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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game

@ the radio comment!

Posted on 2019-05-13 at 17:20:14.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game

Excellent! I thought maybe the Man had caught up with you.

Posted on 2019-05-09 at 17:57:59.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game

Still looking for a post from Espatier and Keeper as well as any additional input on Bloodbank's plan from other characters.

Posted on 2019-05-07 at 11:28:49.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A

Looking for a post from Giddy and then I'll move us along.

Posted on 2019-05-07 at 11:27:44.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A

So... still not seeing an update. *Cracks the whip.*

Posted on 2019-05-07 at 11:27:02.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A


Posted on 2019-04-17 at 10:40:39.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A

Giddy has family visiting him for the week. I don't know how much time he'll have to reply. Just an FYI.

Posted on 2019-04-17 at 10:38:51.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A


Posted on 2019-04-15 at 18:39:46.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Game

"I thank you for your extremely loud knocking, woodsman," Alyrëa says to Lanur in mock gratitude when she sees him. "If not for you, I may never have gotten ready in time to accompany you all to the jailhouse."

Lanur stares coldly at the woman, easily picking up on the bite of her words. His stare is but for a brief moment as he quickly puts her discomfort out of his mind and sets on about his wake-up call.

The Innkeep arrives just as Alyrëa shuts her door and a third door opens allowing Boz to step out, his scarred chest bare and him clutching a club. 

"You!" The Innkeep hisses. "That is it! You've overstayed your welcome, man. You will leave this building immediately! Harassing poor Mistress Velalin, disturbing my patrons! I will have no more of your... your... disruptive behavior! Boz!"

With a grunt, Boz stepped towards Lanur clutching his club tightly and cautiously eyeing the woodsman. "Now let's 'ave no trouble. Nice and easy." He directed in his gravely, low voice.

The woodsman raises his brows and hauls off a cocky half-grin. "Yer pettycoats be showing," he drawls at the innkeep, ignoring the hulking muscle. "Nothing to worry 'bout, though. I'm on my way as it is. One night in a stable is 'nuff for me."

Flanked by a half-naked Boz and the heavy breathing, grumbling Master Masteon, Lanur is directed down the stairs into the still deserted common room. It is a strange trio that Dane observes march down the stairs, weave between the tables, and out the front door. Lanur glances towards the man but for all intents and purposes, does not appear to recognize him.

"And don't think of sticking your dirty head back in here again, or Boz will show you what for!" Master Masteon declares as the door slams shut behind Lanur and Boz.

Stepping further from the Gleeman's Abode, Lanur stretches and breathes the cold air in deeply. Smiling broadly, he turns to Boz and points in the direction that the soldiers had gone the day before. "Jail?" 

Receiving a sullen shrug from the bouncer, the woodsman turns in that direction and strides off, whistling a light tune, eyes scanning the horizon. Spotting a woman splashing the morning's waste into the street, Lanur Dinar wrinkles his nose at the odor and repeats his question. "Jailhouse?" Receiving directions, he continues on his way.

As he walks, the grizzled man notices that as far as cities go, Maeldon is a decent enough place. Not nearly as glamorous as the Ogre built cities of Caemlyn's Upper City or Tar Valon, but still respectable, the gray stone has likely been hauled in from the Mountains of Mist and made stout foundations upon which strong wooden beams sit, holding up steep sloping roofs of brown slated shingles two, three, and even occasionally four stories high. The brown wood of the structural beams stands out starkly against the whitewashed walls and the brightly painted signs denoting cobblers, tailors, and blacksmiths among the many other trades. Dinur has little use for cities. He'll occasionally bring in furs for trade and purchase some of the better-made gear and clothing for his next long journey in the wilderness, but aside from that he finds people irritating, political, and less worth his time than leeches feasting on his leg after a jaunt in the swamp.

Approximately a quarter of an hour walking from the Gleeman's Abode and the wild man finds what can only be the jailhouse. A long flat building, easily identifiable when compared to the sharp sloping roofs of the buildings surrounding it with a barracks connected to the right side. There, he spies a small group of off-duty guardsmen, some wearing the armor and blue armband with the White Rose sewn that he recognizes from his encounter with the city guard yesterday. Continuing to stroll past, Lanur places the guard standing rigidly beside the door outside of the Jailhouse, hand resting on the pommel of his sword which is in turn, belted to his waist, angling the blade to slant behind him. Pretending not to notice, the fur draped scruffy man procedes past, still whistling. Once he's achieved a position on the street that affords him the opportunity to round a corner and place him out of site of the guards, Lanur does so, taking in the layout of the new street, searching for an alley or place from which he can set up surveillance. Watching does not always reveal valuable information, but the woodsman has found such actions to be beneficial in most cases.

After a time, Lanur Dinar notices the approach of the strange little wolfpack. He's now placed the jailhouse and those people are moving inside. The next step is to determine the position, and potentially the disposition, of the White Cloaks. Light take them! Sinking away from any proximity to the jailhouse, Lanur turns and seeks out a means by which he can gain directions to the White Cloak encampment.

Posted on 2019-04-15 at 18:39:17.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A

We are planetside as soon as Jenna lands the WaveRider. Once the WaveRider lands, standard security protocol will come into effect. Stark and his man will exit the shuttle first, but only after a clear sensor sweep indicates that there's no danger about (will it?). Once the security team has established a parameter, the rest of the team will exit the shuttle. 

Science and Engineering will immediately begin setting up sensor extender pylons in an effort to break the atmospheric interference for the Carver. Once this is done, Science will begin taking readings, samples of the earth crust, flora, etc. 

Engineering will move on to making a full diagnostics of the WaveRider along with Falcone to see what kind of damage, if any, their flight has resulted in. What will they find... hmmm?

Meanwhile, Cole will lead the rest of the Away Team about the area that the shuttle landed on doing a little exploration. 

Posted on 2019-04-15 at 13:14:02.

Topic: Star Trek: Hidden Depths

Stardate: 2365.03.29 (Sunday - 42269.8 )
WaveRider Shuttle - Rho Puppis I Uppermost Atmosphere - 1149 Alpha Shift

"If Mister Siric's readings are correct, and I have no reason to think that they are not, then we will breach the inner atmosphere in less than five minutes." She paused. "That is, if I understood correctly?" She returned her gaze to the control panels, taking comfort in something that she actually knew.

"You have not, Mister Falcone," Cole replies calmly, eyeing the panels in front of her from over her shoulder. "Takes us to the surface. We've at least figured out a way to temporarily reduce the effects of the power drain. I'll let the science teams on the Carver work their magic to figure out the rest. Good work, people."

Strangely, the closer to the surface that the shuttle progresses, the less dense the existence of the microbial creatures. By the time the WaveRider enters the Troposphere, there appears to be none at all. 

Peering through the viewport, Cmdr. Cole takes in the alien landscape with a set jaw and a slight frown on his face. The surface of Rho Puppis I is a jagged mess of cutting cliffs and sharp protrusions of crystal. Plantlife has flourished in a number of areas but everywhere there are pinnacles of knife-like minerals slicing through the sky and complicated canyons creating mazes of deep unknowns across the landscape.

"Water, flora, fauna..." Sari Uhnari reports, "It's all here. The air is breathable as well, though thin at this altitude. Gravity is a little lighter than we're used to. Unless we're spending months on the surface, we shouldn't expect any ill effects."

"Find a place to set down, Mister Falcone," Max orders. "I'd like as much room to move about as possible, please."

Posted on 2019-04-15 at 13:00:53.

Topic: Hidden Corruption Q&A

Have we stalled out again?

Posted on 2019-04-15 at 12:50:07.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game

Excellent. Looking for posts from Espatier and Keeper. Also, Nomad, to clarify, the woman you all are looking for isn't there. There's an old woman at that address named Marta. 

Giddy has proposed a plan of action through Bloodbank and outlined it again here. Looking forward to your posts.

Posted on 2019-04-15 at 12:37:58.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game

Still looking for posts... Where did everyone go?

Posted on 2019-04-12 at 14:12:38.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Game

Consciousness pervades the surreal and a realization of the darkness encompassing him strikes like a hammer to the anvil; sharp and startling. Sitting bolt upright, sword half unsheathed before fully aware, Lanur Dinas finds himself alone in his rented bedchamber, nearly naked, his hair caught up in his beard and a feral look prevalent in his unsettling eyes. Recognition dawns, cascading through his mind first as a gentle snowfall and then an avalanche reminding him of his condition and surroundings. 

"The Wheel take me," he grumbles, sheathing his blade fully and casting the scratchy blanket aside. "Once in a great while I sleep indoors and cannot fathom how people desire to do so on a regular basis."

Glancing towards the window, he registers the approximate time of morning by the fact that there's a small sliver of gray on the horizon but the rest of the sky is still dark. Living in the wilderness has taught the large man the value of stepping lightly and moving with as little noise as possible. This lesson has taken root so deeply in his being that even in the "safety" of a civilized society, he moves like a mountain cat as he dresses. Retrieving his belt knife, he sits on the edge of the bed and gently scrapes the dried stew from his furs and clothing. He is patient and calculating in his efforts so not to damage anything and when he finishes with his laundry, the rough man cleans his blade before returning it to the leather sheath from whence it was produced. 

Quietly moving the furniture back to its original place, he then shoulders his gear and steps out into the dark hall. Leave this Light-blasted place and return to the solace of the wilds, you fool. Turning his gaze to and fro in the hall, he considers the willingness of the strangers he had met the night before to throw in together in the effort to assist the fiery old woman. Strange pack of wolves... their pelts will likely rest before a fireplace before their quest is over. Let them be. The Whitecloaks aren't to be trifled with and Aes Sedai are just as bad. Images of the poor girl being manhandled and Mistress Velalin being struck down along her garden path flow back into his thoughts as assuredly as the spring rains bring flooding. Closing his eyes and allowing his head to loll backwards for a moment, Lanur curses the good nature the Wheel has bestowed upon him and breaks free of the traps his mind is setting for his conscious. 

"Fine then," he grumbles, searching along the hallway to count out the doors. He hadn't registered any others who might be setting themselves up in the Gleeman's Abode but those who had already determined to assist the old woman in her plight, so he cared not about the consequences of his actions. He can already hear the rustling about of the Inn's staff as they prepared for the day and as an early riser himself, time is of the essence. Striding to the furthest away door, he pounds upon it with his closed fist. 

"The day escapes us," he bellows, moving on to the next door and repeating the pounding. "If you wish to spare the youngling the headsman's ax, we best be about it." The next door receives the same treatment, and the next, and the next, until all have been thunderously beaten.

Gliding down the stairs, the woodsman places himself in front of the kitchen door and declares, "I'm hungry and ready to eat. The others that came here yester eve will likely also be ready to eat." 

That being said, he picks out a table from which he can eyeball the whole of the dining area and at which angle his back is completely protected. Depositing his gear to his side, he awaits the others. Strange pack of wolves we'll make.

Posted on 2019-04-12 at 14:11:08.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A

I have a post in mind for the morning. *EVIL GRIN*

And I have posted it.

Posted on 2019-04-11 at 21:24:54.
Edited on 2019-04-12 at 14:11:26 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Hidden Corruption Q&A

But, depending on the style it can be called many different things.

Posted on 2019-04-05 at 14:54:06.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A

It's like calling shotgun. I won.

Posted on 2019-04-05 at 14:53:14.

Topic: Trials of the webmaster...

I'd use Roll20 over Discord for that any day.

Posted on 2019-04-05 at 14:52:28.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure

X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, Rya Mendez’s Listed Address - Outside on the Street  | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 6:50 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Finally, Luther stops, Ghlahn at his side, his gaze piercing the predawn gloom. Near a dumpster sits a well-constructed tent made of old military grade canvas. No trash exists within two meters of it and the space that the other homeless are giving the abode shows a certain level of respect. Furthermore, there’s a light on inside, small and dim but visible through the centimeter wide crack between the flaps and Luther has seen the light be blotted out on a couple of occasions indicating that the occupant is awake.

Up the street a ways, Echo parks the jeep facing back towards the building. The negotiating party is well within sight and the Edgers have a decent vantage to watch everything transpire.

“Morning, Choombatta. I hope that I’m not disturbing you in your tent while others are in the Sandman’s Playbox,” Charlie announces himself from where he has stopped. “If you have the time to parlay, perhaps this night might end up benefiting two parties instead of one. Interested, Choomba?”

“Go the **** away, corpse,” a low male voice growls from within the depths of the canvas castle. “Leave me in peace.”

His initial approach ineffective, Cred Stick Charlie dips his head a bit and allows the rain that has gathered on the brim of his fedora to drizzle off in a small waterfall before his face. This man is exactly who he wants to work their cause. He’s obviously a loner, but his response shows mettle and his desire to be left alone in his own version of serenity tells the fixer that he’s likely a thoughtful man. Just what’s needed for something like the task the Edgerunners are facing.

He attempts another approach, this time attempting to just draw the target into the false dawn for a better look at him. This takes a few tries and well thought out phrases but eventually the man emerges.

He stands almost two meters in height, flowing from the interior of his abode much like an octopus from his hole. He’s thin, gangly, and one-legged using an old crutch wrapped in duct tape. His black face is scarred by acid or fire making him hideous to behold. To Ghlahn, it is obvious that he’s the victim of a napalm attack. His missing leg combined with that injury and his inability to replace the limb with cybernetics and get a skinjob means he was most likely military—probably fought in one of the many wars the U.S. is engaged in within the jungles of South America or the wilds of Africa and the Middle East. He’s a casualty of patriotism, or, at the very least, a man who had no future and banked it all on serving his country. To Cred Stick Charlie, he’s a wounded soul who hides from Public scrutiny—a tragedy of the World as it is now and a cast off from humanity.

No matter how the two Edgerunners view the man, the conversation continues with Luther slowly winning him over. His name is Edgar but the “locals” call him The Alien. Whether Edgar cares for the moniker or not isn’t apparent. He’s cautious. He has lost faith in the World. It is to this casualty that Cred Stick Charlie latches onto. The Alien has a chance to do some good, to help a young boy in trouble. The gamble pays off. Fifty credits and Edgar will go into the building, to Rya Mendez’s conapt where he will see if she’s home. He’ll recon the area and see if there are any Reefers hanging around that the Edgerunners might have to contend with. Then he’ll reconnect with Charlie and Ghlahn at his tent to give his report. The fifty also buys his silence.

As far as the Reef is concerned, they claim the territory but not as an Enclave. There are frequent engagements between the Reef and local boosters, crime syndicates, and other powers in the area. Cops are practically non-existent so the homeless attempt to remain neutral in every way. The privileged living indoors have to deal with builder nanites tearing apart their insides of their buildings for materials to use elsewhere. Often, these inhabitants are aligning themselves with one faction or another just out of necessity. Without some affiliation, they become prey. Whether there are any Reef inside the building is yet to be seen. It’s a little after seven in the morning on a Sunday… Edgar is doubtful that he’ll run into any unless they’ve got business (personal or professional) with someone in the building that’s concluding or beginning. The Reef have their Enclave nearby and that’s where they would be residing. Less likely they are ambushed by an enemy within their walls.

If there are Reef present, The Alien will check and see if they want to meet with Luther. Edgar doesn’t want to know what about and he obviously doesn’t accept that it is related to the rescue of the boy.

“That’s one tall dude,” Blossom whistles past the stick protruding from her plump lips. She’s running three background apps as they sit in the air jeep watching the fixer and his CEE-metal companion work. One app is monitoring power usage in the area, another is keeping tabs on traffic cameras (though there aren’t any in the area, she’s hoping that she can spot anything that looks like trouble coming their way no matter the odds), and the third is scanning message boards and chat sites for any mention of the missing boy. She doesn’t need to monitor the work since the AI in her agent will notify her if any of her parameters are met. She can focus on the Real World instead.

“He is that,” Echo replies leaning forward and crossing her arms on the steering wheel. “Probably doesn’t blend in too well.”

Blossom laughs lightly. She’s seated in back of Echo on the bench seat with Bloodbank and Fixer while Casino is in the passenger seat up front. Glancing away from the working fixer, her attention is drawn to the medtech as he places his weapon on his seat. Rolling the sucker from her right cheek over to the left, she narrows her eyes behind her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“Expecting trouble, sweetcheeks?” she asks when he sets it on the seat next to him.

“They’re on the move,” Echo interrupts. Blossom quickly readjusts her focus and watches as Cred Stick Charlie and Ghlahn begin to make their way towards the jeep while the tall Frankenstein’s Monster begins hobbling off in the direction of the building.

“Looks like it worked,” the netrunner states.

“Whatever ‘it’ was,” Echo casts a sideways glance at Casino in an attempt to gauge his thoughts. She hasn’t known the mountain of a Solo for long but feels an irresistible draw to him. He’s moody, unpredictable, maybe even impulsive, but he’s a deep well and she recognizes a lot of emotion within him. Is he broken? Luke says she’s into projects. He’s warned her against those kinds of relationships many, many times. The funny thing about it? That kiss back in the alley… that’s as close to a relationship as she’s ever had. She’s been too afraid to open herself up to anyone in the Family, romantically, that is. Confusion over the way she feels about this brooding soldier floods her mind as she takes in his rough features. Why now? Why him? No answers are readily available.

Arriving at the air jeep, Charlie and Ghlahn rejoin their companions and report on their success. Now comes the waiting part. Every op has at least one period of time where this is the name of the game. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier. Minutes pass just watching The Alien—a name that Blossom thinks fitting—make his way down the street to the stoop. When he disappears inside, the tension in and around the vehicle is palpable. Nearly a half hour passes before Edgar hobbles out the door and down the stoop. This is the catalyst that sets Charlie and Ghlahn back in motion, returning to the homeless man’s hovel.

Timing their arrival at the tent so that they meet up with The Alien, Charlie offers a greeting with a nod of his head.

“Your Rya Mendez ain’t home,” Edgar rumbles through his burnt lips. “Some old lady was there. Named Marta. Weren’t no Reef inside to deal with. That Marta, she didn’t let me in and didn’t open the door wide enough for me to see past her. Couldn’t tell if there’s a kid in there. Sorry.”

Paying the man his fifty credits in cash, the pair of Edgerunners return to their companions and fill them in.

“So, we go pay this Marta a visit and see what we can learn, right?” Blossom remarks.

“Nicely?” Echo adds, moving from the driver’s seat so that Charlie can take possession once again. Standing in the misty morning air, wind gusting about her, the nomad leans down so she can hear what the others are saying. “I’m not keen on roughing up a gray-hair.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 07:43 AM PST)

Posted on 2019-04-05 at 14:51:34.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game

I've got three posts... I'm going to update the game tomorrow so, please post if you have not.

Posted on 2019-04-04 at 10:33:52.

Topic: Hidden Corruption Q&A

I am nothing if I am not an educator.

Posted on 2019-04-04 at 10:32:43.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A

Well done, son! Great writing. 

I'll wait to see what some of the others post before making mine.

Posted on 2019-04-04 at 10:31:45.

Topic: Hidden Corruption Q&A

Mustaches, mustache; tomato, tomato... https/

Looking forward to the posts. Bullies. 

Posted on 2019-04-02 at 23:07:42.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A

Great post, MagicMan! Tag, you two are It.

Posted on 2019-04-02 at 10:31:04.


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