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10/20/14, 9:58 PM That Nothing Cures, Part 1: A Secret Ratio  The night is quiet on the University of Colorado campus. Winter came earlier than expected this year, the dry and biting chill settling in and driving off sound of birds and crickets that had filled the air only a month earlier. There are scant few clouds in the sky, but the light from the skyscrapers across Cherry Creek blots out most of the stars. The waning crescent moon casts a scant pale light on the campus, as a few straggling post-grads trudge across lawns and down lamp-lit paths from their weekend labs to the parking lots on the outskirts of the university grounds. Most of the windows in the nearby buildings are darkened. The university slumbers in anticipation of a new week.  St. Cajetan's cathedral, in the heart of the campus. The stained glass window above the door glows dimly, but the building seems quiet otherwise. From the shadows, four figures converge at the foot of the steps leading to the church doors, their movements harried by excitement, tension, or the simple desire to decamp for elsewhere as soon as possible. They seem to appear all at once, as though summoned. ------------------ One day earlier Samantha Greene Samantha arrives home from her development job. An easy day, but the work wasn't particularly challenging, not that it needed to be. She notices that the notification area at the corner of her rig's screen glows with a "1" enclosed in a red circle, from an app she hadn't touched since the last time she'd felt like dropping in on her old haunts. It's a message, to one of her old accounts: quote:===[from: Catechumen@ArcadiaNet]======= Dr. Cullen Dashwood Dr. Dashwood is enjoying his weekend, catching up on a scholarly journal he hoped to soon pitch with a paper, when a soft *ding* rings out from his phone, another email to his university account. Suspecting a bewildered freshman, Dashwood gives the alert a cursory glance and the subject seizes his gaze. quote:From: Adam.Abraham@Smithsonian.org While walking out of his bimonthly check-in at the Denver VBA office, SSG. Queen finds that his cell phone has failed to pick up a call but has logged an answering machine message. The cell plays the message back: “Hi, Walter Queen? … This is Marcia Doran, you served with my brother John in Iraq. Listen… I was told that you were in his convoy when it got hit, and that you’ve been taking it hard. We all have, but… Anyway, I don’t want to open up old wounds, but, well, I got a notice from the post office where I used to live, and it turns out they’d kept a bunch of letters that John had sent me back when you were on your tour together, that had never arrived here. I read them… You’re mentioned in them. He also left a package with instructions saying that if anything happened to him and you made it back home, I was to give it to you. I haven’t opened it… Listen, Mr. Queen, please come get this package. It’s the last thing I can do for him, and it’s what he would have wanted.” “Let’s meet at my church. St. Cajetan’s, on the CU Auroria campus, do you know it? I get off of work at the hospital at 9:30, so let’s meet there at 10 PM. John really looked up to you, it will be nice to meet someone who knew him as well as I did. Maybe we can talk? I’ll see you tomorrow.” RIP SSG QUEEN  Marcus Anthony Moore Marcus is returning from lunch to a building site he’s working when he’s flagged down by the supervisor and directed to the trailer that serves as the local office. The receptionist hands him a letter that had been left for him while he’d been gone. It reads: quote:hey marcus, its jan. you remember me, right? We used to squat outside the emergency care place on south broadway. anyway I heard you were doing real well but I didnt want to reach out til I got clean, and Im clean now. Im running the show at an NA group that meets at st cajetans, it’s the catholic church on the cu campus, remember when we used to see it walking down speer? anyways its a good group, a couple of guys and a girl. I wanted to ask you to come out and speak to them. Theyre fighters but its tough for them, I think it would really help for them to see a guy who was in their shoes who pulled themselves out of the hole, you know? and it would mean a lot to me. our next meeting is tomorrow night at 10 pm, we take about an hour then we see them off to the shelters. please come, it’ll be good to see you on the other side of everything we went through together. --------------- Welcome to our nWoD game! For your first post, put up your pic, and a link to your character sheet. The posting convention is thus: quote:Character name If you want your character to have done anything between the period in which they were contacted and the time at which they arrive at the cathedral, you can go ahead and declare and I'll respond, but your character must arrive at the appointed time. OOC thread is here. Basic Chunnel fucked around with this message at 08:56 on May 12, 2014 |
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May 3, 2014 07:43
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 10:54 |
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Bump, because this went up in the early morning
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May 4, 2014 02:32
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10/19/14 8:04 PM Private Chatroom Wild_Hart has entered (8:04 PM) Wild_Hart: what a bullshit day Kriegsdottir: Hard day at work? Wild_Hart: not hard Wild_Hart: just bullshit Wild_Hart: fuckin christ i need to move out Wild_Hart: they wont let me smoke in here Kriegsdottir: Hart : / Kriegsdottir: When did you start smoking again? Wild_Hart: i stopped because my boyfriend hated it Wild_Hart: now he's prob on the other side of the loving country because he's afraid i'll go origami killer on him or some poo poo Wild_Hart: and now i get to add "lack of lung cancer" to the full-length corporate powerpoint presentation of decent things that have dropped out of my loving life Wild_Hart: so thats rad Kriegsdottir:  Kriegsdottir: What happened? Kriegsdottir: Hart? Wild_Hart: poo poo krieg i told you, i dunno Wild_Hart: he just really loving hated my job i guess Wild_Hart: not the lovely web design job, my real job Kriegsdottir: Well, what happened at SWDJ that was so bullshit? Wild_Hart: oh man Wild_Hart: check this out Wild_Hart: i finished early Wild_Hart: but i had to stay late cause Wild_Hart: roy hosed up this basic as hell correction Wild_Hart: and killed his project's entire database Wild_Hart: but before he updated he taught brandon his long and hallowed tradition of loving up Wild_Hart: passed down from father to son since time immemorial Wild_Hart: at least i think that has to be true, i showed him step by step how bad he'd hosed up and he went home still saying it wasn't his fault Wild_Hart: so i guess i offended his ancient sacred upfucking family tradition Wild_Hart: whatevs Wild_Hart: anyway brandon did the same correction and hosed his whole database too Wild_Hart: and since i'm the only one at that grindfest who knows how to plug in a loving monitor Wild_Hart: manager made me stay and unfuck the whole system Wild_Hart: even though it wasnt my fault and had nothing to do with my project Wild_Hart: with no overtime because of that last thing Wild_Hart: it wasn't even hard, it just took like ten years to recompile the code Wild_Hart: today was so bullshit it couldn't even do me the courtesy of being hard Kriegsdottir: Hart Kriegsdottir: You gotta get a better job. Wild_Hart: with what fuckin resume Wild_Hart: i didnt let em pluck me straight out of school like a ripe fuckin bushel of grapes and i'm too smart to sign any lovely contract so what the gently caress kind of job am i gonna get Kriegsdottir: gently caress you, Hart. I just want to help, it's not my fault you dropped out of the game. Wild_Hart: fuckin poo poo Wild_Hart: im sorry krieg Wild_Hart: im just fuckin mad and bored all the time Wild_Hart: i cant go back in, it's my poo poo to deal with, not yours Kriegsdottir: It's okay. Kriegsdottir: Can I at least run something by you? That might cheer you up. Wild_Hart: yeah sure, hit me Wild_Hart: oh Wild_Hart: BRB pizza Wild_Hart has gone idle.(8:13 PM) Kriegsdottir: Okay! Wild_Hart has gone active.(8:15 PM) Wild_Hart: ;l,,ng'/"gvmmmvbmmmf,;. Wild_Hart has left the chat.(8:15 PM) Kriegsdottir: WTF Wild_Hart has entered the chat.(8:26 PM) Wild_Hart: oh gently caress me Kriegsdottir: Hart? What the gently caress was that? Wild_Hart: uh Wild_Hart: poo poo Wild_Hart: really cant explain Wild_Hart: dropped pizza on my keyboard Wild_Hart: had to go plug in my spare one Kriegsdottir: Oh god. Kriegsdottir: ... that's actually pretty funny. Wild_Hart: yeah sure Wild_Hart: i gotta go Wild_Hart: sorry Wild_Hart has left the chat.(8:27 PM) Kriegsdottir: Um. Okay. --- Sam sets herself down on the couch, what remains of her microwave pizza sat safely aside, her keyboard disassembled on the coffee table in front of her, a plastic jar of keyboard-cleaning putty in her hands, and a cigarette pressed between her lips, gently caress the landlord. Who the gently caress are these people, how the poo poo did they find me, and how the hell did they get into my system? Because they must have. She thought the email was a joke until she saw the "seven is more your number" line. Whoever put that little tidbit in there knew what they were loving doing, they were getting her goat, and goddamnit, it worked. And "recalcitrance will be very costly"? What the gently caress does that mean? ... and who talks like that? Her hand freezes over the dismembered keyboard as a possible answer comes to her. What if it's him? Or her? Whoever made the program? She has to know. And frankly, if these fuckers can get into her goddamn rig she wouldn't put it past them to carry out whatever that threat was supposed to be. poo poo, maybe they're watching her apartment. She has to go. ...but, she's not gonna go unarmed. She finishes putting the keyboard back together, reconnects it to her rig, and brushes the dust off of an old name. --- 10/19/14 9:08 PM Message posted on password-protected message boards belonging to hacking webrings DUST, ARCLIGHT, and BetterMouseTrap Drummerboy: just heard a crazy as poo poo rumor, boys. does "Catechumen@ArcadiaNet" mean anything to you dorks? because the chatter i heard said they're trying to hire ICE-9. when was the last time anyone heard that handle? yeah, i thought so. who the hell are they and how did they find him? we gotta know if this is the real deal or not! --- 10/20/14, 9:58 PM The next evening, she doesn't go home after work. She eats at a pub, taps into the coffee shop next door's wi-fi, and sits in the back as the place fills up with college kids, going unnoticed amongst the throng of steadily more drunken young people. When she checks BMT mid-spoonful of chowder she sits there staring at her screen for long enough that some of the hot soup spills onto her loving jeans. She swears out loud and does her best to wipe up the mess, but her heart is racing and her appetite has fled. How close did she just come to getting nailed to the wall? It feels like a shark just swam through a school of fish and swallowed them all in one go, and if she'd been swimming a little closer to the group she would have gone with them. Jesus, this is what happens when she tries to protect herself by getting out of the loop. Wait. Wait. Okay, think this through. So what the poo poo does it mean? Sam pushes what's left of her food aside, orders an iced coffee, and starts to think. So, back when the Crash happened, the top men in the establishment tried to take precautions against it happening again. Makes sense, that's what anyone would do. And she was on the list, because of course she was. And now, four years later, they suddenly go on the warpath? Doesn't make sense. Something else must have happened to trigger this. And who the gently caress is Deer_Tread, was he on the webring, how much does he know? Did he tell it to those Zero nutjobs? It's the code package, it has to be, with the repeating seven pattern. But why did it stop? What was it after, was it taking these guys out or was it just looking for info? Is it getting rid of everyone who could stop it? Sam thinks, a cold puddle of lead forming where her stomach used to be. This is not a coincidence, that this mystery job offer slash blackmail happens now. These fuckers know something and she's gonna find out what. At least Adj has covered her tracks for her. She shoots him a message back to keep the story straight. Drummerboy posted:Holy poo poo, I leave you people alone for one weekend and everything goes balls crazy. Sorry if I stirred up the pot, I got shanghaied into this family trip to some horrible place with no internet. I just got back yesterday and that chatter was the first thing to come across my screen, so I went sniffing. This is some crazy poo poo, if I hear anything else you'll be the first to know, man. Thanks for the update. -DB She's not really bullshitting that last part. If anything that'll hurt the community or the old guard is going on A12 deserves to know, he just told her a lot. She needs to get home and change her passwords, but she can't get there and back, she'll be late. And she's pretty sure there are no bugs on her own system, but with the package who the gently caress knows. Maybe these people will have some answers. At 9:30 she checks the ARCLIGHT board one last time, closes up her laptop, sticks it safely back inside the oversized leather computer case that doubles as her purse, deposits some money on the table, and walks to St. Cajetan's. What the gently caress kind of job is this? She thinks, looking up at the cathedral. Am I getting hired by the Church or something? Does the Church blackmail retired hackers? She looks down in time to see the other three people, converging on St. Cajetan's stairs with the same purpose as herself. She sizes them up. An absolutely ordinary-looking white-collar black guy, and... her old anthropology professor? "Doctor Dashwood?" She exclaims, emitting a cloud of cigarette smoke. "What the hell are you doing here?" ---  Samantha Greene Okay, here we go. Taking advantage of Contacts (Hackers), Sam is gonna try trawling her old hangouts for anyone who recognizes the mysterious email address. Manipulation + Subterfuge (for using a fake identity and making up fake rumors to push people in the right direction) + Fame (Hackers) (for dropping ICE-9's name), should be 8 dice. Maybe 9, for my Avoiding The Issue specialization? Not sure if that applies here, up to you, Chunnel. She's also gonna spend the night turning her own system upside down as best she can during the night, trying to find out if anyone is spying on her machine. Pretty sure all my specializations apply; Intelligence+Computer, Specialization (Hacking) and (Systems Architecture), 10 dice. TehWarsmith fucked around with this message at 22:49 on May 12, 2014 |
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May 4, 2014 04:35
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Samantha Greene You attempt to log into the message boards but BetterMouseTrap and DUST seem to be inaccessible – some light digging seems to indicate that there was a security breach of some kind and they're locked down. However, you manage to get into ARCLIGHT and leave your message. When you log in the next day, your public message has been erased, but a new direct message is in Drummerboy’s inbox. ”Adjudicator12, sysadmin for ARCLIGHT” posted:Drummerboy, hey. Sorry I had to delete your message, the userbase is uneasy enough with my not having locked down ARC like most other groups have. If you’re asking after ICE-9 I guess you haven’t heard. But maybe that’s good, idk. You take a long sustained action in thoroughly inspecting your system and find nothing out of the ordinary. Basic Chunnel fucked around with this message at 08:10 on May 4, 2014 |
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May 4, 2014 07:53
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change your passwords and keep your head down for the next few weeks, I wager things will be back to normal after that.
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Updated my post with regards to your response. Actually terrified now, ace job Chunnel  Can't wait for more posts!Also if anyone gets the reference those hacking board names are making they should totally get a beat.
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May 4, 2014 08:31
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10/19/14 7:24pm He could scarcely believe what he was reading. Oh sure, he’d been asked to do similar work before although usually for his colleagues, or other academics from local universities. Never before by an organisation as prestigious as the Smithsonian though. And with the prospect of having his input being given special note when the findings were collated and published... This... THIS could really be a chance to show his work and expertise on a global stage. Cullen spent the night furiously scribbling notes as he tried to bring himself as up-to-date as he could on the various research digs and investigations conducted recently into the Ute Indian tribes around the western and south western regions of Colorado. Throughout the next day he found himself growing ever more impatient for evening to fall to the point that his usual attention to detail in his preparations for that day’s lectures was sadly lacking – an oversight which brought much laughter from many of his students. 10/20/14 9:58pm He can see light illuminating the stained glass windows of St Cajetan’s, so Cullen figured that the relic must be being ready for examination inside. He also notes the three others approaching the cathedral’s front steps; probably the other experts that the email mentioned. As they all converged he noted that two of the others were males, probably in their mid-to-late twenties. The last was a smallish female with several piercings, puffing furiously on a cigarette. He noted her eyes appeared haunted when suddenly she blurted "Doctor Dashwood? What the hell are you doing here?" Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she spoke, and her words were accompanied by a cloud of cigarette smoke. Cullen could scarcely believe it. While he usually saw dozens of utterly unremarkable students every year, there were always a few that stood out academically. And even after all those years he still remembered this one. ”Samantha Greene? Good grief, I haven’t seen you for... heavens it must be... how many years now? Five? Six?” His face breaks out in a smile and he thrusts his hand towards her. ”How have you been my dear girl? --  Dr Cullen Dashwood Just a quick post to get started with from me. I’ve also added three Aspirations to my character sheet as requested.
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May 5, 2014 05:23
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Samantha Greene "Six years, doc." Sam raises a studded eyebrow as she shakes his hand mildly. "I'm hangin' in there." She almost wants to laugh. What the hell is Doc Dashwood doing here?...poo poo, she wonders what they have on him to pull him away from his research. She hikes a thumb up the steps at the cathedral. "You here for the shindig? What, do they need their system's cultural heritage traced?"
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May 5, 2014 05:37
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 Marcus Anthony Moore Jan? Marc doesn't quite recall her face, but then, he remembers, most of their conversations were sitting side-to-side, passing smokes back and forth, talking about whatever you talk about when you're trying not to talk about something else. It's strange having someone from that other life contact him, like feeling a cold hand gripping his shoulder. And when he was living that other life, on the street or in a by-the-hour room somewhere, he didn't want to be found by anyone from the life he has now, either. What the hell. If anyone he used to know was going to make it out, he's not surprised it was Jan. She understood. "Kristen, I'm not going to do the overtime tonight; I've got church. You can put Ron on it, or if he can't do it, give it to J-Rod." Working nights was good money--owners usually paid cash under the table to have their best guys getting the job done faster--but it's not like he didn't have all the work he could handle. What he didn't have was a room where he wasn't the damaged goods. Marc walked through the gravel lot in front of the the trailer, spreading his arms out wide like doors with hinges that needed oiling. "poo poo, what am I gonna say, anyway?"
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May 5, 2014 18:51
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Dr Cullen Dashwood "Six years, doc. I'm hangin' in there," the young girl responds as she shakes Cullen's hand. She gestured up the steps at the cathedral. "You here for the shindig? What, do they need their system's cultural heritage traced?" "No, no. Some kind of Native American relic... Ute apparently.. from out in western Colorado. He couldn't help smiling with a mixture of pride and eagerness. "The Smithsonian asked me personally... ME... to come examine what they found." As he continued to shake her hand what she had said slowly began to filter through. His expression changed, recalling that Samantha had only been tangentially interested in anthropology - her majors had always been in the Computer Sciences and IT fields. "Wait... system?" He looked around at the other two with them. Neither immediately appeared to be of a scientific bent, nor of any academic field probably. Cullen looked quizzically back at Samntha. "What did they tell you was in there?"
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May 6, 2014 02:45
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Samantha Greene Sam's disaffected expression slowly fades away, and a bitter, suspicious scowl quickly takes is place as she glares up at the cathedral. "They didn't." She answers Dashwood, not looking at him. "They told me they needed a top ace programmer." She takes a long draw on her cigarette, puffing the smoke in the direction of St. Cajetan's, and then suddenly turns back to the professor and the others. "What'd they tell you two?" TehWarsmith fucked around with this message at 04:08 on May 6, 2014 |
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May 6, 2014 04:06
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Marcus Anthony Moore "I'm actually here as a speaker, ah, for a support group meeting. You like Native American art?" He doesn't want to miss his meeting, but he has a few minutes to talk shop. Marc lights up and assumes the face of the warm, respectable contractor he learned to be from his father, easing into the role like shaking off a chill. didn't know what to expect, but a crumbling storefront or a one-story, sheet-metal building seemed more like it. He figured St. Cajetan's meant a Catholic church, but he had no idea how different it would be from Mount Zion's Baptist where he and all his family were baptized.
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May 7, 2014 14:24
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One day earlier Joseph Mitchell Joseph is in his sublet apartment, unwinding after a day in the kitchens, when his phone buzzes. A text, from a number Joseph doesn't recognize. quote:Joe it's Pedro. Got home from my shift and there were cop cars in my driveway. Dunno why they're there but I just turned around. I bought a burner phone. We need to get together and go over what happened, make sure we didn't miss anything. You know St. Cajetan's church on UCD campus? Meet me there at 10 PM, nice and late. There will probably be some parishioners around but that'll help us blend in. Don't be late and DO NOT call or text me back on this number. Just be there. We'll get through this, you n me.
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May 12, 2014 09:06
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Joseph Mitchell Sunday 19th October Joseph is sprawled out on an old but comfy armchair, sipping on an ice cold bottle of bud when his phone buzzes. He finishes his mouthful, then checks to see who it is - probably his boss asking him to work extra on no notice again. As he reads the message, he feels his stomach sink. Well poo poo, he thinks to himself as he takes a much deeper, far less relaxed drink of his beer. The memories come back, and his hand shakes as he puts his bottle down on the table. He looks at the wooden training dummy in the corner of his living room, then back at his drink, considering his options. Then, he finishes his beer and walks over to the dummy and starts hitting it. He knows what he's doing well enough to not break his hands, but they'll certainly be sore come morning. Monday 20th October Well, he was right - Joseph's knuckles are still a little bruised as he heads into the cathedral. He has been fighting the urge to look over his shoulder every five seconds all day, and he nearly had a heart attack the one time he heard a police siren. Christ, I thought I'd gotten over this, he thinks to himself as he closes the door behind him. As his eyes adjust to the light, he quickly scans the room for Pedro.
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May 12, 2014 19:20
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Samantha Greene Another scowl, not really directed at either of the men. Another long draw on the cigarette. "No." She answers the black guy. "Not really." What the gently caress is going on here? Then another guy blows past them, quickly enough that she doesn't even get a good look at him as he takes the cathedral steps like a man on a mission. Sam drops the cig and crushes it under her heel. "Message said I'd be working with three others, and that makes three." She says to Doc Dashwood and Captain Mundanity. She pulls her computer case a little farther up on her shoulder, and, with the air of a woman storming the gates of an impenetrable fortress, climbs the steps, following the third guy into the church.
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May 12, 2014 22:47
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Dr Cullen Dashwood The young woman scowls as she glares up at the cathedral. "They didn't," she repsonds to Cullen's question. "They told me they needed a top ace programmer." Another large cloud of cigarette smoke billows in the direction of St. Cajetan's, and Sam suddenly spins back to face Cullen and the other men standing there. "What'd they tell you two?" The young black man is the only one to respond. "I'm actually here as a speaker, ah, for a support group meeting. You like Native American art?" He lit a cigarette of his own; perhaps to match her own demeanour Cullen muses. Cullen watches Samantha take another long draw on the cigarette. "No. Not really." He is about to answer for himself when another guy hurries past them, taking the cathedral steps like a man on a mission and quickly entering through the large doors. Samantha drops the cig and crushes it under her heel. "Message said I'd be working with three others, and that makes three." She hitched her computer case a little farther up on her shoulder and started up the steps into the church. Cullen shrugs slightly. Three other experts was what the email had said. Perhaps Samantha was here as a database expert, although she never mentioned working for the Smithsonian. He wondered about the young black male standing with him as they both watched Samantha going up the steps, and also about the other male who had rushed past. Well, I suppose we should head inside at that. He glances at the young man with him, Shall we?" before following Samantha towards the inside of the church.
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May 13, 2014 03:13
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Joseph, Cullen, Marcus and Samantha step into the church. The foyer feels cramped, all wood paneling and green carpet. A bulletin board and a brightly colored collage of pictures of priests and parishioners in places around the world adorn the walls. The lights are on, but turned low enough that you would have to squint to read text. A sandwich board listing service times and group meetings and an empty podium sit next to the doors into the sanctuary, which are wide open. The sanctuary is even gloomier, with the cross and ornate facade of the far wall backlit behind the elevated pulpit, and lights spacing the stained glass windows of the sanctuary turned on. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark. A man sits on the organ player's bench beside the pulpit, facing away from the instrument, and he stands as the characters enter the foyer. He steps toward you as you walk into the sanctuary.  He looks like a professional of some sort, in a suit that's not cheap but not well-tailored. The man bends down slightly as he walks forward and tilts his head, squinting to get a better look at the menagerie. As you come into view he straightens up, a wary and confused look on his face. He speaks with an incredulous tone. "Who are you people? What are you doing here?"
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May 13, 2014 05:20
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Samantha Greene You'd think if they wanted to attract believers they'd make the place a little homier. Sam glances around the sanctuary, her eyes hunting for side doors or alcoves. "Sam Greene." She addresses the man, idly. "Supposed to meet someone in the chapel around this time, where's it at?"
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May 13, 2014 05:59
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"This is the chapel. I'm the only person here. I was told that I was to be received by two agents, not four. What is going on here? What word did the Galation send back?" The man suddenly out a dry, hacking cough but reaches up to cover his mouth. Basic Chunnel fucked around with this message at 11:45 on May 13, 2014 |
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May 13, 2014 10:28
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Joseph Mitchell Joseph looks just as confused as the man in the chapel. "Wait, what? Hold on, I was only supposed to meet one guy here - what the gently caress's this about?" It's then that the fear kicks in. "Oh gently caress. I gotta go - I don't know what you guys are here for, but I've got my own poo poo to deal with." Joseph heads back towards the door.
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May 13, 2014 15:37
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Samantha Greene hmmmmm before I respond I'll try Intelligence+Academics or Occult on the word "Galation", whichever is more appropriate. Six or five dice, respectively.
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May 13, 2014 17:27
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Joseph The man's expression darkens as Joseph protests, and he breaks his gaze, staring into the middle distance with a stunned look on his face. As Joseph turns to walk out, the man speaks. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out what looks like a wide grease pen. He uncaps it and runs the tip over the back of his right hand. The pen appears dry, however, as no color appears on his skin. His gaze is transfixed on the would-be marked area. He is trembling slightly. Samantha Samantha searches her mind for "Galatian" and quickly recalls it from the Epistles of Paul in the New Testament. The letter principally concerned the Law of Moses and the equality of all in God's eyes. It also contained taxonomy of ancient Christian vices and virtues according to Paul. Roll 6, 2 successes Basic Chunnel fucked around with this message at 00:48 on May 14, 2014 |
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May 14, 2014 00:39
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Samantha Greene Catchumen, Galatian ... that's not a coincidence. Sam keeps her expression neutral as her mind races. So, what, we're getting strung along by some kind of Catholic sub-cult connected to the loving treasure vault of darknet servers? What the gently caress is going on here? Time for a gamble. She folds her arms, glancing back at Man on a Mission, and then looking back at the man with a mildly exasperated look on her face, one that sort of says, 'amateurs, right?' "I haven't heard from the Galation, boss." She says. "The word I got came from the Catchumen, and it said four agents, that's all I know." She furrows her brow in a concerned fashion, praying (ha ha) that Doc Dashwood and Captain Mundanity will either play along or keep their mouths shut. "Has something changed?" The guy is scribbling on his hand with a dried-out pen. This better not have been a really lucky troll. --- Manipulation+Subterfuge, 7 dice, let's see if this guy buys that I'm in the loop. -1 to his opposed rolls thanks to Fast-talking 1 - I don't see a way to use Jargon here, tragically. Hope I'm not hogging the thread, I just got a really meaty intro and I'm acting on it!
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May 14, 2014 01:22
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It's fine Samantha The man doesn't even look up. "Playing games won't help you. If there are four of you here now, then we don't have much time." He loosens his tie with his left hand, sweat beads noticeably on the skin of his face and neck. A streak of redness fades into view on the back of his hand, and he lets out a high groan in frustration. The man unbuttons the top of his shirt, produces a chapstick from his coat pocket and tears the cap off, letting it drop to the floor as he rubs it furiously under his chin and around his throat. He begins to cough again. He turns around, gasping, and lurches toward a nearby pew.
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May 14, 2014 02:26
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Joseph Mitchell "Oh, why's that then?" Joseph demands angrily. "You gonna draw on me? With an empty pen? Or is it because you're the one who sent that message, not my friend? Is this loving blackmail?" At that point, Joseph realises he's probably said too much, and says more quietly, "I was only supposed to meet one person here, and I don't see him. So if you've no business with me personally, then you're not stopping me from walking out that... what the gently caress are you doing?" he trails off as the man lurches into a pew. Just realised that I hadn't mentioned in my earlier post; Joseph is wearing fairly casual clothes; tee-shirt and jeans. hectorgrey fucked around with this message at 02:44 on May 14, 2014 |
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May 14, 2014 02:34
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He steadies himself on the pew, bends down, and pulls a leather satchel from under it, setting it on the seat and opening it. "I didn't summon you here. Whatever was said to bring you to this point doesn't matter anyway." His voice is strained and labored, as if squeezing out the words between coughing fits. "You're here now and that means that plans have been set in motion without me. This meeting was a diversion, I know that now. Each of us has been deceived. You can listen to me and save yourselves, or walk out and resign yourselves to your deaths. There is no time to waste." The man is seized by another coughing fit, this one more violent, and doubles over into the corridor. He retches and vomits, a thick black substance spilling out onto the ground. He teeters back and catches himself on the pew, then turns back to the satchel and begins rooting around in it.
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May 14, 2014 03:14
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Joseph Mitchell "Fine," Joseph growls. "But make it... oh Jesus..." he trails off again as the man starts bringing up what looks like congealed blood. "Are you contagious?" he asks hurriedly, but not sounding scared.
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May 14, 2014 03:39
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Samantha Greene The guy is getting steadily more incoherent. He doesn't even seem to know who sent the email or what is going on. Sam's anger and frustration, simmering at the buttom of her soul for years and months after the Crash, finally boils over and she snaps, "What the gently caress are you talking about, you delusional old crank!" She advances on the man. "What the gently caress is going on?! Who are you people?! What did Daniel tell you?! She steps in closer, cursing and spitting, wildly different from the calm, if apathetic girl you all met outside the church a few minutes ago. "And what the f- The guy throws up on the floor, all over her shoes. -fffFUCK!" She shrieks and jumps back, clapping her hands over her mouth. "What the gently caress what the gently caress what the fuuuuuck..."
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May 14, 2014 04:39
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"This sickness... does not spread. It is only for me." The man rears back unsteadily. He holds out a set of keys and a wallet as if to hand them to the group. The whites of his eyes are now noticeably yellowed. His breathing is labored and heavy. "Listen to me - I don't know why you were called, but you're in danger now and you need to save yourselves, I don't have time to explain. Go to my home, the device there is key. Take it and find a way -" He shudders and gasps, then collapses on the floor, the wallet and keys clattering to the ground in front of him. He's trying to speak but is having difficulty. Cullen and Marcus only There are now hundreds of pinpoint black dots that appear to be contained in the man's profuse sweat. Cullen only The substance that the man vomited now seems to be quivering of its own accord.
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May 14, 2014 05:52
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Joseph Mitchell Joseph walks over and collects the keys and wallet. After that, he walks over to the man and kneels beside him, careful not to touch him. The last thing he needs is his fingerprints showing up on a dead body. "Do you have family you'd like us to tell?" he asks quietly.
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May 14, 2014 08:55
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The man coughs violently, but upon Joseph's request he reaches into the inside of his coat pocket and produces a small silver amulet and throws it at Joseph's feet. He continues to try and speak, even as his condition worsens.
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May 14, 2014 09:24
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Joseph Mitchell Joseph picks up the amulet and pockets that too. "I'll see to it that they know what happened. I promise," he says quietly before rising to his feet. "I've got his stuff to give to his family. There's nothing more we can do for him, and we need to get the gently caress out before someone else walks in."
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May 14, 2014 09:40
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Marcus Anthony Moore Marc had flattened out against the wall near the door while the drama transpired. It would be a shock, except that at times like this he falls into that state where he's watching himself as he watches everything else, the world reduced to a camera lens. His therapist had called it depersonalization, he called it survival. But the threat the man presented melted away as it appeared that he was clearly sick, dying. He didn't pay the man's habits any mind--he'd seen much stranger behaviour from addicts who thought they were plagued with things crawling under their skin. He approaches the man gingerly, from the side, and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Jan sent me here to help somebody. Maybe that's you." Old habits remind him not to say hospital. "We need to get you out of here, okay?" He's not sure the man can even answer anymore. Manipulation 3 + Persuasion 1 (maybe Empathy 2?) to convince him to let us get him to medical attention.
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May 14, 2014 14:07
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Samantha Greene Her hands clamped over her mouth, Sam just stares helplessly as the guy collapses, sweating like he's in the grip of the mother of all fevers, hacking like he's about to cough up a lung (was that black thing a lung?). Look at how loving cool Man on a Mission is staying, just walking up to the guy and taking his effects like it's nothing, like he consigns people to their horrific Ridley Scott-style deaths every loving Tuesday. Then Captain Mundanity steps up, Sam still quivering like a bowl of jelly, asking the guy to let them take him to a hospital, but Sam's no doctor and even she can tell that he isn't leaving this church with his soul in his body.. She can't handle it, and turns away from the dying man, walking around behind one of the columns and pulling out her phone, where she dials 911 with shaking fingers. "Uh, yeah, I'm at St. Catejan's, on the CU campus, uh - there's a guy in here, he's - he had some kind of seizure, I think he's gonna die-" As soon as the assurance of help is made Sam hangs up before the lady on the other end can ask anything else. "We gotta go." She says to the others. She does not need to be here when the cops show up.
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May 14, 2014 22:04
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Holy carp, major movement on the game. Here's me trying to play catch-up... Dr Cullen Dashwood Having moved up beside Joseph as the man collapsed before them, Cullen begins examining the man's body and immediately notes something strange. The body is covered with a heavy sweat, much of which appears slowly turning black. He turns slightly to look at the substance the man had vomited on the floor, and immediately recoils slightly as it quivers and pulses; as if to its own internal heartbeat. From the corner of his eye Cullen sees... 'Joseph' was it? He can't seem to recall the man's name... reach out and pick up the man’s wallet, keys, and a small silver amulet while speaking quietly to the man. Yet all his attention is fixed elsewhere; he can only stare at the quivering puddle of... goo. Hardly a scientific term, let alone academic; yet that was all that came to mind as he watched it. Some of the sweat droplets were rolling off the man’s body and merging with the puddle. Even as he watched, it seemed to Cullen that the ‘sweat’ was rolling across the floor, as if under its own power, to reach the puddle which was now growing in size. "We gotta go." Samantha's words barely registered to Cullen, as he moves slightly closer to study the puddle. I’m assuming that as the good professor hasn’t seen this before (or has he?  ) that Academics 4 and Science 2 won’t be of any help here, so using Investigation 3 and Occult 3 (and possibly Intelligence 4?) in a check to try to figure out what the ‘goo’ could possibly be.Of course if you think that Academics and/or Science might help, throw those in the check too. 
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May 15, 2014 03:03
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Marcus The man seems to be delirious at this point. He reaches out and grabs your shoulder weakly, rears back and shudders, then leans forward and vomits again. The black substance splashes the right side of your chest, splattering heavily on your work jacket and part of the shirt uncovered by the jacket's breast. A bit lands on your neck, as well. It's warm but it feels strange in a way that you instantly don't like. He slumps back down to the floor and seems to be waving you away. Cullen Cullen has never seen this before, but a few factors - the man's statement that the sickness is "only for him", its violently rapid onset, and the strange discharge - bring Dashwood's mind to a paper he'd read years ago on the cultural significance and common attributes of folk magic and hexes, specifically. The strange pen mark strikes Dashwood as perhaps being some sort of litmus test. The outcome must not have been good. 6 rolls, 2 successes Now that Dashwood has called attention to it, the group notices the substance. While it initially appeared to be collecting itself somehow, on further inspection the puddle and many of the droplets on the ground seem to be simply agitated, like beads of water on a hot pan. You begin to hear a slow chorus of wet cracking noises, like the muffled sound of ice cracking, from the puddle. Small bumps appear on the puddle's surface. There are *pops* as the surface begins to erupt like water and hot oil. Small figures emerge, their nature obscured by the sludge of the puddle until their thin, filmy wings suddenly sprout and begin to beat. Wasps! Black wasps. The crackling begins to build in frequency, and the man is groggily hysterical now as the block dots on his sweaty skin widen. You can start to hear it from the goop on Marcus' chest and Samantha's shoes. Great news everyone: You've witnessed your first supernatural event! You saw a dude spew some ready-to-hatch wasp eggs. Pat yourselves on the back, you've reached a breaking point and from this point forward, you are trapped forever in the ~*World of Darkness*~. Given the novelty of it all, you receive a -3 on your composure rolls. Marcus and Dr. Dashwood are caught off-guard but they shut out the shock, avoiding integrity degradation. Samantha and Joseph, however, are profoundly unsettled by the events still unfolding. All characters choose a condition to adopt - Guilty, Shaken, Spooked, or a custom-made condition that you think fits the situation and your characters' reaction to it. Samantha and Joseph lose 1 dot of integrity. I encourage you all to RP these changes. Basic Chunnel fucked around with this message at 11:25 on May 15, 2014 |
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May 15, 2014 11:05
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Well poo poo... I'll be going with spooked. Joseph Mitchell "Oh gently caress. Oh gently caress gently caress gently caress gently caress gently caress..." Joseph says quietly. "We need to loving leave now. I'm loving going, and we all should loving go." With that, Joseph heads straight for the door.
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May 16, 2014 01:00
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Samantha Greene Sam is not a physical person. You'd think that would be obvious, looking at her scrawny, pale frame, but it's worse than that. Sam likes simple, controllable things, things made of metal and plastic and ones and zeroes. She doesn't like animals, she hates the sight of blood, she can't stand being around sick people (and she knows full well why). This kind of thing makes her stomach tie itself up in knots and that horrible feeling rise up in the back of her throat. She looks back at the mass just in time to see it begin to churn and erupt, and witness the roiling birth of impossible life. She throws up, messily, collapsing to her knees as the sight works its way into her brain and her stomach revolts. She shuts her eyes, gasping and choking as the remains of her dinner drip onto the floor. When her stomach stops switching, she opens them, and she's staring at her shoes, looking directly at the black goo starting to crackle and squirm on her shoes. The young woman screams and starts frantically pulling off her shoes as the insects start to rouse themselves. When the footwear comes off she violently kicks it away, scrabbling back across the floor of the chapel. She stumbles to her feet and scrambles after Man on a Mission, gasping and breathing hard. --- I'm goin' with Spooked too.
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May 16, 2014 05:34
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I, too, am spooked by these spooky happenings. Marcus Anthony Moore "Oh, poo poo," Marcus practically shrieks as he scrambles backwards. His arm freezes halfway toward grabbing at his neck, and then he tears off his jacket and overshirt as fast as he can, using the clean parts of the wadded clothing to wipe that weird poo poo off. Sweetness and light time is over, and it's time to bug out. He hurls the soiled clothes onto the roiling heap in fear and revulsion, with just enough presence of mind to think that police probably won't trace him to rags found in the remains of a man who melted into a pestilent bog. "gently caress, wait for me!" He follows Joe.
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May 16, 2014 14:20
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Dr Cullen Dashwood There is a moment of absolute stillness as the wasps begin to emerge from the roiling black goop, then everyone reacts at once. Cullen notes both Samantha and Marcus are yelling loudy as they kick and sramble out of the various items of their clothing that had been covered by the mess before following Joseph, who is making a break for the door. He takes one last look at the man on the floor, seeing the black sweat begin to roil and erupt much like the goop he had vomited up, and the 'fight or flight' response finally kicks into high gear. Pure survival instinct (or is it fear?) overcomes scientific curiosity and Cullen races for the door, reaching it fractions of a second after the other three have exited, and grabs the handle to pull it shut behind him as he exits. He hopes that, somehow, the lock will engage and keep the door sealed as the quartet hurtles down the steps and away from the church. --- This is some spooky poo poo - definately more spooky than events in Ecuador - and Cullen is spooked
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May 17, 2014 01:09
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 10:54 |
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The group scrambles out to the foyer and out of the church doors in short order, breathe quick and heavy. Marcus is in his undershirt and Samantha runs onto the damp, manicured lawn in her socks. The night feels colder even as they'd been inside for a matter of minutes. The light flickers in the stained glass as it did before, but there is a low buzzing from beyond the doors and a telltale popping noise, like popcorn. Other than that, the night is calm - all the weekend postgrads have gone home. You can hear the sound of sirens in the distance. You have a few minutes before the first responders get here. Joseph realizes he's still clutching the man's wallet and keys. Despite what they've just seen, and how shaken they feel, all present feel a threadbare, tense burst of energy within them, the sense of a desperate push, like the rally to finish a project after a full night's work.
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May 19, 2014 21:27
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