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Magnificent Max "Thank you dear, it was inspired, inspired. Such a performance. I don't like to speak to soon...but perhaps a new star is being born in this city? Ho ho, you're too kind! We shall have to bring you back soon, very soon..." As Buccha flounces out of the studio and makes her way back down Gull Hill, I let out a breath that I didn't know I had been holding and let go a smile that I was painfully aware I was keeping plastered upon my face. I look to Dear Susan, the existential angst written clearly on my visage. She shrugs. "I told you, sir," she says uncharitably. And she had. And I hadn't listened. Because I'm magnificent. I'm Magnificent Max. "I couldn't say no," I protest uselessly. "She's beautiful." "Yeah," says Susan as she bustles in the talent for the next scene. "Which is real handy. You know. For radio." "She wasn't that bad. Surely she wasn't that bad?" I ask desperately. Dear Susan doesn't dignify the question with a response. * As the Comptroller, one of my faithful stringers, lays the bad news out for me, I hold my chin in my hand and sink into a spare chair. It's a talent of mine. The Proscenium is busier than an anthill- it's too small a building for the number of people coming and going, not to mention the #1 Fan Club Boys posted here and there to keep everything civil- and no matter what, without fail, I am able to find a free chair to settle myself into. It's not just on Gull Hill- I can do it anywhere. Throw me into the Coffin Flats (but please, don't really, I'm a man of delicate constitution) and without fail, all I will have to do is consider taking a seat and there, look, a spare chair. It's uncanny. "So I don't know what he's getting the beef together for, but it can't be good for you. Or us," the Comptroller finally says, and goes silent. I'm still holding my chin in my hand. It's a desperately sage position to take. Pure magic if you need a few moments to get your head together. "My dear boy," I say finally, "do you know why Fuzz is so dead set against me?" "No," says the Comptroller, somewhat confused. "Back when Fuzz ran the February Boys, he made some mistakes. Got a lot of his boys killed when they crossed the Cemetery. You know and I know, you don't cross the Cemetery, not unless you have a great deal more fellows than they do, which if unlikely, or if you know something that they don't, which is equally unlikely. And so, the February Boys disbanded and Fuzz went on to scavving, working for himself. Which is all fine and well. However, I thought that little incident would be a stirring episode of the Story so I...reinterpreted it, added it to the script. And it worked. It was riveting. People were enthralled." I pause, and light one of the evil smelling cigars they make over in Kreigsgrad. "People were also very aware that it was Fuzz who inspired that particular arc. I turned him into a laughingstock, parading his failures in front of my listeners. He wasn't happy about that, and from the sounds of it, remains that way." Dear Susan glares at me from across the studio where she's overseeing the effects men with their props. She hates it when I smoke around the machines. The Comptroller looks enthralled. "But gently caress him!" I cry good-naturedly and slap my stringer on the back. "It was good art! So now that he's recruiting again, I think that perhaps it's time to dust that character off, and bring him back! Susan!" I shout as fumble about for a bit of pencil. I begin to scribble new notes on old paper, new scenes, line cues for the actors to improvise around. "We're bringing back the Craven Prince! It's time for people to remember what happens when they sign on to work for that particular cretin! A whole new arc, re-illustrating the appalling failures of command he's so famous for!" I wave at the Ombudsman with my cigar as he gets up to go. "Hold on a moment, old fellow. I have a task for you, if you don't mind. I think it's time that the steeplejack and I cleared the air between us, certainly before Fuzz gets his hooks in her. Could you be a gentleman and ask her to meet me? I feel that this is unfinished business that's gone on too long." And with that, it's showtime. But first, a word from our sponsors. It's not cheap running the City's only mass-media outlet, and it's time to remind my dear public of that. Rally to the Cause: 2d6+2 10 Spending 1 hold to have the audience send in supplies worth 2-barter. That'll pay off my upkeep and I'll keep the second hold for now. Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 03:40 on Jul 27, 2017 |
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Jul 27, 2017 03:18
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Magnificent Max Juice. The juiciest juice. I blow smoke rings after a considered pull on the hideous cigar, and look contemplative. Time is coming up for a bit of news, something to give the listeners a break from the narrative of The Story (and for the actors to take a break, the craven curs) and some juice, the juiciest juice, would be just what the doctor ordered. I could sweat him about the whys, wherefores and whatnots, do my due diligence, but it's the juiciest juice and News Time is coming up in five, four, three, and I only have one question. "You have it. Just tell me, is it the truth?" Read a Person: 2d6+1 11 Is your character telling the truth?
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Jul 28, 2017 03:29
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 Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold, 2-hold "Dear listeners, the Story, your Story, our story will return in but a few moments. In the meantime, it is I, your friend, your compatriot, your guide through the dark veins of this dead city, the hand in yours, the one who understands you. "Magnificent Max. "Today we have with us here in the studio one of you, a voice from the streets, who has come to share with us some news, some information. Some juice, that I am assured is the juiciest, so juicy that even I, Magnificent Max, have not heard it. I will be experiencing this revelation with you, dear listeners. As always. With you every moment. "But enough about me. Let's hear what our guest has to say. Please sir, identify yourself if you wish, or gird yourself with anonymity. But share with us your story." I look expectantly at Fugari, and gesture with my cigar. Get on with it, the smoking brand says.
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Jul 31, 2017 03:06
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally), 1-hold (Read a Person) poo poo. poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo drat. "We've met," I manage to say without a stammer. Which is a feat, I'm not ashamed to say. I've been getting tidbits from Fugari for years, and I've never known that Gripp was his brother. There was a lot I didn't know about Gripp, apparently. I knew he was was for the Church, of course, ever since he came to Gull Hill representing their interests and trying to turn my station into their mouthpiece. Like most, I try and steer clear of them, and I didn't fancy becoming their propaganda outlet. However. I didn't know that Gripp was a white warrior. "My friend," I say into the mic, "thank you for your statement. This is, I'm sure we can all agree, alarming news. The white warriors haven't been seen, as longtime listeners will remember, for years, not since the schism in the Church. As we all know, this was when the more...radical elements splintered off to form the Burning Time. Can you tell us more about what the aims of the Church might be? Or perhaps what would drive your own brother to take the Vow?" Spending 1-hold: What is your character really feeling? Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 02:10 on Aug 3, 2017 |
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Aug 3, 2017 01:54
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) "My friend, with this sort of news, I believe that we're all worried. A war like the one we're discussing, it's nothing that bodes well for any of us. But, while it touches us all, you've told us how it gives you particular cause for concern. Given your personal connection, the tie you spoke about, what do you intend to do? What kind of advice can you give our listeners for the coming conflict?" Spending my last hold
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Aug 4, 2017 16:26
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) I tilt my head. It's a gesture that's perhaps a little less subtle than I meant it to be, a side affect of working in radio. I'm used to people not being able to see me. "Nor do any of us. Thank you for your time and words, my friend. Before we sign off for this particular episode and return you to the Story, I'd like anyone listening to do their best, to remember what it is to be human, to look out after one another. These are uncertain times- times of war, times of strife. It becomes easier and easier to look out for number one only, to fracture and split, but I ask you all not to work miracles, but only to do your best. It's all I myself can do, and it's all I can ask of you. This is Magnificent Max, your friend, your ally, the light in the darkness that tells you that no, you are not alone. Good afternoon, City. "I love you." Dear Susan signals that we're off the air, and I lead Fugari out of the studio proper, and offer him a seat. "Thank you for your time, Fugari, I had no idea you had such potential as a broadcaster. You have the voice, the cadences, that precision, that sense of exactly what to say and how to say it. And of course, what to leave out. "So what did you not want to say on the air?"
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Aug 7, 2017 10:23
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) "You're right about one thing, Fugari. I do need to stay independent. Do you know what your brother wanted me to broadcast for the Church? "Names. "None of their sermons, none of their hymns, just names. The names of apostates, of heretics, of infidels.They wanted everyone to know who the Church considered their enemies. They wanted those names spread across the City and they wanted everyone else to know that if something happened to those people, then they'd be dong the Church's work. Yes, I know that they do that anyway, with their gossiping and their tracts. But if they put their Lists on the radio it would tell everyone in this city who can listen, that there's nowhere to run from the Church." I look at my cigar. It's gone out in all the excitement. I pause to relight it. Spillay makes good matches, sells them at the markets. Look at the fire, look through the fire at Fugari. "I will burn Gull Hill myself before I allow them to do that." * It's later, and I've calmed down a little bit. I don't expect any grief from the Church- it's early days yet and I imagine that they have bigger fish to fry than your humble broadcaster. Or even your grandiose broadcaster. What I do need to do, however, is start talking to people. It would be easy, my dear, so easy to knuckle under, to let the Church win, but of course that lacks the magnificence that I'm known for. As such, I'm at the Markets, seeking audience with August Grandmother. "Kro, hello my boy. You're looking fit and well," I say to one her Charming Grandsons. I know them all by name, of course, but Kro is not my usual contact, and I would prefer to speak with my usual man before I go knocking on the chambers of the Auguat Grandmother. "Have you seen Guo Lin?"
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Aug 11, 2017 16:05
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) "No, nothing like that my dear fellow. I would like the honor of an audience with your August Grandmother and he is my usual man to arrange that. Odd, I wonder what-" Kro's attention is taken by a commotion, and as such, mine is as well. I follow, curious. Curiosity may be bad for cats, but for a broadcaster, it's neccessary.
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Aug 14, 2017 13:50
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) I file away the parties in the conflict for later. It appears that something is afoot with the 4-Way Stoppers, is it just more of the usual gang shoulders-rubbing? "August Grandmother, how kind of you to take some time from your schedule to speak with me. And let me compliment you on the performance of your Charming Grandson here. Civilized restraint, always a laudable approach to conflict, it's a credit to you and the Markets." I walk with August Grandmother through the Markets. It's nice. The crowds and the bustle part before her, not because of the cadre of Charming Grandsons who shadow here before and without, but because people know who she is, and what she represents. Her reputation, her force of personality, her authority are as much a shield to her as the glowering armed men who accompany her. I have some small power on Gull Hill, with my Number One Fan Club Boys to ensure that no little fish come to nibble at our operation. But August Grandmother's presence is something of a magnitude greater than my own that it's almost visible, almost tangible. I can almost taste it. Like hot lemon tea, smelling of cordite. "If you've been listening to our broadcast today, then you may already know what is going on. If you might recall from our previous conversations, Gripp, one of the Church's belligerents, came to me in the past with a rather repellent proposition that I become their propaganda mouthpiece, and I showed him the door. Now, the Church is girding themselves for war, Gripp has taken the Vow, and I worry that Gull Hill's independence may be an item on their program, so to speak. "Of course, that is my direct concern. I've worked too hard to build the Proscenium, Gull Hill, the Fan Club, everything, to sleep well when its enemies are afoot. What we do is too important for this city to have it perverted into reading the Church's Lists. But the Church gearing up for war is bad for us all." I stop, and sigh. Unbidden, a grin flits across my face like a gull's shadow as I catch a snatch of The Story coming from a radio someone has set up at a stall, an audience seated around it. "What I've come for, August Grandmother, is to ask your wisdom. If you would do me the honor of sharing your opinion with a humble showman, what is your read on this situation?"
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Aug 17, 2017 15:21
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) Interesting. I hadn't thought that August Grandmother tied our fortunes so closely together. That she does is good. IN the times that are coming, I will require all the help that I can get. However, that opens up another question. August Grandmother suggests that we stand someone else in front of the Church. For that matter, I thought I had heard talk that the 4-Way Stoppers... "August Grandmother, I appreciate your advice and your support. I always treasure the bonds between the Markets and Gull Hill. I have some snooping to do, but I will convene with you again when I have something new." I bow, even though August Grandmother is too sharp for common flatteries, I know that she still appreciates it on some level. Then I head into the crowd. Going to find the Zomwell, the Stopper supporter that got 86d if they're still near.
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Aug 24, 2017 01:21
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP ●○○○○» | 1-hold (Rally) "Why, you're a big fellow, aren't you!" I say with cheer that I hope is not too obviously forced. Still being in the Markets proper, I'm not in any terrible peril (compared to the rest of the City, I suppose), but I was correct in my statement: he is a big fellow. A big bastard, even, huge. "My name is Magnificent Max, my good friend, and if you know about me, and you must, you know that I like to talk to people! Our Zomwell is affiliated with the 4-Way Stoppers, and I thought that I might speak with him about some recent City events!" Read a Person: 2d6+1 4 welp Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 00:25 on Aug 27, 2017 |
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Aug 26, 2017 21:09
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP 2/5 » | 1-hold (Rally) They probably won't like you much. "But," I say, "everyone likes me!" Nothing for it, then. I control the news in this City, and August Grandmother controls trade. But that's not enough. And if your enemy is already fighting someone, then the wise move is to offer that someone a hand. Back to the markets, to talk to August Grandmother and see if she wants to send a representative with me, and then back to Gull Hill to pick up a couple of the Number One Fan Club Boys. And then to the mid-upper west side, to see if the 4-Way Stoppers are interested in a chat.
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Aug 30, 2017 13:36
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP 2/5 » | 1-hold (Rally) "It's about heroes and villains." I'm talking to Three AC in a 4-Way Stopper bunk, in 4-Way Stopper turf. It stinks like cordite, wounds and cheap smoke, the latter of which I'm trying to drown out with one of my Kriegsgrad cigars, the mate to the one Three AC has jammed in his unsmiling face. I have a couple of the #1 Fan Club Boys with me, enough to make me look like less of a fool than had I come alone, but not enough to be a threat. It should be common knowledge that I don't dabble in gang wars and border squabbles, at least not up until now. Three AC's not the boss, I'd never get an audience with the boss, but Three AC is as high a soldier as I'm going to be able to speak with. I impress him, and I've done what I've set out to do. "To the Church, they're the heroes, and the Stoppers are the villains. No one sees themselves as the man in the black hat in the drama that is their life, now do they? However, you see yourselves as the heroes in this conflict, with the Church as the antagonists, white clothing notwithstanding." I pause to drag on my cigar dramatically. "But this conflict with the Church isn't something that concerns only the 4-Way Stoppers. I think it's something that could be bigger, not a brushfire but a bonfire. And I also think this City, our poor, black, dead City, has burned enough by now. So I want to stamp out this fire. I want to stamp it dead. "And I think you want the same. And I want to help you." I lean back, put both hands through my hair, the very picture of a serious man about serious business. It is serious business, of course. But my mind is still back at Gull Hill. Ever since the broadcast, I've been dreading the emissary. Because the Church was going to send an emissary, because they're the Church. They deal in ultimatums. "It's about heroes and villains. You see yourselves as heroes. But what if I helped the rest of the City see you the same way? What if I could make it so that everyone who listens to my station, and that is a wide demographic, heard about the valiant battle that the 4-Way Stoppers, defenders of the City, were fighting with the craven, grasping, evil empire of the Church?" Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 02:22 on Sep 6, 2017 |
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Sep 6, 2017 02:17
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP 2/5 » | 1-hold (Rally) I draw on my cigar contemplatively. "You are correct, spot on. There is no deal to present. That is because I didn't come here to deal. I'm not trying to make some kind of transaction. This thing with the Church, it isn't a business opportunity for me. It's a war, and as I, and my people, am on the Church's poo poo list, I want their side to lose. And as you are at the front line of that war, I've come to offer my support in order to make that happen." I lean forward, put my gumboots on the ground (incongruous with the air of desperate refinement I try to cultivate, but we live, nowadays, in what is effectively a crater) and rest my elbows on my knees. "I'm not here to deal. I'm here to offer my support, and I want to make sure that your boss knows that. I'm here to show you that Gull Hill, the Markets and the 4-Way Stop stand together against the Church. I'm here not with a deal for profit but with a proposal for mutual benefit-" thin, Max, thin I think to myself, "and, I'm assured, mutual victory." I lean back, and attend the cigar. It's almost done. "They say that it's the winners of the war who tell the story. I say, the telling of the story? That's what makes the winners." Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 21:15 on Sep 11, 2017 |
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Sep 11, 2017 20:53
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP 2/5 » | 1-hold (Rally) "What did Mox tell you?" Dear Susan's not here, not where I am right now, away from my beloved Gull Hill, away from the Markets, where I so love to loiter and bathe in humanity. Away from the people I love and the people who care for me. A wracking cough shakes through me, and I spit something that doesn't bear looking at into the greasy ash under my gumboots. I light one of those excellent matches off a thumbnail and kindle another black cigar and puff out rings of smoke over the city I see before me. Carcinogen halos for an ashen angel. "What did Mox tell you?" Susan's voice won't go away, echoing through my mind as if she were right there. She's not, of course. She's back at Gull Hill, keeping the tubes hot, making sure that the story goes on, ushering guests in and out and keeping the radio waves running through the city. But I can still hear her. Because it wasn't what Mox told me that stays with me. It's Dear Susan asking about it. "What did Mox tell you?" "She told me she was sorry," I tell Susan. "She told me that there was nothing SeaDee See could do. "She told me I was dying."
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Sep 15, 2017 03:49
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP 2/5 » | 1-hold (Rally) If you live long enough, you will see yourself grow into an old man. I've lived that long, though I'm not that old a man. I've grown grey, an accomplishment in this City. I've made friends, watched them die, and made something. But I've taken comfort so far in believing that I've not grown into a stupid old man, despite popular opinion. Until today, I suppose as I sit in Preacher Mark's hovel, smoking my cigars and listening to his claptrap. The problem is, I'm not treating it like claptrap. I'm treating it like it might save my life. "The Lord saves all who believe, you say." This is normally when I do the 'interview', regardless of the presence of a microphone. But I'm off my game here, because my broadcaster's skepticism has been rattled by my own mortality, and despite myself, I'm halfway to believing in Preacher Mark's Lord. More than halfway, if I'm being honest. So I try. I try and believe, like I believe in life, and friends, and people being people and stories. And I open up. Two stupid old men. OPEN YOUR BRAIN TO THE LORD: 2d6+1 10
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Sep 20, 2017 01:38
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Cool-1 | Hard=0 | Hot+2 | Sharp+1 | Weird+1 | 1-armor | 1-barter | 0:00 harm | XP 2/5 » | 1-hold (Rally) "Stupid old man," I say to myself, and cough. My mouth tastes like someone washed an ashtray out with cheap wine and poured it down my neck. Which, of course, is more or less what happened. I met Preacher Mark's King James, I suppose. Large black fellow with an expressive face. He told me that everything was going to be alright, that when I died, there would still be something. But that was a lie. If there was going to be anything left after I died, I'd have to make it. I shake off Preacher Mark's solicitous hands, and reach for my old radio and crank it as fast as my shaking hands will allow. I need to hear the broadcast. I need to hear it all the way back to Gull Hill, where the tubes are hot and the mic is hot and with them, I can light my own funeral pyre.
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Sep 26, 2017 00:31
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