|
Merryl Dawson - Outskirts of the town of Convoy It had been quite a trip, but your little group of faithful had finally arrived at your destination, the appropriately named town of Convoy. About an hour outside of Fleetwood one of the few major cities in what used to be Atlantica’s industrial belt. Even at the edges of town you could tell this place was dying out, you could feel it in the air. Just another deindustrialized town that still existed primarily because of inertia and not much else. The perfect place to find the sort of desperate people who might be receptive to the truth you brought. Robert Kurth - His Parent’s Basement, Kingvale It had been a trying few weeks, the cops were all over you after the incident at the facility, but it seemed even they were starting to accept the idea that it must be some sort of freak accident. Though you had heard a few rumors floating around town that the feds might be getting involved, not the Criminal Investigations Bureau, but the Office of Environmental Protection. If they were, they hadn’t bothered to come and interview you yet, though there was no way to know how long that would last (if there was something to the rumors). Still, you are left with a lot of power, a lot of possibility, and not much in the way of obligations. Your parents hadn’t really pushed you to go out and try and find a job yet, though they had been subtly hinting about talking with a shrink who specialized in dealing with trauma. Desdamona Kilgore - Suburbs of Empire City You’ve returned home for the first time in years, your parents home in the suburbs outside Empire City, your high school reunion was that evening, but that was a few hours away, and for the moment you have the house to yourself. Your parents were still at work, and your siblings had all moved out to college and lives of their own. What you want to do prior to the reunion is up to you. Ivar Isaksson - Apartment near Acadia University It had been a long time since you had been home, and it showed. There was a fine layer of dust on virtually everything, and a letter under your door from your landlord reminding you that you were a month behind and if you didn’t pay soon he was going to kick you out. You had some basic research materials on your targets, but getting it together combined with your trip had eaten up the last of your available funds. You needed some cash, and quickly. Anton McCormic - Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University You were lucky to have a room all to yourself. Of course as a senior at Acadia University, you got a pretty good number in the housing lottery, so with the extra funds from your scholarship you were able to afford one of the few singles on campus. Most of your peers had moved off campus by this point in their college career, which also helped. The privacy meant you could test out your new abilities in relative peace. It was strange, out of the blue one day it was like a book had opened in your head, and suddenly you saw the fundamental features of the world in a very different way. An infinite array of possibilities tumbled before you, you now had access to knowledge that could completely redefine everything we knew about everything. Magic was real, and you found yourself with an intuitive understanding of how to harness it to construct impossible devices. What limted you was material, just like any other piece of construction the quality of your work was one part skill and two parts ingredients. Your lack of resources meant you had nothing but junk when it came to ingredients and if you truly wanted to construct some of the grand designs that had floated through your head, you’d need to stock up, and that took money. Allen Cornell - McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven Sneaking into the junkyard had been easy enough. There was an opening in the fence fairly far from the entrance to the place, and the owner hadn’t checked the fensing in years. In no small part this was due to the fact that it was fairly well known that there was nothing overly valuable there to steal. Mostly it was just busted old appliances and other things would would eventually be sold in bulk to be melted down for raw materials. Of course you still had to be careful. Mr. McCready might be old and half-senile, but he had a reputation for shooting first and asking questions later when it came to trespassers. Still, you should be fine as long as you didn’t make a ton of noise and wake him up. Franklin Rynn - Sewers outside Lavell You make your way through the sewers, toting the ill-gotten goods of your rampage. If you keep going you’ll eventually reach the swamp north the city that the sewage system drains into. Clearly, your old life is over, the question now is how your new life will begin.
|
#
?
May 20, 2018 23:38
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 24, 2024 02:12 |
|
|
Post Format:quote:Name - Location Please include a copy of your sheet in your first post.
|
|
#
?
May 20, 2018 23:38
|
|
|
 Convoy The group wasn't large. About a dozen men and women, each one of them marked with a burned handprint on their heart courtesy of their leader. Their eyes feverish with faith, though none as burning as their leader. The woman, who had once been a brunette now had silver hair, though otherwise she still looked young. She inhaled deeply. "Smell the air, brothers and sisters in flame." Merryl, or Lady Lunargent spoke, as she motioned at the village. "It was built by greed, it was maintained by greed, and now, through greed, it rots away slowly. Its decaying corpse spreading despair and sin, each child leaving this place carrying it with them to the city. We shall build it a pyre, and the people within, perhaps shall spark as well, and bring forth purification, rather than putrification." She thought on how to start. "Let us draw their attention, we shall gather the wooden garbage, and their detritus, and with it, we shall make a bonfire this evening. This place has been bereft of joy, and many will flock to us. The warmth of our conviction shall bring them closer to us. Let us welcome them, learn about them, and speak them of purification. But do not yet share with them our noble end goal, and the Spark I was given by Asemir, the Sacred Flame. Only those who have embraced our cause must know." Try to get an 'event' going on, a bonfire with some of the trash and castoffs that might be found, with the cult 'cleaning' the street a bit, and generally seeming like they might be a good time, encouraging people to come there in a good mood, where we can try to find prime candidate for conversion. +4 Cult Leader, not yet using superpowers  (This but with silver flame instead of green.) quote:Cult Leader [+4] Lunargent grew up within a cult, and her father was one of its leaders. Between her knowledge of manipumation, her manic devotion and the use of her powers to further impress would be followers, she usually manages to gather a flock wherever there are people who are dissatisfied with the state of the world. Shogeton fucked around with this message at 17:59 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 00:08
|
|
|
 @ Sewers outside Lavell, 0/3 BP His world is pain. His world is rage. His world is a bestial thumping in his head. His thoughts, for what they were, return to his head. The monstrous reptilian slows its trundling rampage through the shallow, pungent waters and dreck that make up the sewage waterways under Lavell. The beast has kept a tight grip on a water-touched, crumpled bundle of notes and materials close in the crook of its trunk-sized right arm and heaving chest. With none of the animal! calling for his flight at last, Rynn finally has a moment to process his whereabouts. To process what has happened. Everything did, after all, happen in a haze of drug and hormone induced fury. He looks down at the bundle of notes, the canisters of mutagens and muscle enhancers in their carryall. He remembers again how he had stormed out of the labs, doped to the gills with the experimental genetic muscle and graft therapies. Walls falling to his crashing wake of shoulder-first barges and the occasional angry roar and sweep of an arm. The occasional loud blasts of gunfire and the terrified screams of people he had worked with, but who's names and faces were oddly enough failing to come to his mind. Shards of lead had been lodged under thick, green scales, and into still burning flesh. The pain barely registered. No wonder, considering the sheer thickness of his new hide, the sheer mass of his bulk. Rynn tries to remember more, but his mind begins to wander. He barely remembers, for instance, how he found the sewers in the first place. Or how long he had walked through its murky, almost claustrophobic confines, or even if he managed to keep a straight path rather than to meander around in circles sometime in the process. His mind begins to wander. He is hungry. Rynn lets out a bestial growl as he feels the need to feed. Yes, he needed to sate his hunger right now. He could find a safe place after. Lay low. Set up a lab. He still needs to destroy Lyman Pharmaceuticals, but not now. Now he is hungry. There should be a slaughterhouse a ways north and west outside of Lavell. He remembers that much. Rynn's left hand settles into the water-drenched murk outside of the sewage pipe, nearly sinking into the ground until his webbed, meaty hand spreads out to enlarge its surface. His lizard-like head raises, nostrils flaring and drawing air over his open maw to taste. That way. Might as well start to invoke Komodo's Single-minded [-2]. His flight left him hungry and wanting. Not much in Qualities that could help him at present. Dinictus posted:Real name: Franklin Delano Rynn Dinictus fucked around with this message at 15:16 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 01:02
|
|
|
Alan Cornell - McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven McCready was a crazy and nasty son of a bitch, or at least as fast as Alan was concerned. He had experienced the pleasure of his company in the past when he had gone to the junkyard to dispose of old office equipment. The old bastard had forgotten to give him his receipt, then forgotten that he had paid and made him pay again while yelling at him like a rabid raccoon the entire time. The memory of it made Alan scowl. Still he figured that tonight would settle that 'debt' at least. Alan had not been a perfect angel, and of course had trespassed before in his college years. Doing it sober though was a novel change. What Alan really needed to do was to get used to his new ability. While he had freaked out for a while initially, partly over the fact he was a freak and also because fridges were not cheap to replace, now he was focused on figuring out what he could do. The first thing Alan needed to do was to get used to it, and to see if he could cover his face enough to confuse security cameras. He also needed to get used to making some sort of a weapon, to defend himself when the corps came for him. Alan was sure Nova would gun for him if he got found out, and Lyman Pharma would probably take interest as well. He had no desire to end up restrained in a lab for either. Alan walked further away from McCready's hut and down the end where the cars got piled up. There he found one which was not too rusted or disgusting and tried to see if he could absorb it and shape it into some sort of armor, and a weapon. Trying to use a car to make some armor and a makeshift weapon, projectile ideally in Alan's mind. Technografting [+2] obviously, but I think Clever [+2] could work if you are happy to add it on. Character Sheet posted:Mundane Qualities
|
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 04:07
|
|
|
 Robert Kurth - His Parent’s Basement, Kingvale  Robert slid into his jeans and pulled a hoodie over his t-shirt. He had spent some time thinking and now it was time to go for a walk. His mom must have been at the store and his dad at work. It was bright outside. The sunlight slightly stung his eyes, he grabbed a pair of shades off of the kitchen counter and left. He subtly engaged the locking mechanism on the door with his newfound power and it slid into place with a muffled click. He had practiced that for a bit. A few other odds and ends. The toaster hadn't fared well from Robert's groping, but dad said it was bad electrical wiring in the house and it was soon forgotten. Outside. Bright... Ugh. The world sort of hummed and buzzed. Sort of. Then it went away. Powerlines and the buildings felt somehow in his bones. Like an itch that went away. It wasn't something heard or exactly felt but that's as close as he could think of. Weird. It would be back. The hoodie was pulled up and Robert began walking. Thought about everything, his life and the strange twist that brought him to this. Whatever this was. He could feel it growing but he could control it. Licking his lips, he found himself thirsty. The street wasn't busy and soon he found himself in front of a vending machine. gently caress. He had forgotten his wallet. Robert looked around the street. It was quiet. Closing his eyes, he placed his hand on the machine. There had to be a button or switch that would dispense a drink for him in there somewhere. All he had to do it touch them together briefly and he would have a sweet cool drink. Then he could figure out what he wanted to do next. Using Engineering Knowledge [+2] to sort of know where to feel with Electromagnatism Manipulation [+2] and win that sweet sweet soda. Sort of a setup then knock down in task. I am Communist posted:Real Name: Robert Thomas Kurth I am Communist fucked around with this message at 16:08 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 04:22
|
|
|
Desdemona Kilgore - Suburbs of Empire City "Dessssdyyy!" Her mom had squealed as soon as she had phoned home for the first time in month to announce her arrival. Desdemona hated the nickname, almost as much as she hated her full given one. She had scanned her parents' Panopti-book account to get a good idea of what she was in for. Her mother had been holding up well; tidal-waves of wine aside, she had stayed relatively healthy and whatever surgeon she had gotten to inject neurotoxin into her face had nailed the forever smiling, mildly wrinkled plastic doll look whereas many of her peers that had gone for budget options looked closer to something that lurched up at you on a ghost train. The neighborhood looked much the same, the yards impeccably kept by the abused undocumented immigrants, and driveways filled with SUVs and sports cars, one for every member of the household 16 and up. Not that she could complain, she herself was now driving something bright red with a stupid amount of horsepower that screamed "Hello I am under 30 and am massively overpaid." She pulled into the drive, strode up to the door, entered and instantly regretted it. Lying on the living room floor was the dog from her childhood, still alive and obviously wishing it wasn't. Obviously the maid had been given a day off or some dumb bullshit like that because it smelled like he should've been let out, or dragged out, earlier. Welcome home indeed. The situation resolved, she went up to her old room, now mostly an office space with a bed in it, she had been told. The suitcase hit the ground..."Arrgggghhh." It had been turned into a shrine. There were pictures of her from all stages of life, sonograms, baby pics, school plays, graduation photos, pictures of her in uniform. Underneath them all was a artisinal bespoke piece of driftwood on which "~Baby Girl~" had been carved. It looked like they had gotten it shortly after she first deployed, since her birth year had been inscribed underneath, and a dash. Presumably they were just hedging their bets and would just fill in the current year if she didn't come back. Buy a memorial ahead of time, before you need it, that scanned to their thinking perfectly. She looked through the refrigerator. Dad had had a health scare a couple of years ago and all the red meat had been replaced with weird exotic vegetables with too many spikes you bought at organic bodegas for 10 dollars a pound. Mom's booze on the left. Seemed like a lot of dry whites, mid range. Desdemona thought it would be less shameful than just boxwine but it was still pretty morbid in their quantity. Desdemona pondered what she was going to do before the reunion, and decides, well, best to research the opposition. She opens up social media profiles of people she'd ignored for the past 10 years. She expected doctors and lawyers and people cooing about their gross newborns, but it was time to get specifics. A gameplan was needed. Seeing who in this town, both in general and going to the reunion, is worth talking to/might make a good future contact. Desdemona is experimenting to see if her newfound abilities translate into...what did nerds 10 years ago call it, ah yes, "Cyber-space". Super-Charisma+2 to see what mental effects I can apply via tweet/like etc. quote:Mundane Qualities Ronwayne fucked around with this message at 00:24 on May 22, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 06:34
|
|
|
Anton McCormic - Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University Curious. Infinitely curious. Anton watched, an eyebrow quizzically raised as a tiny hexapod he had glued together from three staples vibrated in a coordinated fashion in such a way as to move forward. In itself, it would not have been anything even the least bit interesting. However, the fact that it had no readily discernible power source attached to it was, to put it bluntly, miraculous. As was the fact that when he had woken up that morning, he had the idea to do this stuck in his mind. He should've been shocked it worked at all. But somehow, it working felt so obvious now that he could not manifest those thoughts. Of course, there were philosophical implications too. Then again, Anton never really bothered that much with philosophy because he knew it to be vacuous bullshit for soft-minded morons who wanted to feel profound without actually ever contributing anything. He snorted in a very smug, highly unpleasant way. Perhaps the World had always been this way? Perhaps they lived in a simulation and someone was messing with the code? Whatever it was, none of it mattered. Regardless if this was dream or reality, that did not affect his plans in the slightest so why should he care? Those plans being the sculpting of he World into a far more sensible sort of place. With careful maneuvering it ought to be simple enough for a person like him. But before he could start to properly enforce said plans, he would have to start smaller. Build a base of operations, a foundation. And gather resources too, since those he could not summon from the ether, regrettably enough. He should probably start with gathering money, since that was rather ephemeral in nature when compared to physical materials. Easier to steal from bank accounts than to loot a scrapyard while avoiding notice. After he had monetary assets, it would be far easier to procure the resources he wanted for himself. It was a clever plan, but the plot did have a slight complication. Mainly that he was neither a thief or spy, and going around trying to pry people's info was just liable to get him busted. However... Anton's eyes drifted back to the small hexapod, as well as the strange, sigil decorated circle he had drawn on some graph paper to infuse said hexapod with the power it needed to move. Yes, he would not have to spy himself, now would he? He knew he could, with a variety of means, tap into strange forces he could imagine but that were yet unnamed (He really should document this all down and write a Grimoire of magical classifications one of theses days, Anton reflected) to infuse a variety of objects such as coils, crystals or chemical batteries with magical power, or thaumic energy as he had decided to call it. Thaumic energy, then, dependent on how it was stored, could be channeled via metaphysical constructs (he had dubbed these spells if performed by hand and enchantments if engraved upon substrates) to achieve different ends. Small drones required little power, small drones on quiet wings of cloth that could hide and stalk, creep into apartments and buildings and hide themselves. Equipped with glass lenses enchanted so as to become functioning cameras, and antennae to send that data right to his computer via a magitechnical adapter... Yes, in such a way he could gather loads of data, and make loads of money. And even if one of these creatures was found, they would not actually have any mechanical or electronic parts that would function with the incomplete knowledge the plebes had. They would seem like naught but scrap to everyone else. Brilliant. OOC: Schemer [+4] to steal a variety of personal and banking information (which will naturally be properly laundered and bounced around so as to not be caught) from a bunch of people with tiny flying, lens equipped robits built with Magitech Prodigy [+2]. Resource Dependent [-2] also likely applies since these are largely built from pluck and scrap, though perhaps Academy Access [+2] can be used to take/craft a bunch of office supplies and lenses and such. Theantero posted:Real name: Anton McCormick Theantero fucked around with this message at 08:30 on May 21, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 08:26
|
|
|
ivar Isaksson Money. Or to be clearer, the lack thereof. It doomed empires and toppled nations, and while the consequences right now weren't that earthshattering, he'd still need to scrounge some up. He stares at the rope laying unassumingly on the table. The people who made it would have solved the problem in a very direct way, jumping on a longboat to go and plunder some defenseless monastery. Too bad it isn't a workable option these days-or is it? On the road to get to the campus, there is a small, always-open convenience store. The constant trickle of students should ensure that the cash register is well stocked, and it's not like the police would connect an attack from an unusually large and violent animal to petty theft. Ivar has experimented with the rope, and he's pretty sure that nobody would be so foolish as to stand their ground in front of him. Once everybody has fled, cover up the theft with some wanton destruction and there's next month's rent paid for. Using Avatar of the Wolf God [+2] to steal some cash from a convenience store. The plan is to scare everybody away, smash everywhere that looks like it could hide a camera, then take the money. quote:Mundane Qualities:
|
|
#
?
May 21, 2018 23:52
|
|
|
Merryl Dawson - Convoy Your followers set to work, driven forward by your speech. You set up camp in an empty lot in a particular decomposing portion of town and set to work preparing for the event. Your follower clean up the debris that had accumulated on the lot, separating out what could be burned and what couldn’t. To say this area was down and out was an understatement, but your groups actions was drawing attention of the residents who were there. They were a group devoid of hope, and it was obvious more than a few of them were regular users of various narcotics. They gathered to see what was happening, any interruption of their lives a welcome one. You have a small crowd gathering. Franklin Delano Rynn - Sewers outside Lavell You attempt to make your way towards where you think the slaughterhouse might be, the problem being you had only ever seen in from your car, and now you were navigating from the sewer system on foot. Your new senses are overwhelming, suddenly gaining such an intense sense of smell leaves you disoriented, combined with not really being quiet sure of your location when you started it makes locating a place you’d only ever passed impossible. After an hour of trudging around you are thoroughly lost. However, despite not knowing where you were, you do manage to catch the scent of something delicious. Looking around you find you’re in a suburban area near the local swamps, and from the smell it would appear as if someone were having a barbeque, the tantalizing smell of cooking meat dances across your nostrils. Enjoy your BP. Alan Cornell - McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven You place your hands on the husk of what had once been a car reaching out to the strange power that now was a part of you. Absorbing the car was a truly disorienting sensation, only your previous attempt had been anywhere close. It wasn’t painful, just… strange, there weren’t really words to describe it. When it was over the car was gone, and you were different. You were larger than you were before, your skin felt thicker and plate-like structures underneath at key locations.. You felt heavy and physically powerful in a way you hadn’t before, perhaps a side effect of the strength necessary to be able to stand even while covered with who knows how many hundreds of pounds of steel and aluminium. However, your range of movement felt a bit limited, and whatever weapon you were imagining did not appear. It would appear that your power was affected by the quality of the material you absorbed. Your in-fairly good condition refrigerator had given you a better result than a junked car. Still, even if you couldn’t be sure your new form would stop bullets, you’d sure as hell be able to beat the tar out of anyone who tried to get in a fist fight with you. Robert Kurth - Out and about, Kingvale You focus in, grasping out with your new sense for the guts of the device, with a little help of your general knowledge of how these devices are supposed to be constructed you manage to luck your way into hitting the right internal switch. There is a clunk and a nice cold soda is sitting in the receptacle. Desdemona Kilgore - Suburbs of Empire City Your searches showed about what you expected. Your classmates for the most part were exactly what you’d expect the children of privilege to be. Lots of well paid professionals, a small handful had lucked into careers in finance or the upper echelons of business and would no doubt be considered as if not more successful than you. Of course it was an incomplete picture, most but all of your classmates had profiles of varying degrees of openness, but a few did not or had their settings such that you couldn’t really determine much. As for your powers, it would appear, that text was not a very conducive medium for expressing your power. The responses to your tests were about what you’d expect. It would appear that meeting you in-person was required to get the full effect. Anton McCormic - Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University Your drones are crude things, it’s difficult to assemble an articulated leg from loose office supplies after all. Still they were small and quiet, and they could record a small amount of video. However, though they were minimally fit to quietly surveill, infiltration was likely out of their reach. For to be as quiet and small enough to be useful with the supplies and time you had you had to sacrifice speed and dexterity. If you were in a room to deploy them undetected you could likely rely on them to remain that way for some time, but the tiny golems would not be getting anywhere that required getting past a door, window, screen, or any other obstruction. You have small number of very primitive spy cams. Not bad for paperclips and other loose office supplies. You can deploy them and they’ll hide, but they won’t really be able to get past simple obstacles without being noticed. Also enjoy your BP. Ivar Isaksson You make your raid on the store, the sight of a huge animal sends the people inside into a panic, and they run out screaming. It’s a virtual certainty the police and probably animal control are being called right now. However, as you, still in your wolf form, make your way behind the counter you discover a kink in your plan. There’s a security camera, it’s fairly high up the wall, high enough that it’d be unlikely in the extreme that some random animal attack would result in its destruction. The cash register containing the prize of your effort is squarely within its field of view. You don’t have long to decide what to do, the cops will be here soon, and they may be more willing to fire on an animal than a person. Ya, you managed roll pretty low, so I figured a twist like this would be more interesting than the shop being closed or the shopkeeper actually having a shotgun behind the counter.
|
|
#
?
May 23, 2018 00:16
|
|
|
Anton McCormic - Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University BP - 1 It was about he had expected. A number of drones, silent but fairly clumsy, with good enough resolution to make spying actually worth his time. An astounding success, taken that he had very little to work with. Now all he had to do was to walk around the University on made-up business, and perhaps even some actual business, and plant the drones in the administrative facilities. Enough financial data went through the University coffers that he should be able to leech off quite a bit for himself. Hell, he could probably even pin the blame on some low-level plebe that worked there to hide the trail in case the embezzlement was ever found out. Anton went through his plot, and made a detailed plan for how to plant the drones for optimal data capture ratio. OOC: Schemer [+4] and Academy Access [+2] to plant the drones in the University administration to steal passwords and other sensitive data so that I can embezzle their funds
|
|
#
?
May 23, 2018 00:32
|
|
|
Robert Kurth - Out and About,, Kingvale Sweet. The taste. Taking what he wanted. The rush of it and his brain rewarding him. The cool drink sated one thirst. He started walking, looking around. An ATM would be ideal, maybe he could force it mechanically to dispense cash, or alternatively tear it apart? He crushed the can mentally, the tin/aluminum(?) compressing into a perfectly flat disc. Different metals felt different but he didn't know what each one was. Also what his range of feeling was. He shook his head. He could go to a museum or science museum and look at the earth exhibits. Test out ferrous and non-ferrous materials. Maybe he could tune this to detect gold! Steal all the copper pipes from housing projects! That would be sweet he reflected. But first he needed cash to get a ticket. New clothes. Maybe give his folks some cash for rent. Robert continued walking. A smile forming on his face. Using Criminal Knowledge [+2] to scope out and case ATM locations or targets he could steal money from. Armored car making a pickup? Gas station in a neighborhood the cops dont care about? I am Communist fucked around with this message at 16:07 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2018 00:34
|
|
|
Convoy Lady Lunargent waited a bit, making sure that most people that were to show up had shown up, giving her cultists some time to welcome them, get them in a good and receptive mood. she took a deep breath, imagining the fire filling her lungs, so she could speak the Truths to these people, and ignite their very souls. She stood behind the bonfire, the flame's colours making her all too pale skin seem to light golden. "Welcome, all! And thank you for joining us in our cleansing. Where flame takes that which has been discarded and lost, and turns it into light and warmth. As the flame, so do we. For many of us have been discarded, and were lost. Some of us still are. Discarded and lost to a society that moves forward, like a cold machine, on some unknown purpose, but its priests, its scientists, its salesmen, its politicians tell you to FEED the machine. To be useful. Be useful to the machine or you are worthless!" She spat. "I see no cogs here, I see no broken parts that that machine spat out! When I see here, I see FLAME! Each human soul a bright, warm fire seeking only to join the others in warmth and light! The machine may try to swallow that fire, to corrupt it, to use it, but its cold metal can never create the flame. It can only corrupt it, taint it, fill the body mind and soul with ugliness that causes thick smoke and stench. But where one flame alone may be smothered, when we add our fire together, we do not flicker or fade, we purify ourselves and each other, we keep our flame bright and pure and warm! We watch over what fuel we consume to maintain that purity, and what follows... is happiness, is belonging, is purpose. "Tell me, good people of Convoy. Tell me about yourselves. How has the machine treated you?" Next step is to give a sermon, then the idea is to draw folks in, tell them how full of potential and hope they are, but how much society sucks and is holding them back and holding them down. +4 Cult Leader, (which is gonna see a fair amount of use) Shogeton fucked around with this message at 17:59 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2018 01:47
|
|
|
Desdemona Kilgore - Suburbs of Empire City There was nothing to it, time to get ready. Choosing an outfit was always a predicament for her. At least in the military and at Gethsemane there were official uniforms to wear. Here in civilian land it was difficult. The main problem being that the normals treated her like poo poo for being taller than the vast majority of men, and her athlete's build wasn't helping. Ordinarily she'd flaunt it, but she was there to make "friends", so a subdued look was in order. Some inoffensive number with covered arms and going down most of the way down her legs. And flats. The "Atlantican princess-in-waiting" look she heard it called, when the reverend of her church had been pressuring her dad to take her to a purity ball... No. No, this was not the time to get angry. Desdemona cleans up and walks out to her car and gets ready to leave. She mentally wills herself to the last time she was happy, a few months ago some hell hole that had three whole apostrophes in its name, gunfire and smoke blacking out the view... Time to network! Going to this thing. Casually hammering these pukes with a combo of [Merchant of Menace+2] and [Super-Charisma+2] to both test how the ability works face to face and also to build a contact network with up and coming members of the Atlantican technocratic aristocracy. Ronwayne fucked around with this message at 05:50 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2018 04:32
|
|
|
@ Lavell Suburbs, 1/3 BP Animal hunger makes a good enough guide. Even with one arm tightly clutching his precious cargo, Rynn makes good on his trundling approach towards the smell. While part of him is dismayed about his memory failing him (though that's more a matter of having a poor frame of reference to fall back on, it's still him slipping), his chops are running moist with saliva already. Ah. Fresh meat. His strides are long, plodding, ape-like in his approach. Hair bristles along his back as he makes his approach up a grassy slope, and his left arm carries him forward while his legs kick in a rhythmic stride. The pounding is the first thing to alert the happy neighborhood to the monster's approach. Rynn's faculties have all but left him. The wooden fence shatters under the sheer mass of the lizard-like beast's entry. A nearby slide gets knocked aside in passing with a bent right arm, crumpling from the sheer impact. And then, of course, starts the screaming. His beady eyes take in the sight of all those shocked, terrified people. Two families enjoying themselves, until he came. Part of him is actually enjoying this. His back arches and his posture turns upright, towering over the tiny, frightened people like a monstrous, scaled gorilla. And then comes the inhuman roar. Children yell in sheer terror. A woman and a man run to their offspring, while two more men look on in mute horror. He raises his left arm over his right shoulder, ready to strike, but the men are spurred by instinct themselves to flee. Part of him is thankful about that. Another snarl leaves him, before his attention turns away from the scrambling people. There was meat to be had. It's not much of a meal, obviously. Grilled burgers and steak and a large platter that barely would fill his current hand's size are but a meager offering. But they would suffice for now. It's food. It's fuel. The beast sates itself with food, and Rynn realizes that the raw meat actually tastes better. He just hopes he can maintain his composure later. Eating is a new experience. There isn't so much as chewing involved as tearing and gulping food down in one big bite. He wonders how this'll impact him later. Rynn takes a moment longer to take in his surroundings, mostly because he knows people will be calling emergency services, making videos with their mobile phones. He's been about as loud and public as he could be. No matter. He can head out of the suburbs towards the bayou from here with a more focused mind, at least, without the incessant hunger demanding to be sated. After indulging, I think it's best for Rynn to go back to finding a place to lay low. Especially after this. Aquatic Juggernaut +2 and Raw, Animal Cunning +2 might apply in getting him out of this place and towards a suitably out of the way spot. Hopefully without leaving too much of his cargo behind in his rampage or way out. Dinictus fucked around with this message at 15:16 on May 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2018 13:27
|
|
|
 McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven 0/3 BP Sure he was heavy, but on the other hand, Alan felt like he could run through a wall like a bulldozer. It started small, just crushing a loose toaster with his hands. He laughed, no, giggled as the thing crumpled like a paper cup. Soon he was trashing another wrecked car, laughing madly. The first day he'd been scared, frightened. But tonight was different, the thrill of sneaking around with the danger and the possibility of discovery mixed with the pure adrenaline rush of being a human wrecking ball. But he could do better. Something with more oomph, more power. There was another car closer to McCready's shack that was not so bad. Sure the wheels were gone and the chassis was a bit rusted but it hadn't been gutted like the wreck he was currently fused with was. Imagine the power an engine would give him! Alan made his way to the car to do something reckless. Technografting [+2] again to fuse with the car in better condition and with a working engine, as well as Clever [+2] to help figure out things that he might need, like an exhaust to vent heat and so on. But we'll mix in Addictive Personality [-2] in. Alan likes feeling powerful and his new powers are probably giving him a massive hit of that right now.
|
|
#
?
May 24, 2018 04:12
|
|
|
 Well. gently caress. This is an unforeseen snag, but a wolf attacking a security camera that's out of the way should still arise less suspicion than the same wolf suddendly becoming bipedal and absconding with the cash register. Or at least, this is Ivar's train of thought as he leaps towards the offending blinking light, snapping it in his jaws. He then shifts to a bipedal form to smash open the register and stuff a paper bag with its contents, folding it closed and running away with it in his mouth, his again four-legged figure partly melding with the shadows. As soon as he judges he's put enough distance between himself and the shop, and his nose seems to confirm the absence of possible witnesses, he becomes human again, looking for all the world as he's coming back from an evening walk. Using Avatar of the Wolf God [+2] to smash the camera, grab the cash, and book it.
|
|
#
?
May 25, 2018 17:04
|
|
|
Anton McCormic - Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University BP - 1 You make your way around campus, contriving reasons to visit various offices and releasing your little spies when you think no one’s looking. Your magical spies settle in, and being their work. Looking through the footage is mostly intensely tedious more than anything else. Hours upon hours of nothing particularly interesting happening. It’s exhausting. However, just before you give up… paydirt. One of the workers in the finance office had to re enter their password, and your golem got a good look at what she was typing. She wasn’t particularly high up in the office, but it was a start. Out and About, Kingvale You keep an eye out for potential targets, in terms of risk/reward an ATM seemed like a much better bet than trying to step into a situation with armed and alert people. You manage to scope out a few ATMs, before finally finding one at a run down gas station on the edge of town. It likely held less cash than a bank’s ATM, but there were also fewer camera’s and witnesses. Convoy You give your sermon to the gathered people. It goes over well, people nodding along at your message, helped along by your well polished rhetorical skills and the obvious passion for the subject. You don’t draw any converts, not yet. However, from what your followers can piece together from talking to attendees you’ve laid important groundwork and made quite the first impression. If history is any guide, word of your meeting today should spread in all the right places to ensure your next meeting is even more well attended. Desdemona Kilgore - Suburbs of Empire City You make your way to your old school, it’s the first time you’ve been back in years. They had apparently done some serious renovations in the intervening years as you barely recognize the place. The atmosphere was fairly casual, but as soon as you entered all eyes were on you. Thanks to your power you quickly became the figurative belle of the ball. Your work as a mercenary, normally something that would be off putting to this sort of crowd instead took on an air of dangerous mystique. These weren’t your people, but nonetheless they were putty in your hands. Lavell Suburbs, 1/3 BP You flee the scene of your “attack” making your way back to the welcoming waters of the bayou. Your escape goes by without incident, and you manage to get far enough away you’re fairly confident you’re not likely to be nabbed by the police. McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven 0/3 BP You make your way across the junkyard, not being particularly careful about staying quiet. The car is where you remember it, and you greedily reach out and absorb it. There is a crash as the the various other scrap piled on top of the car falls loudly to the ground, but that is largely beyond your notice. Instead your attention is drawn to the changes this newest acquisition is causing to your body. Your metallic skin gets a big thicker and you feel a bit heavier, at least at first. However, as the engine melts into you, you feel a sudden surge of energy run through your body, you feel even stronger than before, an engine of your very own thumping in your chest filling you with power. Before you have much a chance to figure out just what this means for you, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts. “What the gently caress is going on here?” It would seem your exploits had awoken McCready. Enjoy your BP. Suburbs outside of Arcadia University Taking out the camera is child’s play, though that combined with the missing money is going to raise even more red flags over this incident than just from the giant animal attack. With the money secture you make your way off into the dark. The area is actually fairly dense, so it takes a while before you’re far enough away to feel comfortable, and you’re fairly certain you were spotted at least once by a random passerby as you made your escape, but in the end, the police or whoever was involved would be looking for a large animal, not a person so as long as law enforcement doesn’t spot your wolf form you shouldn’t be in any danger of discovery.
|
|
#
?
May 26, 2018 06:40
|
|
|
@Bayou North of Lavell, 1/3 BP The bayou has something homely to it. Probably the (quite literally) reptilian part of his new faculties deciding that this place is perfect to linger in. Hauling his notes and his samples overhead, Rynn navigates the watery wetlands as well as he can, though his concerns are steadily drifting towards how to proceed. He's out, he's loud, he's free. What's next? According to the Maslow's hierarchy of needs, he'd still need to fulfill all his direct necessities of the physiological nature. Which is to say, a roof over his head. Cave systems are a no go, and he's not keen on traversing Lavell's sewer systems anytime soon again with his precious cargo. After giving a quick snarl to a lounging alligator, of course. Though the gator gives a whip of its tail and lets out a low rumble of its own, the beast doesn't quite bother to move out of the way from its sunbathing perch. Not like Rynn was beelining towards the gator. Still, he's gotta to show who's the new boss around here. Thankfully, his trudging through murk and water alike will come to an end, at least for a while.  The rusted, corrugated sheet metal house looked perfectly suitable as a means to retreat into. Though he just hoped it wouldn't be too habituated. Not like he would be above killing its occupants in his current state, but he's like to not have to. It'd be food, otherwise, of course. And a right claim to this place. But he just needed a place to rest and stash his kit. The behemoth slinks around the sheet shack for any signs of the place being lived in, but it looked pretty miserable and deserted from the outside. In fact, the door barely exists, he finds, as most wood seems to have rotted away. Next concern: the floor not giving away under his heavy bulk as he enters the dark place. He finds his eyes adjusting quite readily to the lack of lighting. Assorted manner of tables and chairs are strewn about haphazardly, with a single couch almost all but devoured by the elements. The place smells musty, new scents coming to the foreground he can't quite place even as he inhales sharply through his mouth to taste. Eh, can't be too picky about how to start up your new life, Rynn. He sets down the muscle enhancers and mutagens down under a table, while the damaged papers can stay on top of the folding table at a wall. This'd work for now. He can collect his thoughts now. Work towards grabbing other tables. Maybe order his stolen notes. See how much damage has been taken on the paperwork. It'd no doubt take all his attention while evening falls. The more disturbing thing is, of course, the realization that he knows what certain notes should be about, but not knowing what the connecting themes are between isolation of enzymatic origin sites and the reproduction of transcription processes and the materials listed he'd need. And how the gently caress was he going to make any sense of the notes if he couldn't even handle a red pen or marker to make any kind of notes on the paperwork, as is?! Might as well set out to establish a hiding place! Dinictus fucked around with this message at 20:57 on May 29, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 26, 2018 17:28
|
|
|
Out and About, Kingvale There. Not bad. Robert kept well away from the pumps, storefront, and ATMs itself. For now. Knowing the people he had once known, the few that did armed robberies, they had been caught on camera even when they got away. The news always showed when people used trucks to steal ATMs. Other live cop shows or crime shows talked about different crimes and Robert used to have nothing to do but watch television. Even syndicated shows had alot of truth to them, to add realism even without Robert's own past connections and knowledge. There would be at least one attendant, possibly a relative in a back room if it was owned by immigrants or families. The recording systems usually didnt have all the feeds up on one screen but cycled through them. If not set to one static image to watch the counter. First, as Robert walked by across the street from the building he used his power and turned the cameras on their mounts to face upwards to the sky or face an obstacle. He repeated this until all the external cameras were viewing elsewhere. Second he bolted the locks to the doors of the store. Front, back, or side doors. The top and bottom sliders/latches going into the door frame or concrete to prevent one or another from opening "use the other door" style. If they didnt have these: Then the bolts and any other locks they might have. Then bent them out of shape. To prevent them being easily opened. Robert walked out back of the store by the dumpsters. A fence obscuring him from view. Next From a non-viewable side of the ATM's camera: Robert latched onto and pulled the camera's metal components out with magnetic force. The tiny circuitry wouldn't stand a chance. Now the final moment of truth. He grabbed onto the steel cash box that every ATM held and ripped it out. The rectangular box held firmly in his field of power. He sent it above and over the top of the building and over to his hiding place. A quick flex of his power and it was opened, revealing: ??? Criminal Knowledge [+2] and Engineering Knowledge [+2] to justify the setup and character's reasoning. Electromagnatism Manipulation [+2] to do the actual task. I am Communist fucked around with this message at 19:22 on May 26, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 26, 2018 19:20
|
|
|
 Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University, 1/3 BP A waste of time. Of course, Anton knew that the dull drop-outs of the administration were utter wastes of both time and space, but the asininely slow pace they did anything interesting was infuriating to him regardless. Well, that's what you get when you rely on others to make your plans a reality, huh? Anton reflected on this thought a bit before continuing his work. He tapped his fingers against his desk in irritation. He would manually try out this one password, see if he could worm his way into something useful with it, but if he couldn't on a useful timescale? Well, that just meant he would need to get cracking on some automated information processing heuristics he had an inkling that magic was capable of. OOC: Schemer [+4] and Academy Access [+2] to continue with this plan with the password I got. It's Anton's hope that one he's actually in, even at an entry level, that he should be able to move his way upwards with progressive ease.
|
|
#
?
May 27, 2018 12:11
|
|
|
Bayou North of Lavell, 1/3 BP You set up in your new abode far off the beaten path, in your examination you discover there is in fact some chemical equipment already present. It doesn’t occur to you why until that evening, when a small group of rough looking men approach carrying with them various boxes and jugs. It is then the smell you couldn’t quite recall earlier clicks into place. It would appear that this shack is in fact a meth cook house, and within a few minutes its operators will be upon you. The only question is what to do with them. Gas Station, Kingvale You set your plan into motion, the occupants of the store didn’t notice the movement of the camera’s but the doors were not well maintained and the grinding as they locked startled the shop owner. Not of course, that he been able to miss what came next. With a rending crash of shattering glass and tearing plastic, the cash box is torn from the ATM and floats over the store and into your hands. You’re fairly certain no one has seen you, but you’re also certain that there’s no way the store owner hasn’t hit his alarm, you need to move quick because soon this place will be crawling with cops. Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University, 1/3 BP Making your way to an empty lab, you turn on your computer and login to the school’s network using the stolen credentials. It would appear, much to your delight, that the school was laxer with its money than you had imagined. Even the low level employees had access to the banking software used to process checks. That meant you could use these credentials to issue checks up to $50,000, as many as you wanted, at least until the school’s bank noticed and flagged the transaction. Unfortunately, time was short, there was little doubt that the fact that this account had been accessed from one of the labs would be noticed. This meant that the window until the password was changed or the account was otherwise locked out would be slim. Also, if large sums of money were to mysteriously vanish the school would suddenly begin to look very closely at who had access to these labs, which would narrow the list of suspects substantially.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2018 17:08
|
|
|
Gas Station, Kingvale Robert opens the box and sees: Not as much as he wanted. gently caress. He'd have to count it later. The smaller brick of 20s would fit into the pockets of his hoodie. After taking the money Robert wiped down where he touched the box and used his powers to put it in the dumpster. Walking at a brusque pace but not hurried or running Robert began walking back into the neighborhoods, careful not to expose his face too much to the random passerby. Not using a car and not being seen was key to this not ending up with his face on the news. He'd watch the news when he made it home. Then he could count his payout. Score! Robert is heading in a homewardly direction. His eventual destination will be home, but he's not running straight there. Criminal Knowledge [+2] to not look too guilty or make any newbie blunders getting home. In chat it was revealed to be $7k.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2018 17:39
|
|
|
 The whole escapade netted Ivar 600 bucks, enough to cover rent and have some time to himself for research. The runes inscribed on the rope needed translating, and he'd need to cross-reference that with other translations. An in-depth look at the site and at all previous findings in the area could yield some precious information, too. Luckily, even without the rope, the expedition had been enough of a success that nobody would bat an eye at his research. Using Historian[+4] to look for meaning behind the Rope and maybe some related objects in a museum or private collection.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2018 17:59
|
|
|
 Gethsemane Global Operations HQ "Oh, Kiki! You look great..." She didn't, there was about 40 extra pounds there. The little ski-jump nose her daddy bought her had been balanced out by a second chin. A lifetime ago, back in junior year, Kimberly Kellerson had complained bitterly about her huge beak of a schnoz, but her parents had given her that hilarious line about her being beautiful the way she was and they weren't going to pay to fix what wasn't broke. Upon hearing this, Dedesmona took her friend to an isolated stairwell and immediately delivered an open-palmed blow to her face (sideways, the women's self-defense class her mother has insisted she take had informed her a straight on hit would potentially drive boneshards directly into her brain, and Desde wanted to help, not hurt after all.) She informed a hysterical, crying Kiki that she had a reason to get her nose fixed now that was bending at a 45 degree angle. Additionally, she should phrase this as having tripped or something. It wouldn't be very seemly if the whole story got out. From Desdemona's perspective, her friend still owed her, all these years later, at least in the sense of hearing her out. She ignored Kiki's dilated pupils, increased respiration, and other signs of a fear response and asked her how she was doing, how the new job was working out, and started with her. Once they were all caught up, she moved the conversation to an idea of a professional association. The proles had, or used to have, unions to advance their concerns. Yes, lawyers and doctors had the bar association and whatnot, but she was proposing something more concrete, a PAC of sorts to advance the causes of the almost-but-not-quite wealthy. Junior bankers, lawyers short of partner, and, yes, security contractors. Soldiering was venerated in the Atlantic Federation, at least to the extent that it was a great way to get proles to shut up and not protest whatever forever-war Atlantica was engaged in lest the dread accusation "DON'T YOU SUPPORT OUR TROOPS?!" was levied at them. In practice, amoung the elite, it was an economic death sentence. Even as an officer, you'd miss out on years of raking in money hand over fist, forever falling behind your peers. There was also the whole "service to a higher concept than yourself" that seemed hopelessly naive. Desdemona hoped to counter that, as security contracting seemed to be the natural marriage between the state and the market. Desdemona dropped the idea to as many people as she could convinced, stayed awhile as seemed socially polite and left. To sell her concept she was going to need influence within Gethsemane. She needed, in other words, to work for it. Desdemona leaves the reunion, returns home, spends a painfully awkward evening with her parents before returning to her place of employment. Gethsemane Global Operations was situated on Empire Isle, in the middle of the city. Appropriately enough in the building that used to house the Atlantican Union of Industrial Workers, before, well, unfortunate things happened to most of the leadership and their connections with the mob aired out in public. Desdemona didn't warrant an office yet, but with her newfound ability she doubted it would not be long before she headed up this entire monstrosity. She checks a list of contracts, downtime was over, it was time to earn her future. Setting the seed of an idea for future political action with a few peers and then coming back to the job. Using [Super-Charisma+2] along with [Merchant of Menace+2] to try to get a juicy contract that focused mostly on earning prestige and direct control of some minions. Ronwayne fucked around with this message at 20:20 on May 28, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 28, 2018 20:17
|
|
|
Convoy Good. Good. Things were working properly. The people's soouls yearned for the spark, but it was not time to ignite yet. Two more of those celebrations were had, in similar fashion, seeking to lure in all that might be called. On the third evening, Lady Lunargent spoke. "We thank you for joining with us, for sharing with us your stories. We must leave on the morrow. This place threatens to taint, and we should leave it to maintain purity, to be far away from the machine. Those who wish are welcome to join us. It will lack many of the comforts used to smother your flame here, but you will find friendship, and all are welcome!" Of course, all would be welcome. But there was a thing she knew but didn't speak. Not all of them would have the strength needed. And her Cause was too great to allow those without the resolve to see it through to slow them down. No, she'd take them on a rough trip, with little to eat, little sleep and only the encouragement of the others to keep them going. Those who endured would be purer and more receptive to the deeper truths. And those whose fire only flickered and would never see the tasks through were likely to break off and go to the town. The fire she sparked should burn clean. [i]Going to take prospective cultist members out on a trip through the
|
|
#
?
May 29, 2018 17:54
|
|
|
@Bayou North of Lavell, 1/3 BP The penny took a while to drop. But there it is. And there they are. Rynn takes a deep breath, letting the air flow over his tongue again. He tastes the chemicals. He tastes the sweat of men. How could he have been this oblivious? Well, obviously there's a bunch of reasons. He is rapidly becoming myopic in his needs, for one. For two, his head is still rattled by all these new, intense senses. Still, his brain frantically tries to make for a plan of approach. And that plan comes into motion when the men make their careful approach. After all, seeing fresh tracks around the place is cause for concern. One of the men enters with a cellphone held aloft, lighting his way like a torch for a moment. Imagine, then, the surprise of his fellows when they see their buddy suddenly get drawn into the darkness of the house by a giant, meaty arm. Calls for alarm are already made. Some men seem to dart back to set their kit aside. Grab weapons. Imagine, then, the surprise when their terrified buddy is held aloft by a gigantic gator-man, the beast's massive frame twisting to get out of the shack. One large arm pulls Rynn forward while his smaller, shorter legs draw out after his rise out of the shack. The man is held overhead (well, their heads) while the gator-man regards them with its beady eyes. Teeth are bared. The bare skin beneath his neck's folds slightly grows more flushed and swells outwards. Rynn makes himself as large as he possibly can, considering the short time of confusion and hesitation there still is, his large right hand giving a firm squeeze around the man's chest and neck. Rynn's voice leaves him with a pronounced rasp, a sound he simply cannot recognize as his own. But his words, those are his words! "Gentlemen. I think we are going to have a... business proposition..." "Holy poo poo it talks." "Shut the gently caress up, Cleveland!" "Oh please get it offa me!" Holding his squirming bargaining chip in his hand ahead of him, Rynn glowers at the men ahead. "You an' I both have need of a lab. An' I have need of chemists an' able hands." The gator-man gives a wet gurgle of a laugh. "So. Tell ya what. I'll get you some new product to make. An' I don't turn you into chum." His maw parts into a toothy grimace. Seems this could be the start of an interesting little drug gang. I doubt any of these guys can even approach the utility and relative cleanliness of a decent mol bio lab, but if they can cook meth, they have tools and capacities Rynn could use. Brute [+2] to try and pressure these yokels into a gang of underlings. I'm burning my BP to aid this effort, so that's [+4]. And, well, should these guys believe they have a fighting chance? Rynn will be happy to just butcher some of them. Or all of them. Aquatic Juggernaut [+2], Raw, Animal Cunning [+2], Monstrous Size [+2 Super]. Dinictus fucked around with this message at 08:20 on May 30, 2018 |
|
#
?
May 29, 2018 21:39
|
|
|
Dorm Room on the Campus of Acadia University, 1/3 BP Trivial. Anton would've almost laughed at the ease his genius had penetrated the University's coffers, if it weren't a task too meaningless to register as an actual accomplishment to him. Thus, a smug smirk would have to suffice. Now that he had access to means, the rest of his plans would soon follow. All he needed now was the initial workspace and resources to start his planned operations. And then, after he had the means of production in place, he could finally start working on the variety of ideas that had invaded his mind in earnest. Oh, he could hardly wait! OOC: Schemer [+4] to rent a van, some out of the way warehouse/workshop space, simple metalworking tools and assorted junkyard scrap with as much money as I think I can get away with without immediate issue. Schemer includes using pseudonyms and cash and a variety of other such measures that ought to help disguise my trail.
|
|
#
?
May 29, 2018 22:59
|
|
|
McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven 1/3 BP The adrenaline burning through him turned cold hot as he heard McCready yell out. poo poo. He had to get out of here as quickly as he could before the old madman could get a clear look at him or worse, a clear shot! Fortunately even if the old man saw him in the dark he would probably not recognise him given his current form. Alan had that going for him at least, and probably the ability to bulldoze through any chain-link fence. Given how twitchy he felt right now, if McCready did start shooting at him Alan would probably do something rash, and something he would regret later. If he was lucky it would not come to that. Alan is trying to book it out of the yard before McCready can get a good look or shot at him. However if McCready does start shooting at him, given how tense and high on adrenaline (and whatever an internal combustion engine does for you) he is right now, Alan would probably instinctively respond by trying to throw the nearest heavy and large object at McCready that he could lift and throw. Technografting [+2] to utilise his current borrowed strength for running, or if it comes to it, hurling something. Fit [+2] will help here as well, as Alan is used to exercise at least.
|
|
#
?
May 30, 2018 22:55
|
|
|
Gas Station, Kingvale You make your way away quickly, but not so much as to arouse suspicion, and just in the nick of time. As you make your way of the street, you can see a police cruiser scream by with its lights flashing. When you make your way back to room and count the loot you find you’d managed to grab roughly $7,000. Not bad for a few hours of work. Campus of Arcadia University Now that you had enough funds to stave off immediate disaster, you could focus on your scholarly work. It was not easy going, the symbols on the rope were strange, clearly bearing resemblances to other northern runes, but with significant enough differences to make translation difficult. Your only lead is a reference in an obscure academic tome from the 20s to similar symbols found in an ancient site found by researchers looking to prove viking expeditions to Atlantica occurred sometime around the 10th century. Descriptions of the site in the book were fairly vague, it’s clear time had not been kind to it, but it was your only lead. Your studies are interrupted when your phone buzzes. It’s a mass-text from the university, advising students and teachers that classes were being suspended due to reports of a dangerous animal on the loose, and reassuring the student body that the authorities were getting involved to locate and capture the animal. Gethsemane Global Operations HQ As you work your way through the list of potential deployments a one really jumps out at you. It’s not a glorious mission, and the pay is middling, but the details of the work draw your attention. It appears there is a civil war in Nystria, a small Europan state of little strategic value and one of the rebels trying to break-away from the central government have managed to scrape up enough to try and higher some outside help to provide training. Interesting on its own perhaps, but you also know from keeping up with your briefings that this conflict offers two tantalizing additions for someone of your ambitions. First, none of the superpowers really care about this conflict. Second, the rebel militias are largely untrained have notoriously weak leadership. That means you’d be able to with essentially no oversight or opposition in forging the militias into whatever you wanted, including a personal army. Moreover the lack of outside interest means that you won’t need to worry about stepping on the toes of any intelligence agencies and earning a drone strike in the back for your trouble. It is a golden opportunity, after all, how many chances does one get to go from being a low-level mercenary to a full out warlord. There are other contracts which offer more cash or more prestige within GGO, but none of the other ones offer even close to the opportunity of the Nystrian contract. Convoy You have quite a few people joining your little expedition… at least at first. However, as you wear them down, and the going gets increasingly rough, more and more decide to return home. In the end, after an incredibly rough few days, only about a quarter remain. However, they are ready for the next stage, their minds and souls open and primed for your new truth. Meth Shack - 1/3 BP The men cower under your glare. Shocked into incoherence by the situation that faces them. Your captive calls out to his friends to help him, but they just look back like deer in the headlights. It would appear that there was too much fear and not enough greed in their heads at the moment. Your left with the feeling that if things continue as they are, they’re likely to just run off and leave their comrade to his fate. Campus of Acadia University - 1/3 BP You exfiltrate some funds as best as you are able, which despite your planning is not particularly well. Most people never really develop much experience with finer intricacies of money laundering and disguising cash trails, and you are no exception to that. Still you work should be enough to buy you a little time before the authorities come sniffing around, and the cash comes in helpful in the next stage of your plan. Warehouse space, vans, metalworking tools, and scrap all cost cash. By the time all was said and done you were out a few thousand bucks, but you had secured yourself a fairly complete setup to continue your work. You are just walking away from overseeing the last delivery of scrap when your phone buzzes. It’s a mass-text from the university, advising students and teachers that classes were being suspended due to reports of a dangerous animal on the loose, and reassuring the student body that the authorities were getting involved to locate and capture the animal. McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven - 1/3 BP You make a run for it, barreling through the yard just as McCready pulls around the corner, the engine burning in your chest allowing you to move faster than you ever have before. There is the crack of a gunshot, and you can feel a slug clip your shoulder. There is a dull thudding pain feeling more like getting with a punch than a slug. However, the impact combined with your own inexperience with moving at this sort of speed, disrupts your balance and sends you sprawling. You crash into a junk pile, with a resounding thud of metal on metal. Just like with the bullet your metal skin and subdermal armor protect you from major injury, but out of the corner of your eye you can see McCready getting closer and lining up another shot. Your power might have saved you from a glancing hit, but you have no idea how it’ll stand up if he hits you center mass. You haven’t suffered any damage yet.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2018 01:26
|
|
|
Home, Kingvale Robert sniffed the cash. Yeah. Good score. Not a huge score but then again he didn't even have a bag to hold more. An oversight on his part. He needed to learn more about his powers. Study and test a few things. He would need focus and that meant adderall, then maybe something calming for later so he could rest or if he got headaches again. Having a selection of drugs could be helpful. Deciding to look up a few old dealers Robert thought up a list of a few things they would definitely have. Nothing exotic or crazy. A bottle or two each of perscription painkillers & Adderall would be easily gained. No crack or heroin. The latter type of dealer's product may be more potent but quality was an issue and it couldn't be dosed properly. Robert also wanted something stable from a stable source. Robert would make the call and meet. The $ amount agreed upon before he met up with the guy. He'd only take what he needed plus about $40 more. Just in case. This time around Robert would at least have his backpack. Then he rooted around in the basement and then the garage, robert put his cash into an old unused toolbox then warped an old pipe around it until it was nice and firmly snug. No accidental opening of his stash unless you had the same powers. Or if you were a circus freak. Robert then hid it back under the bench he found it. A few handful of nails and screws went into the backpack and a couple in his hoodie pocket. The police were almost a close call. Carrying around a weapon would definitely be trouble but a few household items might just work. Using Criminal Knowledge [+2] for a normal criminal act Robert would be familiar with. If Atlantica is a kind of analogue for the USA then it might have the same common drug issues. Street prices are very similar and I figure Robert (a former user) will know if he's being gouged. He's looking to score two bottles of Opiates and two bottles of adderall. You can set the prices gm fiat due to world differences, economy. I'm not looking for 100% accuracy. Robert will meet the guy unless he delivers? Hiding his cash in an old toolbox secured by his powers with a pipe bent around it and hidden. Taking his backpack with him, along with nails and screws. They could be useful!
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2018 02:30
|
|
|
A rented warehouse, 1/3 BP Anton raised an eyebrow at the strange message he had received. It was... odd to say the least, but he had no time to waste on such trivial matters. No, he had his legacy and grand plans to consider. And first issue on the line was hiding his work from plain sight. He couldn't just stash all his work in some warehouse and risk it being stumbled upon by nosy morons. The second issue on line was that he couldn't exactly rely on scrap forever. Of course, in his infinite genius, Anton had already figured out a way to solve both at the same time. He had designs for machines he called Automatic Excavation and Construction Units (AECUs!), made to be modular, but in their basic configuration taking the shape of a robust tetrapod with a boxy central unit that hid a variety of tools and sensors within itself to perform its chosen duties admirably, efficiently and without much unnecessary oversight being necessary. With his new tools their frames ought to be easy enough to make from scrap, and with the right Enchantments of Animation and Hardening they ought to be serviceable. The second issue was the location of his lair. He would have to pick a spot that would not be easily found, but also one that held mineral deposits that he could later utilize to make his own materials instead of having to scavenge off of scrap. Of course, any economically viable deposits would already be either tapped or under scrutiny, but he had his magic. He did not need to heed the constraints of the dreadfully inferior mundane technologies. Indeed, his head was already filling up with plans and designs for alchemical forges and transmutation crucibles that could efficiently utilize trace deposits or even minerals mundane tech couldn't turn into anything useful. Yes, yes, he had such grand plans. But for now, he had to start with this. Anton got to work, cackling to himself ever so softly. OOC: Magitech Prodigy [+2] to construct a few Automatic Excavation and Construction Units in my newly rented warehouse space. Then I will use my van to discreetly ship said AECUs into a proper space for a LAIR. Schemer [+4] for Anton to figure out a good spot as per being unlikely to be found, and Academy Access [+2] to dig into geology reports and such to figure out where metals could likely be found with enough digging (he is confident he can utilize deposits and metal-bearing minerals mundane tech cannot properly or economically refine). He will use these considerations to pick a LAIR location. Theantero fucked around with this message at 17:33 on Jun 3, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2018 17:24
|
|
|
@ Meth Shack, 1/3 BP Rynn tosses (well, more like unceremoniously dumps) his captive down to the ground, freeing his right hand again for locomotion. Or more dire things. Now this was a pickle. He could use these men. But if they ever were to turn into a liability, he wouldn't be able to chase them down. Of course, it's only more fun when they run. ...Alright, these thoughts were slightly distressing to consider when he still is thinking about putting these drug pushers to work. And yet, they would probably be exactly what would get them to work for him. "Perhaps I haven't made my point yet. I will turn you into giblets if you don't head in there doin' what you wanted to do." His posture grows wider as he slowly trundles up to them like a gorilla gator. "So get. The hell. In. Side."
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2018 20:37
|
|
|
Gethsemane Global Operations HQ> Nystria Desdemona drools over the possibilities. In addition to the one-two punch of utilizing her talents and allowing her to indulge her natural shithead tendencies, the contract allowed something tantalizing: the ability to help another struggling nation into the modern economy by systematically looting the thing like it was a firesale measured in hundreds of square kilometers. Still, she isn't going in blind: Desdemona spends her time researching Nystria, its history, its factions, who the hell has hired her, etc. The who's and why's of why these people are killing one another were always complex as they were petty. Using [Merchant of Menace+2] to use GGO resources to research this place and then heading on over to play Jagged Alliance 2 for real.
|
|
#
?
Jun 4, 2018 03:54
|
|
|
Campus of Arcadia University The mass text isn't surprising for obvious reasons, but it does come in at a good time. With lessons suspended, nobody would bat an eye at Ivar taking advantage of it for a quick expedition. The paper doesn't seem to mention anything too out of the ordinary, except for the symbols, but it's possible something went overlooked. And who knows, maybe the rope will react or something. Ivar loads his battered pickup with his camping gear and heads for the site. A quick look at the map reveals a small coastal town not too far from it, so that's the first destination. Using Historian[+4] and Outdoorsman[+2] to scout out the site mentioned in the papers from the 20s.
|
|
#
?
Jun 5, 2018 20:10
|
|
|
McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven 1/3 BP Alan's blood ran cold as the bullet grazed his shoulder. gently caress. The bastard had shot. Fear and anger ran through him like gasoline to fuel the engine burning in his chest. Alan grabbed the nearest heavy object that he could lift and hurled it McCready while yelling; "gently caress you, you maniac!". Alan did not deliberately intend to kill the old bastard, but he was scared, angry and high on adrenaline and an engine burning in his body. The advantage to a large object would be to either force McCready to dodge, or at least put an object between Alan and the junkyard owner to protect him from another shot. Although he did not really think about it in the moment, there was also a decent chance that McCready would be killed immediately or soon after, from being crushed by whatever large object Alan got his hands on. Technografting [+2] and Fit [+2] to hurl a car, fridge or whatever large object he can pick up at McCready.
|
|
#
?
Jun 6, 2018 04:58
|
|
|
Outside of Convoy That night, there was a fire, smaller, with the new folks from Mission being praised by their new brothers and sisters, and Lady Lunargent spoke when the fire seemed to be . "My brethern, my sisters. I am overjoyed to see that the temptations of the machine have not drawn you away. Your souls add to the fire we create, make the world a bit less foul, a bit more pure. Would I could say that our fires along could purify this sinful world." She gazed as the fire slowly started to peter out. "But it is not. The world gets worse and worse. The servants of the machine have turned the world into their playground, and barely a few have the will to fight, let along the means." She carefully let her voice fall more and more silent as the flame was going out. "As things are, one day soon the flames will... go out." It was almost whispered as the last flickers seemed to die in embers. And then there was a flash of silver flame as the fire burned from her hand, and where once there was dying yellow flames now burned a silver flame, making her face light up in the darkness. "YET IT WILL NOT!" Seh called out. "For we are more than dying embers, more than a wildfire. We are a signal. The flame of a lighthouse! A beacon! And we shall call down a Greater flame! One that will turn the machine and its servants to cinders! I have been blessesd with but a spark of it! And I share that spark with others." With this, the members of the cult would uncover their chests, where a burn mark of a palm showed their dedication. She pointed at the new initiates, holding up a hand that burned with the silver flame. "You too are worthy, pure, chosen. Join us now, and together we shall be as one, and we shall light the fire that will lead Lord Asemir here. And those who were low, shall be raised high!" She stepped forward. "Let me feel your heart, let me feel the purity, the burning in your blood. And in pain and fire and cleansing, you will be reborn anew." And going for the initiation ritual, and showing off the powers. +4 Cult Leader +2 Silver Flame. And of course, the burning handprint is just a fancy way to mark them as 'in crowd' but has no acutal mental compulsions Shogeton fucked around with this message at 03:47 on Jun 7, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jun 7, 2018 03:38
|
|
|
Home, Kingvale You make some calls, it was something you’d done a million times before. Getting the stuff was easy, the more annoying thing would be keeping your parents in the dark. They had generally laid off your case since the incident, but if they thought you were using again all their concerns about pushing you too hard after your trauma might dry up, which while not life ending, would certainly require you find a new place to live. A rented warehouse, 1/3 BP The downside of being near Arcadia university was that there really wasn’t anywhere that could be reasonably considered nearby that would be remote enough that people wouldn’t notice excavation or mining activity. Especially since the university had a sub-surface imaging program, there were a good deal of seismometers in the area, enough to detect the vibrations given off by serious excavation, and the kind that might lead to local authorities wondering who was doing heavy excavations work without a permit. That was if the neighbors didn’t narc you out first. No, if you wanted a sufficiently private location you would need to put a significant amount of distance between you and the university, someplace much more rural than your current suburban locale. Meth Shack, 1/3 BP Your captive rushes over towards his compaitraits, and after a few long seconds they do as they’re told. They set up their equipment, and get to work. Mixing compounds is delicate work, even for as crude an operation as they were running, and being so frightened you can’t stop shaking doesn’t make for delicate work. Just from looking at them, you could tell whatever batch they were making was going to be garbage quality, but they were rushing through the process, cutting any corner they could. You were virtually certain that they were trying to be finished and gone as quickly as humanly possible. By the same token, you had a good idea that once they left with whatever garbage product they got from this cook, you would never see them again. There were enough secluded spots in the swamp or even out in the suburbs that they could continue their “careers” and never have to see this place again. Gethsemane Global Operations HQ> Nystria Like so many conflicts the civil war in Nystria was born from the ashes of the Great War when the Europan powers carved up the remains of defeated empires with no consideration to local wants and needs. Nystria was the runt of the litter, an afterthought with little in the way of strategic resources. It did not fare well in the interwar years, but things seemed to turn around slightly during the Silent War between Atlantica and the the Communist Federation. With investment flowing in things were better for a while, but after the Silent War ended with the collapse of the Federation, things fell apart quickly. The fall of communism left Nystria at the mercy of global finance, who sucked it dry. The state all but collapsed, and a civil war broke out between the small circle of elites and their associates and the army their ill-gotten gains could buy and the largely economically devastated rest of the populace. Currently, the battle lines were geographic with the oligarchs and their hired guns (apparently GGO was one of the few they hadn’t yet hired) controlled the capital and the east of the country, while the “rebels” controlled the largely rural and mountainous west. The rebels had numbers, but they were short on supplies, and even shorter on organization and leadership. However, they had apparently scraped up enough money to put out a modest contract for an “advisor” to assist in building up their forces. Your trip to Nystria was fairly uneventful. You had to fly into one of the neighboring states and reach the headquarters of the rebels by truck. There, you were greeted by the rebel government, such as it was, and what little senior leadership they had left. It would appear that the government had been engaging in a fairly successful campaign of assassination which had left the rebels even more bereft of military leadership than usual. Campus of Arcadia University Getting from the university to the town in question ended up being quite a slog, especially when the highways took you through Empire City at the height of rush hour. All in all, you spent the better part of a day just driving into town, and the cost of gas ate up the pittance you had left over from your heist that hadn’t gone straight to your landlord. The town itself was fairly unremarkable. Definitely it had seen better days, but it appeared to be surviving at the very least. Getting to the site itself would be far more annoying. It was on the property of some tech billionaire's summer house. He had been buying up local parcels to create some sort of summer home away from the plebs. McCready’s Junkyard, Southaven 1/3 BP You toss the battered remains of a car like a giant discus. It flies across the yard, as MacCready leaps out of the way. There is a great crash, and by the time the dust cleared you could see that MacCready had not been entirely successful in his attempt to escape. He was there, pinned under the car at the waist. His groans of pain and slow movement letting you know he was still alive, for now at least. Outside of Convoy It was fortunate that you had worn them down, peeled aside the doubters, those with anything to lose. For those who were here at this gathering were primed and ready for your message. They had nothing left, no purpose, and you were here offering them what they lacked. Purpose, structure, direction, your promised them all these things, and so they were all too eager to take on your mark. You had yourself some new blood for your cult, their numbers weren’t great but their zeal was great.
|
|
#
?
Jun 7, 2018 05:12
|
|
|
Home, Kingvale Scoring the drugswas easy. Robert rummaged around until he found an old thermos. The metal kind with a metal screwing lid. He our his pills into baggies. Then into the thermos. He could theoretically if caught use his powers to hold the lid on and prevent it from turning. That went into his bag as well. He grabbed a bit more cash and decided to hit the city sciences /earth museum. One that had examples of all the metals, minerals, rocks etc. He'd buy a weekend pass. Then spend the weekend studying and focusing. The adderall would help with the last part. He would learn the limits of his ability. The last job worked but it was still too messy. Maybe if he had a razor thin wire cut the ATM apart. Before taking the box. But how would he know how fast or hard it would need? He needed more practice and to know more... Going to develop his senses and the differing electromagnetic properties of every earth based material sample. Even moon rocks if they have them. He should, in theory be able to learn how to sense and how much of his power is needed; to manipulate essentially the periodic table. m Minus of course poo poo not found in a museum. Also the range of his sensing & range of manipulation on these sample amounts. This would help him constantly feel around him for example like magneto could tell if cops were carrying guns or had a metal leg. He could then manipulate the leg with finesse without ripping it off. Using drugs to help. Not sure if this is a knowledge use or his power use.
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2018 02:36
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 24, 2024 02:12 |
|
|
A rented warehouse, 1/3 BP Well, this was to be expected. Anton's planning had revealed the poor suitability of local areas for his plans, but as much was largely to be expected. No matter, he'd just have to expand his search for a bit. For now he just needed a safe lair, his AECUs wouls be largely autonomous after all, that was the whole point, and he needed to learn how to operate bases remotely anyway. That said, he probably should invest in runic dampening arrays that actively counteracted the sound of his operations, or perhaps some sort of arcanely tethered alchemical plating that could shunt the vast majority of energy directed at it into the aether... Actually, that was a pretty good idea, and had potential for far more than just stealth. But for now, all he needed was his lair. OOC: Schemer [+4] and Academy Access [+2] to expand the area of search for my LAIR with the same qualifiers for a good LAIR spot as during my last action.
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2018 10:25
|
|