
When they passed the machine, Monty refrained from stopping the team to investigate it himself. He momentarily considered allowing Blake the opportunity to perform her own analysis, but didn’t relish the idea of being stuck without a good defensible position, so he kept them moving. It wasn’t until they arrived at the alien “pod” that he called a halt to their progress. He allowed Kane to post watches, and made his way up to the wreckage of the pod, standing three feet from it, and scanning the whole of it, and the alien, with a critical eye. The tentacles, the state of the corpse…Monty assumed it had been killed in a firefight, and that meant it was hostile. He wondered briefly if there might be anything in the pod that could leap out at them like in the movie Alien, and nearly stepped back from it before catching himself. They had to know what was going on here, and getting edgy wouldn’t do anyone any good. Alien was a movie, and this was real life—as strange as it was getting.
Crouching, Monty took the pod in from another angle, trying to determine whether it might be booby-trapped, or otherwise recognizing any obvious threat. Once he was fairly confident that there wasn’t anything moving inside the pod, or that there wasn’t some explosive device underneath the alien form, he rose again and stepped up to do a more thorough investigation of the pod and alien, trying the whole while to appear nonchalant in his approach despite wanting to make sure he didn’t touch the alien creature.
He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but he hoped he would find something that might aid them. When he’d been younger, he’d played video games that put alien weaponry in the hands of the hero once the alien was killed. Maybe he’d find a laser pistol…
Posted on 2008-11-01 at 20:59:37.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Depends
If security put the pedal to the metal you'd wind up maybe ten meters ahead of then when reaching the stairwell providing you aren't delayed by the tails.
Posted on 2008-10-31 at 20:22:01.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: This weekend
I am planning on having at least the first part of the intro post up this weekend, if not the whole thing. There are still a lot of positions open in this game, and I'm really hoping to fill them with quality, experienced role-players who can dedicate themselves to the experience, but for now I'll be starting with the players who indicate they are present.
Get read, get set...
Posted on 2008-10-31 at 00:38:56.
Edited on 2008-10-31 at 00:42:53 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: This weekend
I apologize for the delays folks. I will post this upcoming weekend. But I'm hoping for posts from Sui, Freeway, Drakar, and Raven before I do. I need to apologize as well: Drakar joined with Lightning at the same time as MDK but with Drakar's disappearance I kinds forgot about Lightning. Now, I don't see him as having been able to change the course of things so we don't have to worry about that. For the sake of future posts please just consider Lightning as having tagged along with Bull's Eye and Firewind in silence. Cool, Choombattas? Cool.
Posted on 2008-10-31 at 00:32:52.
Edited on 2008-10-31 at 00:37:57 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I appreciate that.
Well, I kinda just stopped writing Lightning into the posts unintentionally. But he's still with the group at the facility, having been captured with the others. So, you are welcome to join the game again.
Posted on 2008-10-26 at 21:43:36.
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Topic: Finally back
Subject: Welcome back!
Nicely done!
We're glad you decided to come back.
Posted on 2008-10-26 at 21:41:51.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Next day? Yippee!
“I noticed that runabout and the dragonfly docked near my ship, JW. Any idea what the business is for those on board?” Wyatt glanced at the window of a shop they were passing, black as the day’s business had ended and reflecting the scene on the street including them passing by.
“I don’t rightly know” JW replied and he looked over to Bailey.
“The Transport was dropping off passengers and refuelling. Crew was looking for a load to carry but we ain’t got one. So I think they decided to check out town while they were planetside.” Bailey answered, “As to the small one, some guy looking for a brother and sister wanted by Alliance. Offering a portion of a reward with anyone knows anything. Apparently they were last seen on a firefly leaving Beaumonde. Easy to spot the guy though, wears these fancy red and gold duds by Newtech.”
“Bounty hunter.” JW said in disgust and spat on the ground. “You ain’t got these fugitives do ya? Second thought, I don’t want to know if you do. I play stupid better when I don’t know anything.”
Sung made a dry chuckle sound and shook his head. “Naw, I don’t have nothin’ aboard since you folks took the shipment.”
Wyatt joined the men in the bar in order to keep his ear to the ground, learn what he could from the locals as to what’s going on, but he kept his mouth dry. It was a very difficult task to accomplish, not drinking, but he’d promised, and he knew that losing sobriety at this moment could mean life or death for himself, or his crew, so when the temptation got too difficult, and the captain nearly accepted, he knew he was getting too tired to effectively resist. That’s when he called it a night, and made his way back towards Rocinante.
He kept a close eye on the shadows again, wondering if he were getting as twitchy as Sam—maybe they were wearing off on each other. In any case, as he drew near the dock, the smell of fuel heavy in the air, he heard the sound of a ship burnin’ atmo as fast as it could. His brow furrowed, Wyatt slipped his coat around the leg of his Colt and rest a hand on the grip as he kept on. His icy stare swept the boardwalks quickly coming to rest on the smoke trail that climbed to the heavens, the bounty hunter’s skiff slowly diminishing against the dark sky. A frown creased his face as he considered what reasons the fellow might have had to risk setting the docks aflame with his departure, but then the response he’d received from Bailey concerning the bounty hunter’s intention had relieved him of some stress related to the man’s arrival, so as he watched the burn grow smaller, he shifted so that his coat was draped over his weapon once more and continued on towards Rocinante intent on getting some much needed sleep.
Stepping up to the ship’s cargo door, he glanced over to where the other ship had departed, shaking his head as he punched the code to give him access. Opening the door, he stepped into the cargo bay and then turned, and out of habit, peered over the dark docks to see if anyone had followed him (OOC: Perception check please). Closing the door, he slung the lock and then turned and faced his empty cargo bay.
What a mess this whole thing had turned into. The mule’d need repairs, they had nothing lined up even though there was the possibility of the meeting in the morning resulting in some additional work, Wyatt was the type to never count his chicks before they hatched. Taking a deep breath, the captain made his way up the side stairs to the catwalk, the up to the front hall. He was about to head to his room when he heard activity in the galley. The frown still on his face, Wyatt turned and made his way down the foredeck to the galley, stepping into the soft light to see Ma, Willow, and Asher all apparently discussing something (OOC: making some assumptions here as fifteen minutes plus would have passed from when you lot rushed out and found the corpse).
“Awful late, dontcha think?” Wyatt said softly, eyeing the group with furrowed brows and a downturned head, his thumbs hooked in his belt.
(OOC: Assuming they tell him of the discovery…)
The frown never left Sung’s face during the recital of their discovery and when they were done, he gave a slight shake of his head. “So, someone stole the bounty hunter’s ship after killing the Buhn Dahn?
“None of our gorram business if’n you ask me. Less we know about that mess the better. Now, there’s a lot goin’ on in less hours than I’d like to count. So, I suggest the likes of you all get some sleep so we can be fresh faced and bright eyed when we have to make decisions that’ll effect our overall well-bein’. Dohn-ma?”
(OOC: Assuming there aren’t any questions or continuances to the conversation…)
Morning came earlier than Wyatt would have liked. One foot hanging off his bed, the other with the single blanket he used wrapped around it like a chain, Sung blinked himself awake, the computer alarm sounding his wake up call. It took him a second to sit up, rub the sleep from his eyes, and yawn, then he was stumbling across his bunk, his near-naked form a shadow in the practically non-existent light of his dorm. If he knew Ma, she’d be up already and in the galley preparing something for breakfast. Most likely something to do with the gorram paste! Wyatt thought as he activated the light over his washbasin and stared at his sleep-deprived face. It was getting harder, the lines on his face were deepening, and the hollow look to his eyes were deeper. Turning on the water, he briefly ran some through his hair and splashed his face, then took another look at the face that time was ravaging. Eden would have had trouble recognizing him. The five-o’clock shadow about his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows caused by his near constant scowl; he was not the same bright-eyed man who’d carried her across the threshold of their tiny ranch house.
Shaking the feeling of loss that threatened to send him back to bed—or worse—Wyatt continued to get ready for the day: showering, shaving, combing his hair and getting dressed. He felt the distinct bareness of his scalp as he no longer had a hat to wear and decided to resolve that matter today. Then, he climbed the ladder steps to the fore deck and made his way to the galley.
At breakfast, he discussed with everyone the plans for their newly earned money. Fifteen hundred credits wouldn’t go far as Wyatt outlined everything they could do with the money. His suggestions were to try and reserve their fuel for the next planetfall, and fill up where the price wasn’t so steep. It was a risk, and would require some less than fancy flying once they were in the sky again, but he thought they could make it should they be conservative. He felt that they’d need to try and take the time for at least a partial maintenance check (read: one of the two they are behind on) lest they find themselves floating in the Black just long enough to die. The mule should be repaired, and then there was the usual maintenance at port, and port fees. Not to mention making sure their food supplies were stocked up, and spending cash for the lot of them. Even though it’d be slim, Wyatt knew they all needed a little R&R, so it was important to give each a little by way of the money the ship had taken in, but he didn’t want to use up all of their cash as they’d definitely have to fuel up at their next stop, so…
• 480 credits for just what needed to be done to keep Rocinante in the air.
• 30 credits for the mule.
• 50 credits for port fees.
• 50 credits to scrub and disinfect the tanks.
That equals 610 credits. 50 credits apiece equates to 300 credits. So, that leaves 590 credits to save for fuel when they land again. Unless, that is, Trish says they need more food supplies. Wyatt knew a new hat would likely cost him somewhere around 3-5 credits, so he wasn’t too concerned about the price of that, but Sam’s ballistic mesh would cost near 50 credits alone, so he might have to lone his friend some money to handle that. Then there was restocking the ammunition. Wyatt figured they’d need to spend roughly 10-20 credits on ammunition to bring them back up to load. All of this meant at least another day in on this dirt ball, but that was a necessity they couldn’t avoid. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to get sick from the poor care of Rocinante.
“So, that’s how the chips fall, y’all,” Wyatt said somewhat glumly as he poked at the skillet-fried protein flapjacks he still had remaining on his plate. “If there ain’t any complaint, I’ll dish out your share, and then I suggest we be on about our various business.
“Willow, you sure you don’t want me to accompany you to this meetin’ with the old shepard?” He knew the answer before he’d even asked the question. When that woman set her mind to something there was no changing it. So, he accepted the answer with a nod. “Fair enough. Asher, you come with me. We’ll swing by an’ pick up Sam, Wolf, an’ the mule, then see what time we have remainin’ before the meeting.”
Rising up from his chair, Wyatt gave Trish a nod, “Right fine breakfast, Ma. You keep this safe now, an’ don’t forget that I have the transmitter on me should you need anything.” They’d long ago established the code to alert Wyatt to various needs that might arise with Trish’s mute condition.
Posted on 2008-10-26 at 21:32:26.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Ooo!
The plot thickens!
I like it!
All right then...I posted and put some assumptions in place, so if I need to change anything, let me know and I'll be happy to.
I'm duplicating my finance ideas here for out-of-character discussion. Al, I figured the price of a new hat based on the price of a cowboy hat online. I found them for around $60-$70 US, which would equate to roughly 2-4 credits. Hope you don't mind.
• 480 credits for just what needed to be done to keep Rocinante in the air.
• 30 credits for the mule.
• 50 credits for port fees.
• 50 credits to scrub and disinfect the tanks.
That equals 610 credits. 50 credits apiece equates to 300 credits. So, that leaves 590 credits to save for fuel when they land again. Unless, that is, Trish says they need more food supplies. Wyatt knew a new hat would likely cost him somewhere around 3-5 credits, so he wasn’t too concerned about the price of that, but Sam’s ballistic mesh would cost near 50 credits alone, so he might have to lone his friend some money to handle that. Then there was restocking the ammunition. Wyatt figured they’d need to spend roughly 10-20 credits on ammunition to bring them back up to load.
So, Wyatt's plan is to swing by the Doc's and pick up Dash. He'll have handed out Willow's, Asher's, and Trish's credit share at breakfast, and will give Sam his. Now, I figured since Wolf got shot up for them, Wyatt'd cut him in on a share this time around as well, so he'll provide Wolf with his share at the Doc's as well as the cost to repair the mule. Then, I'm assuming Wolf will be off to buy parts, and spend what time he needs to repair the vehicle, before returning it to Rocinante. Meanwhile, Sam, Asher, Wyatt, and Willow will make their way to the town council meeting unless it happens at the same time as Willow's meeting with the shepard--I can't remember. Either way, along the way, Wyatt will see about replacing his hat, and helping Sam get a new ballistic shirt as well as replenishing their ammunition. That's the priority: restocking, then the meeting.
Let me know if I left anything out, or if any of you disagree with my assessment of the situation.
I love this game!
Posted on 2008-10-26 at 20:35:41.
Edited on 2008-10-26 at 21:39:32 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Awesome!
Drakar! What happened, man? That was some absence.
Glad to hear you're in, Raven.
I want to give some more people the opportunity to post, so I'll likely address the game later this evening, or tomorrow.
Posted on 2008-10-26 at 20:34:04.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Done with yet another!
Caterina has been converted to FUZIONfantasy. I just have to turn her into an HTML document and upload her. Well, this means that once I'm done with that I can probably get the introductory posts in place and get this party going with the players we've got in place.
Posted on 2008-10-25 at 22:52:27.
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