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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: Eleventh hour
“Did you scare the good doctor away, Hiram?” Annabell enquired. The question was innocent enough, he reminded himself, for she could hardly help but have overheard at least part of the altercation outside, but something in her tone grated at him slightly- what could she have understood of Einhart’s intentions on calling on her at this unnatural hour?
As little as possible was the phantom’s hope, to his mind this was one of the great many things that a girl of her age had no business to understand. Putting the thought firmly from his mind, the spectre said his piece, flickering unsteadily as he hovered in the doorway, uncertain what her reaction might be.
“Annabell, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I can take care of your nightmares, if you’ll let me, in fact there’s no need for unpleasant dreams at all.”
An expression of obvious promise swept across Annabell’s face as he spoke, before a look almost of indifference set in, suggesting an unwillingness to believe an assurance she had doubtless heard many times before. Hiram was not altogether surprised to feel a flicker of genuine affection himself, some small fragment of the spectre’s fractured mind had already come to form some notion of the girl less as a patient and more as the fruition of that unspoken prayer for a son or daughter he had nurtured so many years ago. By what right should he have been denied a child, the splinter in his dead brain implored him, and the girl was surely as good a surrogate for the role as any other.
“I’ve heard that before you know,” she replied, in a tone suggesting reluctance to raise her hopes unduly, “they all say that, before they die.”
“I’m already dead, Annabell”, the spectre replied, an awkward smile creasing his face at her reminder of that unpleasant truth, “but I’m still offering you my help, if you’re willing to accept it.” The threat seemed a bizarre one, could she possibly be trying to intimidate him? Giving it no further mind, and wearying quickly of a conversation that was so rapidly sapping his energies, Hiram waited for her response.
OOC: Not my best post ever, I’ve been a bit rushed over the past week or so.
Might make a couple of edits tomorrow, if I have the time.
Yet another Ghost Speech roll being made.
Posted on 2008-01-16 at 00:35:31.
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: Breath Stealing
Could I spend another 5 BP to gain the Breath Stealing Numen (Asylum, p. 114)?
As I seem to be burning Essence fairly quickly thought it might be handy to have a means of regaining more than the standard 1/ day.
Posted on 2008-01-12 at 13:02:25.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: Can you not minister to a mind diseased?
Its appetite for terror sated, for the present at least, the spectre turned to glance back at the ward behind it, pleased to note that the light was still on. Willing itself to take form once more the spirit reshaped itself, emerging in the dim light first as a thin column of white smoke before thickening once more into the pale, ethereal brown-suited man it had worn earlier that afternoon.
***
Hiram made his way back down the corridor, the soles of his shoes never quite making contact with the panelled floor beneath his feet. Pausing for a moment to view the offending object with distaste, the phantom stepped over the sedative shot from where the new Head Doctor had flung it in his fright: unless Einhart recovered the presence of mind to retrieve it before the night was through it would no doubt raise some embarrassing questions when the cleaning staff discovered it there the following morning. Still, no matter, the hospital cared less for what the outside world, with which he came into contact but infrequently, might think of the institution than for the maintenance of good practice within his domain. He would count the job well done until such time as a second, final, lesson might be in order.
Peering through the door of Annabell’s room the phantom could perceive his patient sitting cross-legged on the floor, her attention absorbed on the wooden panels before her. Had she perhaps been alarmed by the disturbance outside, the dead psychologist could hardly help but wonder, certainly she could hardly help but have heard Einhart’s startled scream. For almost as long as he could remember, Hiram had sought to deal with his life by dividing it into neat compartments, until in death he now found himself unable to function save through one of two unconsciously crafted personas, and any cross-over could have unpleasant complications. Perhaps it would have been better to have extinguished the old man altogether, the ghost mused, though until now it had never been his habit to do much more than frighten and warn where he could. It was almost as though she was waiting for someone… something… the phantom decided, as he drew nearer, though surely she had no way of knowing that she would be called upon that evening by either Einhart or himself.
Affixing a gentle smile onto his apparition’s face, Hiram continued through the doorway, regretting somewhat that he was unable to knock and give his patient time to compose herself before entering. He hoped at least that there would be no repetition of the unpleasant scene that afternoon… not sure he wanted to deal with a second bout of tears that day.
Choosing his words carefully, reluctant to tax his strength any more than necessary through direct communication, the apparition began: “Annabell, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I can take care of your nightmares, if you’ll let me, in fact there’s no need for unpleasant dreams at all.”
OOC: That’s another 2 Essence spent (down to a total of 10) to make another couple of Ghost Speech rolls.
Posted on 2008-01-12 at 12:57:29.
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: Made the edit
Okay, edited my post to allow for Einhart’s reaction and move things on a bit.
Did you decide to make any changes to my new Numen? Hiram’s probably going to try to use it at some point over the next few rounds so it could be useful to know how it's going to work.
Posted on 2008-01-06 at 14:11:18.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: Fun with Ghost Speech
The afternoon drew slowly to a close, but Hiram cared little for its passage. A steady trickle of white-coated doctors, hospital staff and visitors made there way through the corridor as the day progressed, and the spectre monitored each dispassively as the hours wore on. Many, feeling a sudden chill as they walked past, or even through, the invisible phantom pulled coats or jackets tighter about their shoulders but they did nothing to disturb the peace of his ward and Hiram let them pass unhindered. Musing idly upon memories of its own tenure at the hospital the wraith was surprised at his recollection of a death in this wing some seven decades past. A burly, black-haired man had been wheeled in, fastened in a straight jacket, gibbering wildly about the devils that had infested his wife and children and screaming aloud for salvation. If hospital rumour was to be believed, the story went that he had beaten his family to death with a shovel, and, though properly sedated, the patient had been found dead in his cell by the end of the evening, his head beaten open against the far wall. The case had been judged suicide, an interpretation which the junior doctor had few qualms in accepting at the time… now, however, Hiram was not so sure. Accidents had happened over the years, one of the hospital porters had succumbed to a heart attack in the course of his duties and the black-haired man had been only one of seven patients to meet his end during the course of the phantom’s tenure alone. Yet Hiram had seen no sign of any ghostly presence save for his own and he could hardly help but question- where were those who by all rights should have found themselves likewise fettered and why had they been permitted to pass on while he found himself still chained to this place?
**
The last ebbs of daylight had darkened overhead and the ward all but emptied with the end of the working day when the spectre heard footsteps echo down the hallway once more. The German doctor, Einhart, was approaching, a small black case tucked under one arm, and an ugly grin upon his face as he approached Annabell’s room and to Hiram’s mind there could be no mistaking his intent.
Relishing the prospect of a confrontation, the phantom let his guise slip. The flesh of the affable, pale face he had worn heartbeats before shrivelled, bloated and atrophied in turn as his manifestation thickened, taking on the appearance of putrid flesh. A gaping, blood-spattered wound peeled open in the back of the apparition’s skull as its pupils swivelled backward, leaving the spectre’s eyes a stark and luminous white. The starched and spotless lab coat in which the doctor had been clad deteriorated about him, tattering as the material rotted and acquiring spatters of dirt, grime and drying gore. He had promised Einhart one warning, Hiram reminded himself, and though he would make certain of cutting out this human cancer before it could sully his beloved hospital further, he would not yet grant himself the pleasure of snuffing out the old man’s life.
Re-emerging into visibility a few feet in front of the German doctor, cutting him short as he approached Annabell’s door, the wraith lurched unsteadily towards Einhart. A malevolent snarl revealed yellowed teeth, lengthened to a mass of jagged fangs, as the apparition towered over its victim until he could feel its rancid, dead breath upon his face. “In my day we didn’t f*** with our patients, boy,” Hiram hissed and a fat, white maggot was dislodged from the phantom’s rotting lips as he spoke, falling on the lapel of Einhart’s jacket and writhing uncertainly at the feel of the strange texture.
***
[Insert Einhart’s reaction]
Chuckling unpleasantly, the sound a dry rasp in his dead throat, Hiram faded into invisibility once more. He had enjoyed the fear his appearance had provoked in the new Head Doctor, and if the warning had been insufficient to keep the old man on the straight and narrow then the spectre relished the prospect of driving his point home more forcefully. Whoever ran Longchester Hospital would honour their duties, make no mistake, and Hiram was there to police the line, to chastise and punish those who would bring shame on the old place.
Struck by a sudden whim, Hiram turned to glance back at his new patient’s room, checking to see if the light was still on. As the surge of malevolence which had animated his encounter with Einhart passed the manifestation softened, returning to the pale, wan apparition he had worn for most of the afternoon once more. The worm, thrashing on the floor where it had fallen from the doctor’s coat, reverted to a streak of luminescent white ectoplasm and slithered quickly across the floor to reunite with the heel of Hiram’s left shoe. Perhaps the ghost could turn its ethereal state to some advantage in mending Annabell’s mind: for if her bad dreams could be addressed then the uninterrupted sleep could only serve to add strength for the girl’s recovery. Tomorrow the ghost might even try to persuade her to take down some of those wretched drawings, he was certain that surrounding herself with such grotesque images could hardly prove conducive to good mental health.
Posted on 2008-01-01 at 13:28:51.
Edited on 2008-01-07 at 16:06:07 by Vorrioch
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: Dream Thief
Sent you a PM with Hiram's new Numen (which I'm calling Dream Thief). Hope it's all okay, if not then please feel free to make any changes.
All that Emotional Detachment does is reduce penalties caused by stress or dangerous circumstances (the example in the book is of operating on someone while a werewolf's trying to break into your car). It seemed appropriate for Hiram since he's probably going to care a lot less about the wellbeing of whoever he might currently be possessing, and be a lot more interested in just getting the job done, than that person probably would be themselves.
Posted on 2007-12-31 at 09:54:53.
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: De-merit?
Would it be okay for Hiram to switch his Direction Sense merit for a dot in Emotional Detachment (Asylum, p.50)? I guess the downside to getting new books over Christmas is that you’ll always find something that fits your character better. 
Also, if I remember correctly you decided that Hiram could buy new Numina for 5 BP each. Could I spend 5 now to buy one that will let him mess with people’s dreams? I’ve written up a description of what I’d like it to do… if this is okay then I’ll send it to you for any changes you might want to make. On the other hand, if you’d prefer me to leave the nightmares well alone then would it be okay to take Breath Stealing (Asylum, p. 114) instead?
Hope you all had a good Christmas and enjoy the New Year! 
Posted on 2007-12-30 at 23:23:08.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: A quick update
This is a dream I had about my family,” Annabell replied, a smile on her face as she glanced down at the picture. “You said you wanted to see my family and there she is.”
"There ‘she’ is?" Hiram wondered. Unless his patient was referring to one of the mangled corpses that littered the floor in her sketch then that would surely place the girl herself among their number... then the female figure standing over them was whom? Another of Annabell’s personas?
He was about to put a further question to her, requesting clarification, when the door abruptly swung open to reveal one of the hospital’s security guards. Watching with some interest as Annabell took care of the situation Hiram was surprised at the sudden confidence and resourcefulness his new patient had shown in taking charge of the problem at hand. If she could somehow direct the same energy toward resolving the issues that had placed her here and to her everyday life at the hospital then the phantom was certain that she would scarcely need his help at all. In any event the ghost made a quick note of the man’s face and the name on his badge… should Hiram grow bored or short of things to do later then perhaps the guard would take a tumble down one of the hospital’s stairways. If nothing else he should have known better than to shout “freak” at a patient in psychiatric care.
For the present, however, knowing full well that a sudden violent display would create more issues than it would resolve, and not trusting what Annabell’s reaction might be, the ghost allowed himself to be escorted out. Waiting until the pair had turned the corner of the hospital corridor Hiram stopped to check the watch that Sandra wore on her right wrist. “Twenty-seven minutes”, the phantom coldly informed her, in reference to the duration of her possession, “you might have time for lunch after all.” With that information imparted the spectre took leave of the student’s mind, permitting her to slump, shaking, to the floor. Invisible once more he set off after the security guard to the doctor’s office, curious to see if anything could be learned from the interview about to take place.
OOC: No need to apologise, that was cool. 
How did the exams go btw?
Posted on 2007-12-19 at 10:17:21.
Edited on 2007-12-19 at 18:24:46 by Vorrioch
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Topic: Return To Zork
Subject: Chop chop chop
Widen hole with axe.
Posted on 2007-12-16 at 00:12:02.
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Topic: You Filthy Little Thief!!!
Subject: One update as promised
After knocking three or four times on the office’s thin door Alexandro paused, were Ormander inside he would surely have heard already and, knowing full well the flimsy make of much of the surrounding building he had no desire to put its further resilience to the test. Turning back to recline against the far wall he settled to wait, arms folded over his mud-spattered breastplate, not wanting to move on and miss his former benefactor once he arrived.
Little more than a minute later Ormander turned the corner, in the company of four of his former foundlings. “Alexandro?” the old man called out. “Good to see you’ve arrived as well. I was just showing your brothers and sister around the house.” Judging from his tight breath and stooped back the years were finally beginning to catch up with the orphanage’s custodian, but what had Alexandro expected? It had been maybe a year since he was here last, for though his childhood had been pleasant enough, he had no particular desire to confront his past. Feeling a twinge of guilt for not having done more to seek the old man out and spared him the journey the warlord’s mark took his hand firmly. “It’s good to see you as well, Ormander” he replied, before turning to the rest of the old man’s companions to offer his greetings. “Alexandro!” Percifeer shouted, raising her hand in welcome and, though it must have been years since they had last spoken, her childhood friend instinctively returned it with a resounding clap. “Pio, how was the road?”, “Athur, how’s life been treating you?”, “Kastor, good to see you again,” he barked, greeting each in turn with a grin and a solid handshake.
Before long the group proceeded to Ormander’s office, Alexandro relieved to finally be able to since into a chair after his long journey. He listened patiently, hands folded together in a downward pointing “v” shape as the old man told his tale. If what Galios had to say was true, and of that Alexandro had little doubt, then both he and the orphanage would be in serious danger: having provoked the ire of a member of the Imperial Council. Ormander seemed adamant that he had been framed somehow and, as he sipped at the still steaming cup of tea the old man had poured for him, the veteran turned to contemplate the possibility. The orphanage building itself must be worth something now that it had been fixed up, the seal set on its wall perhaps even more and there was perhaps a hundred Guain of furnishings and weapons stowed about the place. He found it hard to believe that anyone would go to such trouble- crossing one of the Imperial Councillors no less- for such modest rewards however and the ornament that had been stolen must bear comparable value at least. Had the thief merely worn the strap to draw the blame away from whatever organisation he himself belonged to and distract the authorities, if so then the orphanage seemed a strange choice in comparison with any of the city’s many robber gangs. No, it seemed most likely, however unpleasant it might seem to admit it that it was indeed one of the orphanage’s charges, or more likely former charges, who had carried out the theft. Alexandro could remember that, along with magic and weapons training, Ormander had always encouraged his charges to take an interest in more thiefly pursuits- could recall from his own childhood the old man teaching another boy to pick a lock. Unpleasant as it seemed to admit it the most probable solution seemed that one of the others had perhaps taken the advice to heart a little too well and now the orphanage would pay the price. Choosing his words carefully, Alexandro set down the teacup and began to speak: “Ormander, I think you know that you can count on our help. But we need to know, are you certain that no one from the orphanage could have taken it? Has anyone left or gone missing since the theft?”
Posted on 2007-12-15 at 20:25:05.
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Topic: Return To Zork
Subject: ...
Search woodpile.
Posted on 2007-12-14 at 19:56:48.
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Topic: Away for the holidays
Subject: Away for the holidays
I'm heading back home this Sunday to spend Christmas with my family (that and finish writing up my dissertation) and probably won't be online to post that much over the following couple of weeks.
To keep from holding up anyone's game too much I'll try to punch in an update for each of the games I'm involved in before I go (Eol's Operation Persephone, Almerin's new D&D adventure and Skari-dono's WoD game). Chances are I should be able to put in a couple more posts as needed over the break as needed though it'll probably be better if you don't expect anything novel-length.
Also, I'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Yule or Happy Holidays as appropriate. 
Posted on 2007-12-14 at 18:32:10.
Edited on 2007-12-14 at 18:32:50 by Vorrioch
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: Not so family friendly?
“Now, Annabell, let me ask you something: could you draw me a picture of yourself with your father and mother and brother James? I’d like to see you all together as a family.”
Annabell stared blankly at Hiram, or rather the form he currently occupied, for a moment looking almost confused by his simple request. Finally she pointed at one of the pictures on the wall, depicting a young girl standing over a pool of gore and surrounded by blood-spattered corpses: “That’s me,” she replied nonchalantly, “and my family.”
The spectre’s first response was a twinge of indignant irritation, was the girl toying with him? He had squandered too much of his energies on her behalf already to put up with such childish games. But no, he reminded himself, her reaction, strange and macabre as it was, seemed serious enough. His hope had been to remind Annabell of the people waiting for her to make a recovery, to provide a glimpse into her family's dynamic and, with any luck, to serve as a the first step in replacing the wall covered with glaring monstrosities with something more likely to prove conducive to the restoration of good mental health. Clearly that was not going to happen as easily as he had thought.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Hiram began slowly, making an effort to keep a level tone, “your parents are both alive and well, as is your brother James. Why would you draw them like that?”
Struggling to believe he was still talking to the same uncertain, emotionally fragile girl as a few minutes earlier, the former psychologist reached for the obvious explanation from his medical training: she must be suffering from a multiple personality disorder, retreating behind the guise of another persona when forced to confront memories she found painful or disturbing. Another memory surfaced, awakened by the figures in the sketch she had just pointed out to him: snippets of radio bulletins over the past few weeks and a series of headlines from the local papers regarding a bizarre series of domestic murders. Could Annabell herself have been responsible in some way for her brother’s death, Hiram hypothesised, or did the drawing simply demonstrate in the most graphic possible sense that her family were dead to her? Either explanation would raise further questions before he could work his way to the heart of her problems, though perhaps it would be better to wait until another occasion to put them to her. The spectre could hardly help but be aware of the dangers of trying to push a patient too fast and had no desire to see Annabell close up to him before her disorder could be resolved.
Posted on 2007-12-14 at 18:22:34.
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: A couple of questions
1. Is the girl in Annabell's sketch holding a knife or any other sort of weapon over the bodies or is she just standing there?
2. Are the string of murders referenced in the pre-game teaser (Michelle Gardner's diary) common knowledge IC... say, something which might have been broadcast in the local news?
Posted on 2007-12-13 at 10:35:44.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: ...
“These are all nightmares I have had since I was moved here,” Annabell informed the spectre and Hiram followed her direction to scan the sketches that covered the wall behind him. Close to a score of grotesque, misshapen figures leered back from the girl’s pastel drawings and the phantom was unable to restrain a slight shudder. Here and there the ghastly apparitions seemed reminiscent of the ghost stories of his own boyhood- that blue, water-shrouded female figure could easily enough be mistaken for the haunt which had been said to prey on those that strayed too close to the river and that scythe-wielding scarecrow for the bogeyman of the slums to the south-west. In any event, Hiram reminded himself, he was too old by far for children’s stories and, still conscious of somehow being watched by dozens of graphite and pastel eyes, he forced himself to turn back to face Annabell as she continued her story.
“The dream I had last night was a really bad one,” Annabell went on, beginning to sob as she struggled to force the words. “In it, I knew I was going to die. I knew... and I couldn’t move. I was so scared.” She was crying now in earnest and the ghost was genuinely sorry to have upset her, if nothing else the show of sudden emotion was making him feel awkward, uncertain how to make her stop. “Annabell,” the doctor replied, a slightly flustered note in his otherwise fatherly tone, “whatever you saw, it was just a dream. None of it was real. Believe me, we’re going to get you through this.” Fumbling for something- anything- to make the crying stop Hiram tried to move the conversation on to the subject of her family: “say, why don’t you tell me a little about your parents. They must come and visit you here?”
When the sobbing finally ceased, none too soon for the phantom’s liking, Annabell began to answer his second question. Her father, it seemed, had responded to the tragedy by burying himself in work… not a bad way of dealing with things as far as Hiram was concerned, though it did nothing to provide the support needed to aid in his daughter’s recovery. Just then something strange seemed to come over the girl as her voice abruptly trailed off, her face suddenly vacant and lifeless. Fearing that she would collapse to the ground Hiram was about to burst from his seat to catch her when she fell, but Annabell remained standing. Her voice was suddenly very different… almost as though it came from an entirely different person. Had Scott and Sandra, the spectre could hardly help but wonder, borne the same empty, confused expression at the point of his own possession? Much as might irk him to admit it some other supernatural presence might indeed be possible, his own existence was itself testament to the fact. No, better by far to chalk it up to a sudden mood change, his newest patient was doubtless under a great deal of stress and erratic mood swings were to be expected as a result.
What about you Hiram?” she enquired, her voice suddenly upbeat, the tears still drying on her face. “Do you have any family or dreams you would like to share?” The question was unexpected but it seemed fair enough, Hiram was certainly in no position to demand that she answer his questions without revealing a little about himself in return.
“Well, I was married, quite some years ago,” the spirit began in a leisurely tone, checking the pockets of Sandra’s blazer for a cigarette pack that was, of course, not there. “We would have liked to have had a son or daughter. But, well, we don’t always get quite what we might wish for. My parents were good people, of course my father was never quite the same after the war… shell shock, you see.” Watching Annabell’s face closely for any hint of a reaction he went on, “I don’t dream much, haven’t since I passed on. It’s probably just as well, really, I have enough trouble remembering we’re not still living in the thirties as things are. I swear, every time someone turns on a radio I half expect to hear Stanley Baldwin’s voice.”
“Now, Annabell, let me ask you something: could you draw me a picture of yourself with your father and mother and brother James? I’d like to see you all together as a family.”
OOC: Having just read over the game thread again one thing I’ve noticed is that Hiram’s coming across as a somewhat more sympathetic character than I’d originally intended. Rest assured that he is still a fairly reprehensible creature (hence the low mortality)… it’s just his most human face (as a doctor and a family man) that’s come out in play so far.
Posted on 2007-12-11 at 23:57:21.
Edited on 2007-12-12 at 10:28:10 by Vorrioch
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Topic: You Filthy Little Thief!!!
Subject: An introduction
A lone figure, dusty and tired from two days’ hard riding, walked his weary horse through Drefast’s darkening streets. Standing maybe a finger’s breadth above six feet in height, a full half head beyond most of the thinning crowds going about the last of their daily business, Alexandro cuts an imposing figure, burly and broad-shouldered beneath his well-polished breastplate and steel pauldrons. The horse he leads, a grey gelding of similar proportions, panted heavily beneath its barding but its owner knew their destination was near and he and his mount both would need to wait a while before finding rest.
Finally they neared the old orphanage and, fully aware of the dubious nature of his immediate neighbourhood, the veteran allowed his hand to trail close over the pommel of the wicked-looking blade that hung by his side, jagged-edged and marred with pits of rust that even the most diligent polishing had proved insufficient to shift. Should any of the local ruffians or cut-throats mistake him for an easy mark then they would, no doubt, live to regret the indiscretion but better by far to demonstrate himself ready for a fight and hopefully dodge any unwelcome encounter. Whether such caution was well placed remained unclear, but the pair neared the orphanage building without incident. The ram of Drannon - pure silver, so the story went- shone feebly in the waning light overhead and Alexandro knew he was nearly back. Throwing a silver Jetra, along with his instructions that his horse be brushed down and given water, to one of the youths who let lingered on in the courtyard, Alexandro continued inside. Having heard the news that Ormander might be in some trouble he had come as quickly as he could, he owed the old man that much at least, and having finally reached his destination the soldier saw no reason to further tarry.
Striding briskly through the compound’s main building to Ormander’s office, for he knew the layout as well as any of the orphans whom he passed in the place’s long corridors, Alexandro knocked curtly at the door. It had been hard enough to wrangle even a few days’ leave from his company commander with the rumour of fresh Sendrian movements to the north and, having exhausted both himself and his mount on the sharp journey down he would near what his benefactor might require of him as soon as possible.
OOC: Not my best post ever, but hopefully it should do the job of introducing Alexandro and moving things along.
As things stand, I’m leaving it with Alexandro knocking at the door, should Ormander or anyone else answer it then he can respond from there.
Again, apologies for not updating earlier- I’ve been quite busy over the last couple of days.
Posted on 2007-12-09 at 22:52:01.
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Topic: Filthy Thief Q/A
Subject: Will update...
Tomorrow or on Monday at the latest.
I've got some work to finish tonight.
Posted on 2007-12-08 at 19:47:03.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: It's good to talk
Pausing briefly to ensure that the ward was otherwise unoccupied before making himself known, Hiram could see his new patient, Annabell, staring blankly into thin air. Her mind was in desperate need of rest, that much in plain, of his help in resolving the trauma that the incompetents and indolents who ran his hospital had allowed to fester for a decade and more. With nothing to gain by tarrying further the ghost announced his presence and, once invited to enter, raised one small white hand to turn the door handle and continue into the room.
“Hiram?” Annabell looked up in astonishment, and for the space of a few heartbeats the spectre struggled to comprehend why, “Hiram, you look ridiculous.” A prickle of slight irritation ran over the ghost and he felt Sandra stiffen slightly. No, he reminded himself, it was good that she could find a funny side to the situation, it would make it that much easier for her to open up to him and speed the progress of her counselling. Grinning back, he replied, “Simply put, my dear, it’s easier for me to talk this way. Next time I call by, it will probably be with someone else.” Drawing up a seat he continued, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear a little more about your dreams.”
OOC: Not sure if you want to handle this conversation on a blow by blow account or just tell me what happens overall.
If the latter then:
Hiram will ask Annabell a few more questions about her dreams, trying to find out what she sees when she has these nightmares. He’ll then try to move on to talk about her life at the hospital: how often she’s able to sleep, if she has any family or friends who visit her and what her family are like. If he gets the feeling that he’s brought up anything she’d rather not discuss then he’ll try to move the conversation on as quickly and smoothly as Sandra’s social attributes will allow.
Posted on 2007-12-07 at 22:06:46.
Edited on 2007-12-07 at 22:11:25 by Vorrioch
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: ...
Eh, it just seems to be going down rather quickly (my guess is that Hiram will have burnt 4-5 points by the end of the day) and, compared with most other supernaturals, it's going to difficult to replenish.
TBH I don't really much care, since dealing with scarce resources is part of the fun of playing a ghost, it just amused me at the time to cap the post off with a smiley.
Posted on 2007-12-07 at 19:35:19.
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Topic: What Dreams Become - Q/A
Subject: ...
As I understand things ghosts take the same types of damage as everyone else: bashing from other ghosts, lethal from weapons like enchanted swords and aggravated from blessed items.
Also, I just noticed that you haven't deducted the Essence point for possessing Sandra yet... Hiram should now be down to 13. 
Posted on 2007-12-07 at 12:29:59.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: Off we go then
The girl, Sandra, gasped in shock as Hiram’s icy fingers tightened about her mind, dropping the file she had been reading to the floor with an audible clatter. His spectral, flickering figure passed immediately into her form, caught within it as the ghost took control. It felt… strange to occupy living flesh once more, a heart beating in sudden terror at the unexplained, the ache of feet compressed into too-tight shoes, the antiseptic smell of the long, white hallway. One of the others… those he had not chosen, troubled him with some question, concerned it seemed for her companion‘s well being, “Sandra, are you all right?… Sandra?” The ghost fumbled for the words to form a muttered excuse, shocked in spite of himself at the high, girlish voice that issued from his throat, but it seemed sufficient to satisfy Diane’s curiosity. Having successfully disengaged from the rest of the group, he was soon making his way back down the corridor once more.
The shoes were an irritation, that much was becoming obvious, pinching the toes of each foot inward and with a high heel that seemed to leave him permanently off-balance as he teetered down the hallway. Physical discomfort aside, however, his choice seemed sound enough for it should be some time before a visiting intern would be missed and longer still before the hospital authorities troubled themselves to conduct any sort of concerted search. They were halfway back to the ward before it finally dawned on Hiram that his new means of transportation must be terrified, her mind still struggling feebly against its body’s usurpation. “Listen, my dear,” his voice resounded within her mind, strong and firmly indifferent, “I’m simply going to borrow you for the next hour. You’ll come to no harm and, who knows, you might even learn something. That’s why you’re here, to learn?” Finding the corridor deserted, presumably because most of the hospital staff must already have left for lunch, Hiram took the precaution of first glancing through the door's small window before raising a fist to knock twice. Finally finding his voice, a rich tenor which strained unnaturally at Sandra’s vocal cords, the phantom called out softly, “Annabell, it’s me, Hiram. Can I come in?”
OOC: If there is anyone about then Hiram will wait, discretely reading the file, until they’ve gone past before trying to draw Annabell’s attention.
Posted on 2007-12-03 at 22:08:44.
Edited on 2007-12-03 at 22:26:02 by Vorrioch
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Topic: Filthy Thief Q/A
Subject: Didn't spot that one
In that case I'll just scrap Improved Disarm altogether and take Cleave to replace it.
Also, would it be possible to buy a Shield of Faith potion (50 gp?) for my second magic item?
Posted on 2007-12-03 at 10:25:37.
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Topic: Filthy Thief Q/A
Subject: Suggestion
Stryke, you might want to take the Two-Weapon Fighting proficiency for your ugrosh.
The attack roll penalties ( -4/ -8 ) might be a bit steep otherwise. :-/
Posted on 2007-11-30 at 23:27:41.
Edited on 2007-11-30 at 23:28:28 by Vorrioch
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Topic: School is taking its toll
Subject: Ah, fair enough...
Hope your exams go well and, unless you're putting the game on a permanent hiatus, I'll still be interested in playing whenever you get back.
TBH with exams of my own to revise for and a dissertation to write I probably shouldn't be burning so much time online anyway.
Posted on 2007-11-26 at 20:07:36.
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Topic: What Dreams Become
Subject: Watching, waiting
A mere footstep behind the doctor’s right shoulder Hiram looked on, scanning each printed page in turn as the old man continued, an expression of pronounced distaste forming upon his face as he did so. The doctors of this present age must be either altogether contemptuous of the sufferings of their patients or simply incompetent beyond belief, for to have dragged out a case of insomnia- brought about by post-traumatic stress following her brother’s death if the phantom was any judge- for a decade and more was unforgivable. Worse yet Annabell’s mental infirmity could only have been exacerbated in the past years of sleep deprivation and by the tedious isolation which was an ever-present feature of institutional life. Still, where the slack practice and incessantly chattering machinery of this noisome present had failed, tradition’s guiding hand would be ready to unpick the damage done by their shortfall and no further time would be lost in setting the girl’s troubled mind on the right tracks once more before her prospects suffered further detriment.
“Tonight you are mine, Annabell,” the German doctor boasted and the spectre was struck once more with the sudden urge to snuff him out there and then. He had ministered to the hospital for too long now, leading it patiently through those dismal years when it seemed the world had abandoned all hope of recovery, to see the old place fall into the hands of a reptile like Einhart. And yet… he had promised himself that he would give the old man one final warning before he made his move. One way or another the new Head Doctor’s tenure would be a short one, of that much Hiram was certain.
Einhart, his academic curiousity apparently sated, finally moved to stir himself from the desk and the spirit saw no further reason for dalliance. Passing lightly through the thin, wood-panelled door the spectre began tracing its way down the hallway once more. A group of medical students, on a placement from the local university, were making their way through the corridors to lunch and Hiram chose to fasten upon the mind of the last of their number: a thin, freckled, young woman who walked nose down in one of that morning’s case files. Psychotherapy seemed the way to progress and, reluctant to further squander his sparse energies making direct contact with the living, he must possess a body to proceed.
OOC: Making a Possession roll on the medical student (Seven dice vs. Resolve and Composure). Should it succeed then he’ll make his way back to see Annabell if not he’ll wait for the next doctor to come past.
Posted on 2007-11-21 at 17:54:13.
Edited on 2007-11-21 at 18:29:13 by Vorrioch
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
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