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Ok, got my sheet done! I'm flexible on some details (thought a truck might be good for getting around), would welcome ideas or feedback. If I get a moment tomorrow I'll take a look at how Lemieux (Lem?) might relate to some of the others.
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Mar 26, 2014 02:16
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Just wanted to say that Thoomes pic is badass~
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Mar 26, 2014 03:07
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I am definitely going to need to see that Macaluso playbook.
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Mar 26, 2014 03:26
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The Sisters pre:The Sisters, the Swarm Look: Human-sized, Sleek Texture, Muttering Ambiance, Curious Stare Cool -1 Hard =0 Hot +1 Sharp +2 Weird +1 Moves Superorganism: "You” refers to the Nest, the nerve core that directs the swarm. You use the harm countdown clock for gangs, do not require stabilizing and cannot take debilities. If there is significant downtime (like, a couple of days at least) and you have what you need to thrive, heal 1-harm. Hand of the Swarm: When you direct a cluster toward a specific end, roll +sharp. On a 10+, you are without number and will stop for nothing; the Nest heals 1-harm. On a 7-9 choose 2: * Scattered and exhausted, this cluster is lost to you. * The nest takes 1-harm as additional resources are directed to the cluster. * The task is beyond your abilities, for the time being. * Chaos and entropy creeps in, threatening the hive. -1 ongoing to direct this cluster. On a 6 or less, all of the the above, or worse, MC's choice. We Are Legion: Your clusters are medium gangs (30 human sized organisms). Manipulator: You and your clusters can use gear and even weapons. When you first attempt to use an item or device, you do so under fire. They are somewhat unnerving, even with just a few, but can be downright unsettling with thirty of them standing together, staring at you intensely. Even when they are not speaking some have found that they can almost hear a murmuring, though perhaps that is just in their heads. Where Do You Live? We live in the Home. Of course we cannot tell you where that is. No one may visit the Home. No One. What keeps you up at night? We fear discovery of the Home, of something happening to our Home, of the loss of our Sisters. But we do not believe that is what you mean when you ask us this. What keeps us up at night? The background noise. Not something you hear with your ears, but something you hear with your mind.
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Mar 26, 2014 04:58
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Nest
By default you, occupy a nest where you brood and multiply (1-harm gang large 1-armor
immobile infamous hungry). You can spawn and control a partially-autonomous cluster
of 15 human-sized organisms (or a commensurate amount of smaller organisms) to serve
your needs beyond the confines of the hive (1-harm gang small 0-armor short-lived).
Then, choose two:
* Your nest is perfectly positioned to consume and expand, drop hungry.
* Your nest is concealed far away from prying eyes, drop infamous.
This makes my Nest (1-harm gang large 1-armor immobile)
My moves make my clusters (1-harm gang medium 0-armor short lived) but capable of using items/weapons/armor
Choose what your nest needs to thrive (choose 2 if hungry, otherwise 1):
* Minds + Bodies.
Choose and detail how you communicate with the outside world:
* An eerie choir of voices.
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I don't think that one's in the core or limited addition set. ...said the rear end in a top hat who tried to dump a space dolphin into the human island survival drama.
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Mar 26, 2014 05:26
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Captain Foo posted:I am definitely going to need to see that Macaluso playbook. Got it right here. I just realized that there's a couple different versions of the LE playbook collections from differing dates... https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B00B0wBV1UsSNEdVNWlfUlQ4YTA/edit?usp=sharing
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Mar 26, 2014 11:53
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The dolphin is amazing  I think it fits, there's lotsa water around anyways! Just remember that if silly humans bump into things with their noisy boats, it's not on porpoise!
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Mar 26, 2014 14:12
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hctibyllis posted:The dolphin is amazing HEY! My ships have shallow drafts; they're made for rivers! If she hits the keel it's her own fault! 
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Mar 26, 2014 15:52
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What keeps the Vice Admiral up at night? I have a vision of the world, of the way things out to be. I know the world'd be a better place if we brought order and discipline to all the chaos. But I'm not naive. I know there's going to be some folks who don't agree with the new regime. Some just want their own piece of the world, some are just violent bastards who enjoy the freedom to hurt whoever they can. Some will be convinced, but many more will have to just get swept away by the tide of change. I don't much enjoy the idea of a civilization built on the bones of its dissenters, but it must be done. I'll accept the burden when it comes, but until then, that is the thought that eats at the back of my brain on long sleepless nights.
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Mar 26, 2014 16:13
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I had a look at the Vin Diesel playbook and thought it was hilarious. It's mondo overpowered though, so extrapolation was required. Diesel, the Driver quote:Cool = 0, Hard = -1, Hot = +1, Sharp = +2, Weird = 0 Diesel got his name the same way he got his car - somebody thrust it at him during a gunfight. It was the same day, in fact. "Take these keys and loving go, you diesel covered gently caress!" That was the day he discovered diesel doesn't catch fire when shot at. He's driven a lot of cars since then and not one of them has run off of petrol. He's gotten real good at mechanics as well - he's no saavyhead, but they're few and far between - and has since found out that petrol rarely catches fire when shot at either, but gently caress it, he had a rep by then. Diesel has a rep as the coolest sonuvabitch behind the wheel on this whole goddamn island. He'll take any job as long as it pays and as long as it doesn't scratch up his rep. He gives preference to jobs that sound like they'd make a good story afterwards and this attitude has led him to more than his fair share of ramps over exploding tanker trucks, but he makes no bones about how much he enjoys the carnage. Drivers in general have a reputation for being cold, calculating fucks that'll bill you for the mils of fuel, nevermind bullet holes or danger pay. Diesel doesn't give a gently caress. If the job's dangerous, that just makes him look more awesome. Lately, he's been preferentially hanging around the Operator's crew. They seem to have their poo poo together and he's always been drawn to working with folks rather than doing the whole "lone gunman" act. Plus those guys seem loving cursed - barely a tank of fuel goes by before he gets CB'd that they need driving out of some hellhole or another. Usually post-haste before they get shot up or set on fire or eaten or something. poo poo's great. The other one Diesel's been going out of his way to see is the Saavyhead. Diesel's lifestyle means he goes through cars and kit faster than most and someone who can keep him burning rubber for another month is someone worth fostering good relations with. Besides, they always need something retrieving from somewhere. Where are you living? Diesel's a person of no fixed abode, considering his abode has wheels. He tries his best not to sleep in his car - he has an image to maintain - but there's precious few places on the Island he considers safe enough to leave his ride long enough to sleep. That's actually an arrangement he's trying to make at the moment. Get in with a crew or even a lone badass such that he has a place to crash. What keeps you up at night? Someone's loving following him. Past couple of months, he's been seeing this black pickup in his rear view mirror way the gently caress off in the distance. It happens at night, or dusk or dawn, or during mist. Whenever there's something that means he can't get a good look at it. He thought for the longest time that he was going crazy but now he's hearing engine noise and seeing tracks. There's definitely somebody following him - and they must be good, to keep up with him. He's been driving fast, going weird places, sleeping rough to try and lose his tail. Now he doesn't want to stay in one place too long. Not without someone there to keep watch. What if they catch up to him while he's sleeping?
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Mar 26, 2014 18:32
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Ebbs, Operator I'm a bastard. Possibly the nastiest piece o' work on this island. People don't often want to be around me. When I meet with people, its usually because of some job they want done. Everyone has work to be done, but not everyone can pay. Those that pay, I get the job done for them. I don't care much about what the job is, as long as they're paying. Money up front. My reputation is known throughout the island. I get the job done and your problems go away. That's what people want. They want their problems to go away. I'm the guy who makes their problems go away. Its especially true when I have to get violent on someone. Most people on the island take care of themselves, so they don't need someone to water their gardens or go fishing for them. Killing though, that's a different situation. Most people can't handle it. I can. And its usually other people that are the problem. Its a problem I'm more then qualified to handle. People ask me, how did I get this way. To most of them, I tell them to gently caress off. Those people who know me the best and there aren't many, they know I wasn't always like this. Long time ago, I had a soul and things were different. Back then Dahlia was in my life. She was my sweetheart. A beautiful woman with a brilliant mind. She had one problem though, she wanted to know what was out there beyond the horizon. I told her many times that she shouldn't think about such things. This is all there is, ain't nothing more. But she didn't listen to me. She made plans to go out beyond the horizon. She found people willing to go with her and a boat captain just as crazy as she was. She wanted me to go to, but even then I had jobs on the island. Duties to keep and gigs to fulfill. Well I wish I went with her when she went. I think it'd been better then the life I lead now. I watched her sail out to the horizon and disappear. Never saw her since. I changed after she left. I think a piece of me left with her, the good part of me. All that was left was this bastard before you now. My jobs went from protection to murder. I didn't think about the consequences of my actions, only that I got paid. A part of me still holds out hope that she'll come back to me. She'll sail back the same as she left. That's just wishful thinking though. She's not coming back. Knowing that I can only hope that I find some sign of what happened to her. Once I did. I found a bottle with a message in it. Somehow that bottle found its way to the shore of this island. It was from Dahlia. She wrote that they were doing well. They had sailed so far as to lose sight of the island. They hadn't found any sign of life yet. I still keep that message with me. I don't even know why, but I do. Since then I walk the shore line when I can scavenging on the beach. I tell people I do it to find salvage to sell. The real reason is the slim chance I'll find something from her. Who knows, maybe I will. What keeps you up at nights Many nights I find myself waking up in a cold sweat. Its a nightmare that keeps bothering me. Dahlia comes back to me. It ought to be a sweet dream, but when she comes back everything goes to poo poo. Some times she's some half fish person who can't breathe out of water. Other times she comes back looking like she did, but I get the disturbing feeling that its not Dahlia. And the worst dream I have is that she'll come back, see what I've become and well its not good. Where do you live? I set up my place near the shoreline. I found a cave that's above the tidal line on a rocky beach. I used wood and rocks to build an entrance and I've set up my home in the cave. Its not much of a home, but it keeps me near the shore. When I'm sleeping I make sure the entrance is secure and I set up a trap just in case intruders feel like busting in. Due to what I do, I also found a small hole out of the cave that leads into the interior of the island, in a stand of trees. I made it so its only accessible from the inside. Can't use it to get back into my place, unless you got a lot of time and something heavy to bust through the door. Ebbs, Operator Look: Man, utility wear, Worn face, cold eyes, sturdy body. Cool +2 Hard +1 Hot +1 Sharp 0 Weird -1 Moves: Moonlighting: you get 2-juggling. Whenever there’s a stretch of downtime in play, or between sessions, choose a number of your gigs to work. Choose no more than your juggling. Roll+cool. On a 10+, you get profit from all the gigs you chose. On a 7–9, you get profit from at least 1; if you chose more, you get catastrophe from 1 and profit from the rest. On a miss, catastrophe all around. e gigs you aren’t working give you neither profit nor catastrophe. Whenever you get a new gig, you also get +1juggling. Reputation: when you meet someone important (your call), roll+cool. On a hit, they’ve heard of you, and you say what they’ve heard; the MC will have them respond accordingly. On a 10+, you take +1forward for dealing with them as well. On a miss, they’ve heard of you, but the MC will decide what they’ve heard. Gigs Scavenging (1-barter / impoverished) Enforcement (1-barter / overthrown) Doing murders (3-barter / embattled) Obligation Gig Seeking answers (you get a clue / you chase a red herring) Wound Won't Heal from Serious poo poo. Permanently Gear 9mm (2-harm close loud) oddments worth 1-barter fashion suitable to your look, including at your option a piece worth 1-armor (you detail) DocBubonic fucked around with this message at 21:21 on Jul 30, 2014 |
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Mar 26, 2014 21:06
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Where do you live? Everybody knows those old stone faces are on the north shore. Well, they think it's the north shore. At the very least, that's where all the compasses point. What keeps you up at night? Some nights I don't sleep. I sit with my gods and talk to them about all manner of things. Most of it is normalspeak, but some concepts really only work with the idea glossy. They might be asleep but I figure they can hear me just fine. bonus points if you know what the idea glossy is
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Mar 26, 2014 21:38
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StringOfLetters posted:Keekiru, the Space Marine Mammal As cool as this, I think I'm going to decline the Space Marine Mammal. Feel free to submit something else, though  InfiniteJesters: Thanks for the link, I definitely have an older version of the LE playbooks. Macaluso is okay.
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Mar 26, 2014 23:01
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Father Keep, Hocus "Rejoice! Rejoice my Brothers! My Sisters! My neighbors, All! For we have been Chosen... Chosen by the Elders to survive, when all the world was cast into the Deep!" His voice rang out clear, even over the crashing of nearby waves. His body shook, wracked by conviction and palsy, clinging desperately to his perch atop the broken stone tower. Now a grand pulpit, it was once a lighthouse, guiding ships to the island back when it wasn't the small center of the world. Father Keep looked out over his congregation gathered on the beach below, staring into the ever murky ocean, as if reading his sermon from a teleprompter. "Rejoice and fear not, but do not sit idle. For though we may have found our way to this Ark of our time, safe from the swimming Beasts that seek to devour our Souls, we are not without trials and tribulations. The Elders test us with famine, with strife, with disease. For though we may hold what is worthy of Paradise, we will not see It rise again from the Depths until we are honed. This is a Burden we All share, Believers or not. So go forth, build up a strong Community, show our neighbors the Path through example. And Pray. Pray for our Dove and our Olive Branch, so we may know the End is over." Where are you living? When not out tending his flock and doing what he can to convert the island's other inhabitants, Father Keep can be found in the base of the old lighthouse, which has been patched into a livable shelter. There, he spends his time re-reading the books of his small library, or at least, the parts that are still legible. What, if anything, keeps you up at night? Nightmares, waking or otherwise, of the island finally succumbing to the Depths. Father Keep reassures himself that these are only lies planted by the Beasts, and yet he cannot help but look out at the sea with a sense of dread. There is more work to be done. Stats Name: Father Keep, the Hocus Look: Man, Scrounge Vestments, Determined Face, Dazed Eyes, Soft Body Cool=0 Hard+1 Hot-1 Sharp+1 Weird+2 Gear: Oddments worth 2-barter, including a small collection of holy texts and sci-fi books. Moves Fortunes: Fortune, surplus and want all depend on your followers. At the beginning of the session, roll+fortune. On a 10+, your followers have surplus. On a 7–9, they have surplus, but choose 1 want. On a miss, they are in want. If their surplus lists barter, like 1-barter or 2-barter, that’s your personal share. Charismatic: When you try to manipulate someone, roll+weird instead of roll+hot. Divine Protection: Your gods give you 1-armor. If you wear armor, use that instead, they don’t add. Followers Dedicated, psychic antenna, reliant, disdain luxury. Fortune+1 Surplus: 2-barter, augury Want: hunger, desperation, disease Hocus Special If you and another character have sex, you each hold 1. Either of you can spend your hold any time to help or interfere with the other, at a distance or despite any barriers that would normally prevent it. Edit: Forgot my Special Move. Also did some minor formatting. glitchwraith fucked around with this message at 14:40 on Mar 27, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 03:04
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Vernon: an Operator - What answers are you searching for? Have you ever found any of them? Sansa Merci, Queen of Wrecks and Wracks: a Hardholder - You were claimed as a prize once, and or all your efforts, you've only got something resembling civilization. Who's your top prize now? Philo: a Hoarder - That's a mighty impressive poster you have there. Got to be one of the largest prints of anything on the whole island. Who's on it? Vice Admiral Brinkman: a Touchstone - Who's most opposed to your message? Who's your strongest supporter? The Toyman: a Hoarder - Joe's Girl didn't want to give up her stash of 9s. Now you have them, to go nicely with the 5s, 7s, and 9s you already have. How'd that go down? Delta: a Driver - Who'd you give a free ride to? Albatross: a Hocus - Why haven't you been able to convince Keeler of the truth yet? Art: a Solace - Why does Bonner's settlement think they need more protection from you than the wolves? Thoomes: a Gunlugger - So, do you get along with Partridge these days, or what? Sethro: a Savvyhead - What'd you think of Jeet? Doc Wilhelm: an Angel - Medicine requires detachment, but who do you feel for? Anyone? Lemieux: a Savvyhead - You might be the go to guy if people need their problems with things taken care of...but who's your go to guy when you have problems with people? Noah: a Savvyhead - Last time you came up for air, someone was standing there, waiting for you. Who and why? Do you know? Scarlet & Paradox: a Brainer - If someone were to be hunting you, who would it be likely to be, hm? Koda: a Faceless - Winnower's clan is expanding into your forest, soon they'll claim your home as under their control. What then? The Natives: a Macaluso - Feels like Ba can see right through Frans, doesn't it? What are your options? The Sisters: a Swarm - Why may no one visit the Home? Ebbs: an Operator - Dahlia's gone. So now what's best in life? Father Keep: a Hocus - Praying for the Dove and Olive Branch sounds all well and good, but what happens when people like Puck and her crew show up?
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Mar 27, 2014 05:09
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Also, I am declining the Vin Diesel playbook, feel free to submit something else
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Mar 27, 2014 05:10
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Captain Foo posted:Also, I am declining the Vin Diesel playbook, feel free to submit something else I don't think he's using the Vin Diesel playbook. He's using the Driver skin as Vin Diesel.
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Mar 27, 2014 05:21
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Captain Foo posted:Sethro: a Savvyhead -
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Mar 27, 2014 05:25
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Captain Foo posted:The Toyman: a Hoarder - I was very nice, Mother always taught me to ask first. I think. It's fuzzy. Bad girl didn't want to share her toys. Weren't in the right boxes. Weren't in my boxes. Kids helped, they like my toys. Bean, Puck, Small Bart, that little one with the empty eyes. Don't know her name. Never told me, never told the others. Just comes to play. Threw rocks at the bad girl's hut, made sounds like a drum. Doom doom. Doom doo doom doom. I've heard that before. In the night. I think. It's fuzzy. Bad girl chased them, lots of bad words. Naughty. Naughty her, naughty them, naughty me. Pry away a piece of metal, slip through the hole. Find the pretty things, glittering. All the pockets, made just for them. All mine, now. All good, now. All happy, now. I think. It's fuzzy.
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Mar 27, 2014 05:46
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The Winnowers aren't the first to claim the forest. They will not be the first the forest claims. I am not some king or lord of these trees. I am just another denizen with my little lair up in the eaves. I would not try to evict a bear or wolf or deer. That would be a silly waste of breath. So I will not harm silly civilizeds who say they own some ground. I will watch them though. There are rules and there are limits. And always, always, there is danger. That does not mean we can't live together. Perhaps we can help each other as good neighbors should. But if they start to wage war on the trees, well. If they try to claim my territory, my hall of faces, well. Well. They will remember the old stories of forests and other wild places. Stories half forgotten but seared too deep in the bones of man to be lost entirely. They will remember the stories of children lost and eaten by witches. The stories of inviting groves filled with sunlight and cool water and death. The stories of spirits in pools who reward virtue with favor and deceit with doom. They will remember these stories because I will make them remember. Then I will make their lives a new story about the respect afforded to the woods. There will be some survivors.
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Mar 27, 2014 05:50
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Paris, the Battlebabe pre:
Battlebabe
Man, showy armor, handsome face, frosty eyes, slim body
Cool +3 Hard -2 Hot +1 Sharp +1 Weird +1
Visions of death: when you go into battle, roll+weird. On a 10+, name one
person who’ll die and one who’ll live. On a 7–9, name one person who’ll die OR
one person who’ll live. Don’t name a player’s character; name NPCs only.
The MC will make your vision come true, if it’s even remotely possible. On a
miss, you foresee your own death, and accordingly take -1 throughout the battle.
Ice cold: when you go aggro on an NPC, roll+cool instead of roll+hard.
When you go aggro on another player’s character, roll+Hx instead of roll+hard.
NOT TO BE hosed WITH: in battle, you count as a gang (3-harm gang small), with
armor according to the circumstances.
Custom Weapons: Beretta M93 Raffica (2-harm close/far reload +ap)
Kukri (3-harm [haft, heavy blade] hand)
Gear: 2 Custom Weapons
Oddments worth 2-barter
Immaculately-tailored Italian suit jacket with matching pants, red silk
shirt, tasteful neck scarf, concealed kevlar vest (2-armor)
Hx: If anything bad happened to 'em, I probably would've seen it. I see poo poo like that, sometimes. Well, I see people dyin'. Before it happens. Sometimes I see myself. So far it hasn't gone down like that, but it's only a matter of time, right? Gotta admit, it freaks me out sometimes. I'm not gonna let it get to me, though. I can't, I got a rep now. 'Mr. Freeze', 'Stone Face', one guy called me a 'stoic' once, whatever the gently caress that means. Basically when the poo poo's gone wrong, I face it head on, and don't give them anything to go on. I've been on this Island for, uhm. Hm. poo poo, I dunno. I've been here a while, man, I don't keep track of time. I swear, this place does that to ya. You just stop caring after a while. I feel, uh what's that word, 'listless.' Yeah, someone called me 'listless' once. Think it was the same fucker who called me 'stoic' too. Weird dude. I feel like I'm losing myself. What's keepin' me sane is some of the company around here, there are some primo girls here and there. 'Specially in this little village I've been kickin' around lately. They're givin' me a roof and somewhere soft to sleep. Not sure why they're doin' that, I don't really do much for them save for dealin' with the occasional psycho that comes around every so often. What keeps me up at night? The visions, mostly. Seeing people die before it happens is a real doozy, especially when you see yourself. Alaois fucked around with this message at 20:57 on Jan 18, 2015 |
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Mar 27, 2014 06:23
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Davin Valkri posted:I don't think he's using the Vin Diesel playbook. He's using the Driver skin as Vin Diesel. This. I just used the name as a jumping off point. Playing Literally Vin Diesel would be crazy
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Mar 27, 2014 08:50
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quote:Noah: a Savvyhead - Ah. That time. Was a particularly clear night, that one. Hunter's moon -- big loving round one castin' light as bright as false dawn. Calm seas, too: the reflection was perfect, cold stars hung in the black, floatin on black waves. Swimmin' in it was like you was lost in deep space. Yeah. gently caress it. Clear nights like that are a hell. I gets so twitchy I almost jump outta my skin. Sleep ain't happenin', on a night like that. So I went for one of my customary dives. Only I couldn't catch my breath for some reason. Happens, sometimes. You wanna free dive you get the technique for really stretching out your lungs, but when you're really twitchy sometimes the lungs don't stretch. So I wasn't down more than a couple minutes, maybe, but when I came up, I see him. He ain't even tryin' to stay hid, just standin' out there on the rocks in the moonlight in his long black frock coat and his bordello creepers and his black stovepipe hat, his hands on his hips, that smile on his face. Badman. You know Badman. Something of local curiosity, yeah? You wouldn't think a man who kills randomly would survive on a little island like this, but there he is, and his body count keeps going up. Folks got their own concerns, I guess, and they say Big Sven and his crew use him for contract jobs sometimes. Nobody wants to cross Big Sven and his crew and they definitely don't want to cross Badman. So you can understand, as soon as I came up and I see Badman I'm right back down again. Don't even take a full breath. Good thing, too, because the shotgun pellets hit the water about a second after I go under. Shotgun's a lovely thing for fighting a man under water, but I don't guess that's something Badman figured out because that's what he brought. That first shot was too close even considering, I got a zigzaggy scar on my left arm to remember it by. Anyway, I ain't great shakes in a fight but I ain't a fainting violet neither so I dive down deep and kind of re-orientate on him. Lucky its so bright because I can still kinda see him, a blurry figure standing stock still, holding that boomstick almost casual like. I got my harpoon gun but it ain't terribly accurate and it only got the one shot, but Badman's iron is of the two-barrelled hunting variety and he already spent half his load so I reckon we're fairly matched. I get down up against a rock and I push off with my legs, figuring I surface fast and I surprise him. Well, I don't think it did because he got a shot off the second my head broke water. Really, it's hard to say who shot first, but I know whose shot was on target: harpoon caught him full in the shoulder. And Badman, he just kinda looks at it for a couple seconds before he just starts laughing. Laughing, right? And then he kinda pushes the harpoon THROUGH his shoulder, clean out the other side, and I figure at this point I'm well and proper hosed. "I just wanted to see what you'd do," he says to me. No real emotion in his voice. Just matter of fact. And then he kinda shrugs and walks off. He's been back a couple other times. No guns. Brought me some liquor and some cigs. Think he wanted to show there was no hard feelings. Well, gently caress him anyway, but he ain't bad company. Baby Babbeh fucked around with this message at 09:50 on Mar 27, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 09:48
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Captain Foo posted:The Natives: a Macaluso - We must be subtle if we are not to reveal ourselves. Plant misleading evidence, make him look like he's trying to start an unwanted fight in front of the rest of the more peaceful outsiders and thus shame him, fake one insanity to conceal another... ...And if all else fails, kill him and pray no one notices. If they notice, they will ask questions. This is a scenario where all of us are ironically more vulnerable than one of us. If they ask questions, they will pry further and further into the nature of us, and into what we seek to accomplish. And if they carve their way into the island depths, they will find answers no being alive could possibly ever be prepared for.
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Mar 27, 2014 11:12
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Captain Foo posted:Father Keep: a Hocus - "Puck and his 'friends' have no doubt been a source of great strife. They remind us that, though we are Chosen, the sins of the past are alive and well. They threaten us with violence, make outrageous demands, and torment others on a whim. Despite our best efforts, they squander their precious Second Chance. While I hold out hope we may yet be able to Save a few, they remind us that not all Chosen will remain in the Elders' Graces. So, strengthen the Church. Strengthen the Community! Ban closer together, watch over each other, and protect each other as a Family. Show Puck and others that blindly follow the Beast's path that though we are the Elders' Lambs, we are each others' Lions! Spilling a Chosen's blood is a sin and a tragedy, so show mercy, but only when possible. It is better to Sacrifice blood that will not be cleansed, than that of a Believer or a True neighbor."
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Mar 27, 2014 13:13
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Captain Foo posted:Thoomes: a Gunlugger - Oh, sure, we get along great! I go round to his place, we have a few drinks, do some hunting, maybe a job or two... Y'know, sometimes he even pays me for the trouble. Funny guy. Hasn't told a lie since, I hear.
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Mar 27, 2014 13:26
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Captain Foo posted:Scarlet & Paradox: a Brainer - If someone were to be hunting you, who would it be likely to be, hm? Little feet which softly scamper, through the hills and over the heather, through my thoughts and over my shoulder, then waves receding, growing colder. I don't wonder if they're coming for me anymore, I can feel it. Ever since I left the third town, where I'd put down a father of two who'd kidnapped and culled the babes of other, less fortunate families during disgusting religious rituals. I did it in his house, while his wife and children were locked safely in another room. Having to listen to their sobs while remaining there (waiting to hear from the victims' spirits) was the hardest task I've been burdened with yet. Eventually, the children this man had slain responded to my calls, telling me of their deaths – making me feel what happened to them. Then mercifully, Paradox clacked his beak and shuffled his wings meaningfully. I undid the lock on their door quickly before sprinting off, back into the marshes. There was no way I could face them. However, instead of angry, confused villagers (who may not have known the pertinent details of my slayings), there soon came a set of others who sought after my trail: a group of three. He saw them first, and took to my shoulder, rubbing his feathers over my ears, nudging my mind towards the signs. I sensed they knew who I was, and more importantly what I was capable of. It was a shock to realize I might not be the only one with my 'condition'. These three, who follow me so frantically (hiding and biding their time for an ambush most likely), know of the Borderlands as well. They seem to have guides of their own, so why are they trying to catch me? Paradox grows restless as they draw closer. I'm trapped here in this cabin atop the cliff until poor, dead Lucie speaks (Dalmo's young victim). Blessedly, this had been a quite easily handled operation. The awful brute had been exiled from the nearby cityhold for his crime as a murderer (the girl had been much loved by the townspeople), and so I played my part of the Traveling Psychic again – a role that has earned me some renown. He let me in and I had him under my thumb before long, distracted enough to allow my patron bird the chance to follow through. With our focus combined, Dalmo's brains instantly became like frothing, overcooked soup in the stale bread bowl of his fat, ugly head. Still, Lucie has yet to speak to me, and my mysterious pursuers gain ground. It is likely a meeting with others of my kind is unavoidable - I don't care. I have to keep following Paradox; I have to get to this place where Jamel's spirit is felt so vividly. hctibyllis fucked around with this message at 18:51 on Mar 27, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 18:06
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Alas, dolphins! It is awfully demanding from setting. Well, it looks like there aren't enough submissions already, so how about, Dick, the Chopper quote:Look: Man, combat biker wear, strong face, weary eyes, wiry body. 1st advance: Daredevil Most thugs and violent assholes are lucky and short-sighted. You're born big - you beat people up when you feel like it. You find a gun washed up somewhere - you spray from the hip, and take what you want. Richard wasn't especially lucky. He was kinda bright, I guess. But his dad taught him how to practice, how to train - it's a little thing, but it makes all the difference. He was actually born on the Island. His dad had been there for-loving-ever, carved out a plot of land on the west side, runs a farm with a whole mess of fresh veggies all mixed together. While Richard was a kid, he built a mill out of scrap metal and native wood, used it to grind up grains for bread to keep people a little fuller during the dry seasons. Richard was there for the whole thing, helping his dad bolt and nail and inter-lock one piece at a time. Swamp-assed labor was a daily chore. When they finally baked probably the first fresh, local-grown loaf of bread the Island had ever seen, he could taste every minute of the last few years in it. Good poo poo. And he remembers seeing his dad get held up and robbed. Some sweaty, hairy fuckstick and a few goons with guns rolled in, and filled their bags up with his hard-earned food, and some of his prized, irreplaceable tools. His dad was really calm about the whole thing. They'd talked about this before - "Let them take what they want. Keep your hands up and don't try anything stupid. We can always get more. That's how the world works, kid." So, fine. Rich kept quiet, even though it hurt. But that sweaty gently caress went too far. He made his dad kneel down. That sweaty gently caress made him beg, and then kicked the poo poo out of him anyways. They didn't have to do that. Rich saw the old man actually tear up - first time in his life. Dad didn't talk much for a few weeks after that. Like any red-blooded young man with a home to defend, Rich was obsessed with vengeance for a while, but the old man kept in reined in. "That's just how it goes. You'll learn to live with it." gently caress that. Rich hit up the library - that is, the shack with some books in it. Most water-damaged, pages missing, two-thirds of a full encyclopedia across twenty years of editions, three "Q-R" but no "L." He wanted the deets from history. How did the hard-asses of yore pull it off? How did empires get started? Short version: hard work, training, no small amount of violence. Dudes in a formation conquering barbarians happened on every continent. Mounted warfare - cavalry - dominated. He watched The Godfather. You want to spear a fish? You pick out a rock in the shallows, make it your target, and keep jabbing until you obliterate it. Get the refraction angle down so you don't whiff above it. Learn how it feels to pierce the water and push through. Teach your arms and your brain to do that 'til it's perfect. Holy mackerel, it's dinner on your first or second stab from then on. You want to beat the poo poo out of someone? Don't just get pumped up and get angry. Lift heavy stuff 'til your arms get tougher. Check. Then learn you how to hit good. Punch the air. Punch a mat. Punch a goddamn tree. Don't stop when you make contact - put a dent in it. Snap a branch. Let your knuckles get bloody, they'll scab over harder. Get comfortable with the punch-fu, and you will lay taller and cockier motherfuckers flat in one good jab to the lungs. Genghis Motherfucking Khan was a nobody shepherd or something from the shittier part of Asia. He started with a few guys with bows and horses - he fought smart and worked hard, and he conquered Most of the Goddamn World from that. Dick's got a gun and a motorcycle, and his island is a helluva lot smaller than continental Asia. He started by getting some neighbors, some of his dad's farmhands, older folks and kids, and convincing them to practice some Militia homeland-defense stuff. Stand behind things. That little nub on the end of your barrel is there for a reason, poo poo-for-brains. You shoot, then you start shooting while he reloads. That kind of thing. It worked like magic. They kicked some rear end, they got a rep. Dick had to abandon his long-held fantasies of kicking that sweaty gently caress's teeth in and making him apologize through a bloody and mangled mouth, because he came by again, and one of Dick's buddies shot him through the heart. Awesome. A lot of them went back to farming, but Dick took some of the more enthusiastic guys - and persuaded some of the more talented guys - to keep up with the violence. Establish, like, a professional warrior class. Hit up some neighbors, near and far, and offer them protection in exchange for some fair Where do you live? Got a cozy cabin-fortress on a hill, in sight of the west coast. Near the old man's mill. It's the one with the helmets on sticks around it - that's where we'll put the heads if we need to collect any. We get a bonfire going most nights. Ask around if you can't find it, we ain't hiding. If you come by, kindly keep your weapons stowed and your hands in the open. What keeps you up at night? Sometimes Dick worries he might go to far. Might end up looking like that sweaty gently caress to some other kid when he needs to push someone back in line. Only looses a little sleep over that. And people come knocking, wanting help or judgement on some stupid poo poo in the middle of the night. He holds to a 24-hour readiness policy, and that's annoying as hell sometimes. StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 05:19 on Jul 10, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 18:09
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Captain Foo posted:
I'd say Dahlia's always going to be the best thing in my life. Until I know for sure she's gone, I still am gonna say she's my reason for living. Not what you're asking though is it. You want to know what's left in my life to keep me from pulling the trigger on myself. I got my reputation and I see myself as part of the community on this island. We all got our roles here and ain't no one else gonna fill my role in while I'm around. Don't think anyone would want to take my role either. And if it comes down to it and someone wants to takeover, I ain't gonna give it up easily. Wouldn't be the first rear end in a top hat to try to knock me off.
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Mar 27, 2014 19:48
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Captain Foo posted:Albatross: a Hocus - Keeler once asked me who and what and why me and mine worship. I invited him to come down to meet my gods. I was surprised when he showed up one night to do just that. We talked. He knows that my gods live. He hears them murmur in their sleep. But he says they're not gods. He says they are monsters. As if a god cannot be monstrous. He's trying to "save" me from them. But when they wake I will not be among those who need saving. We still meet. I think he's worthy to join my kin if he'll hear the truth. He thinks he can persuade me to abandon my gods. I think we are both finding our patience running out.
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Mar 27, 2014 19:56
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Captain Foo posted:Vernon: an Operator - Heh, figures you'd ask me that first. Well, it's nothin' terrible surprisin' I'm sure. Why are we here? Where did we come from? What's out there beyond the Veil? I can see the look in your eye tells me you've thought the same thing. Problem is, too many people on this Island think they got the answers. Most of them are fulla poo poo. I seen a few things myself though, things that just raise more questions than they settle. 'Bout a year or so, it's been. Was on walkabout down on the east shore, keepin' an eye for boats. I spotted one, bashed up on the rocks, just tiltin' back n' forth with the tide. Looks like it'd been there a bit, but I drew down and stuck to the weeds. Once it was clear nothin' was movin' in there, I headed in. *Vernon spits on the ground and eyes the nub of his cigarillo, tossing the butt away. His eyes get that faraway look, the look he gets whenever blood and murder are brought up* Must a been...twenty? thirty? of 'em. Wearin' uniforms. Some of them got crushed when the ship tore up on the rocks, but the rest of them were either riddled with bullet holes or chewed on. I figured I'd hit the jackpot, but no guns to be found. The cargo hold was just full of iron cages that looked like someone took a chainsaw to 'em. Each one had a little brass tag. "Hraesvelgr". *He lights another cigarillo and takes a deep draw, his eyes focusing again as he looks into yours* Now you tell me, what the gently caress was that all about? Dr. Clockwork fucked around with this message at 23:47 on Mar 27, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 21:44
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Davin Valkri posted:I don't think he's using the Vin Diesel playbook. He's using the Driver skin as Vin Diesel.  Diesel: a Driver - Is it ever better to walk? Dick: a Chopper - Alexi stood up to you. Bold or foolish? Respect him, or not? Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 22:36 on Mar 27, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 22:34
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Captain Foo posted:Sansa Merci, Queen of Wrecks and Wracks: a Hardholder - There's a man called Gregor, who heads up the squad that passes for my right hand around here. He's strong and brave and maybe the only man 'round here who even thinks that what I do might be possible. Everyone else, they go along with it 'cause I make 'em. With words or weapons, they're being dragged along for the fuckin' ride, ya hear? But Greggy... he believes. Or maybe he's good at pretending to, trying to bed me. Whatever. I'll take it, y'hear? 'specially since when we found him, he was a half-starved wretch cowering in some sort of tugboat. He'd eaten the others. He's my prize 'cause he proves that people can be something more than what they are at the worst. If he lost it... I dunno. I don't want to think about it. I got a town to manage.
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Mar 27, 2014 22:44
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Paris: a Battlebabe - You sure you don't know why you're being let stay?
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Mar 27, 2014 22:48
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Captain Foo posted:Dick: a Chopper - Definitely both, but a lot more stupid than brave. 'I found it first' isn't a strong claim, especially when we're going to put that scrap to good use and he's just hoarding it. Takes nuts to stand up when you're outnumbered, but getting your rear end kicked for no reason ain't a thing to be proud of. Minimal respect; I'll think more highly of him if he's smart enough to get in line after that. Still, he had a gun on the table and a knife in his boot. He didn't go for either, so we left him pretty much in one piece. Would've lost respect for the guy if he had thrown his idiot life away by drawing. They both matter, but brains are worth more than guts, if that's what you're asking. StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 23:05 on Mar 27, 2014 |
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Mar 27, 2014 22:52
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Captain Foo posted:Art: a Solace - Sometimes I get carried away. Sometimes I forget that my face and my size can scare some people and when you have someone like that screaming about wolves that look like angels and he's slamming his fists on a table so hard that the wood cracks... well. I don't blame them for being scared of me. I feel real bad about it. I don't like scaring people. Bonner and his men told me to leave and never come back. Not the first time, won't be the last. I packed up and moved on, but as I left I looked back and saw a wolf standing with its hand on the shoulder of Bonner's son, Brenner, a promising young man with a good heart. I was the only one who could see it. Two days later, Brenner was found with his neck broke. Of course they think I did it, the hulking lunatic raving about the end of the world. The wolves, you see, they don't want me dead, they want me ruined, discredited, alone in the world.
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Mar 28, 2014 02:34
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Captain Foo posted:The Sisters: a Swarm - The Sisters look to each other then at the questioner, and respond in a chorus. "Promise you won't tell? Home is a secret. Its location known only to us. For if another saw Home they may not understand. They may try to bring harm to Home, and to Us. That would not do. And so we are careful that no one knows where Home is, that no one sees Home. For without our Home, what are We?"
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Mar 28, 2014 02:40
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Captain Foo posted:Lemieux: a Savvyhead - Of course, the alternate answer is always "one of the other PC's... But since we don't know who that is yet it's more of a future "maybe". spectator fucked around with this message at 18:45 on Mar 28, 2014 |
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Mar 28, 2014 02:44
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Captain Foo posted:Philo: a Hoarder - Some sort of angel, I suppose; pale-clad, almost ethereal, she's affixed with a forever grin upon her face. She wears a pearl rosary, and her blond hair and short dress are swept by some unseen wind from below. There's mirth and embarrassment in that face - perhaps she is some sort of saint of some religion we cannot remember. Below, there's a word scrawled; Marilyn. I knew a Marilyn, once... Anyway, that's not quite it. There's something printed on the back. "BEATVSHOMOQUIINVENITSAPIENTIAM". I dunno, either. Asymmetrikon fucked around with this message at 04:41 on Mar 28, 2014 |
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Mar 28, 2014 04:35
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Captain Foo posted:Paris: a Battlebabe - Hehehe, well, I wouldn't say I don't have any guesses. The rest of these people can't handle a gun for poo poo. They're okay at hunting and scavenging 'n poo poo but an armed rear end in a top hat tryin'a kill 'em? No chance. Not sure how they made it out before I arrived. Maybe it's my magnetizing presence, just draws in the crazies. I'm a real fun guy to be around, too. The life of the goddamn party! Nobody can resist havin' a good time when I'm there. Maybe that's it, it's gotta be, right? Like I'm gonna be honest with myself here, I don't 'do' manual labor. It's not me. Gotta keep my hands nice and uncalloused. Lotta girls say my best feature is my hands. Like, eh, Hardy I think her name is? She says I'm her favorite. She ain't exactly my favorite, but whatever floats her boat and keeps me in good graces. There's this one guy, though, this one fuckin' guy. Think's he's King Desirable wanted poo poo by everyone on the island. Even goes by the froofiest name you've ever heard, uhhhhh poo poo, it was, poo poo it was Dovefeathers! Gives me the dickeye any time I'm anywhere near him and his "game area". Problem is, he also styles himself as the leader of the town. Not everyone takes him seriously, but enough people do to make him a real pain in the rear end. Dude's got it out for me, I swear. Now, despite what you may have heard, I'm not exactly huge on the whole 'confrontation' thing. Trouble just really sucks, so it's best to avoid it as long as possible, right? Alaois fucked around with this message at 06:38 on Mar 29, 2014 |
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Mar 28, 2014 05:27
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