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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: So, post made.
Sni'kti and Caterina have been advanced in the timeline. Van, Caterina cast Protection From Evil. It was the closest thing to Armor in the Paladin's List. Armor would have provided a +4 deflection bonus whereas PfE provided a +2 in addition to eliminating it's ability to physically touch her or possess her. I also used up almost all of her LUCK points to keep her alive and successfully defending. You'll regain one LUCK point each time you post.
It looks like gboy is joining us as well, but we've yet for anyone taking an interest in picking up the two characters already made. I've also got to revamp some histories a bit and release those to the players.
This is shaping up nicely though.
Posted on 2008-11-10 at 06:36:32.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: That's good to know.
Thanks for clearing it up.
Posted on 2008-11-10 at 05:20:40.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: An update for some, but not for all.
I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:57am
“And you expect us to do something about this? And for what? No,” Kremlin chuckled. “No, Mr. Spiff. I think better question, what do you expect we do?”
The lights reflecting off of the windows cast deep shadows across Kremlin’s face as the limo sped along the freeway back towards the docks. The men in the back of the limousine with Spiff were all intently watching the fixer, waiting for the answer.
I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:57am
New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:41pm
“Just looking to talk,” he said as Guardian drew closer. “Would prefer to talk someplace a little less…imposing. There’s an offer on the table that I think you should listen to. Shall we continue on up the stairs?”
Scribe was intrigued—a little concerned, but intrigued nonetheless. As they continued their brisk pace towards the stairs, the security truck behind them blared a demand for all of them to stop where they are.
“Alright,” Scribe said as he refrained from looking back over his shoulder. “Where’d you have in mind?”
“There’s a car outside of the mallplex,” the man said as he turned to match their pace. “We can meet privately there.”
“No,” Scribe said. “No place you choombas would find familiar, and we’re obviously not going to be able to find a place to sit undisturbed in the foodcourt—“ They arrived at the stairs and double-timed it up back the way the other fellow had come. “—I know of a place nearby…”
“Fair enough,” the man said, and followed. Guardian then realized that the second fellow hadn’t joined them in the stairs. Behind them the screech of tires sounded and the shouts of men could be heard.
It took a few more seconds to reach the door leading to the first floor of the mallplex, and when they did they found it locked, secured by the electronic security system.
“Damn!” Scribe muttered, not taking his eyes off the suit. Suspicion filled his head: where was the second man? Where was security? They had to be hot on their heels.
“We may not be going anywhere,” the suit grinned. “So, I’ll be quick.
“You blokes were compromised, but not necessarily how you likely suspect. I’ve taken care of the problem…temporarily. My employer has an interest in your success, so I was sent to make sure that your enemy wasn’t successful in offing you. Consider Phase One complete.”
“And what of security? What of our current situation?” Frankie wasn’t dismissing the idea that this could all be bull, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that this fellow could have pulled on them at any time and he hadn’t yet. Besides, megacorps were always playing against one another, and the idea that Biotechnica had one of their enemies in the game wasn’t too farfetched.
“They’ll be here momentarily, but I can take care of that as well.”
“And your partner?”
“Wasn’t working with me,” the suit said with an amicable grin. “Besides, I think he went off-shift recently.”
“Guardian?” Scribe could read faces, he could even read body language fairly well, but this guy wasn’t reading. So, the media was relying on his bodyguard’s experience to make the call.
New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:42pm
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:08am
Firewind was absolutely astounded when MDK bolted around the corner and began running. He couldn’t believe the level of the man’s insanity! Hadn’t he just said that they were outpositioned?
Bull’s Eye swore when MDK made his rush, but he followed nonetheless. With his weapon ready he darted forward, trying to see past the bobbing form of the assassin. Croaker had damn well better appreciate all of this!
Peacekeeper was less impulsive, reaching the corner the other two men had just rounded, she paused long enough to check behind them, looking down the hall that would be the direction reinforcements would be coming from.
“Stay here and watch that way,” she ordered, pointing down the hall with her submachine gun before clenching her jaw and rounding the corner in pursuit of her companions.
Firewind glanced at Freeway and Lightning and then motioned back down the hall. “Should we move to that corner?” he asked, forced to speak loudly over the alarms.
For MDK the hall was open, a very real shooting gallery. He was in the open and his opponents were all using doorframes or corners as cover. The first two popped out and fired off rounds from handguns, the bullets whistled past his head, and he just continued to press on, weapons blaring. The first of his shots ate drywall, ripping through the plaster and the metal doorframe. It impacted the left shoulder of the target and staggered him back against the wall. The whiteheat from the round engulfed the man’s shoulder with fire and he screamed, but MDK couldn’t determine the extent of the wound. His next round, however, found the man’s head, and he died a very quick death.
The second pair of people rounded their corner and fired. MDK felt the impact of the rounds striking the armor of his chest and lower abdomen. It turned him slightly, staggered his step and he knew instinctively that they were firing large caliber rounds his way. Large caliber versus any armor spells danger, plus these were corporate soldiers, and not the kind in the fatigues, so these were likely using a higher tech of ammunitions. But now was not the time to reconsider.
The bullets were flying now and Peacekeeper was the last in line so she had a pretty good seat for the show. She saw when MDK staggered after taking out the first of the four men they were facing down, but she hadn’t much time for concern as Bull’s Eye suddenly staggered and hit the wall with his right shoulder as he went down. He spun about, his submachine gun being flung backward over his head, which resulted in it flying after MDK, and Peacekeeper saw that he’d been hit in chest. Again, no time to worry as the bullets were still flying.
Peacekeeper slid to a stop and leveled her handgun. She’d slung the machinegun over her shoulder as she’d rounded the corner and had replaced it with her .44. Smartchipped and rigged to go the bounty hunter leveled her handgun at the other who’d taken position across from the one that MDK had just dusted, and popped off a couple of rounds. She was rewarded with the second of the two striking the man in the throat and spraying arterial blood all over the wall behind him.
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:08am
Posted on 2008-11-10 at 05:17:39.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: ADD!?
I received the answers. I'll work up a character sheet right after Sui's.
Posted on 2008-11-10 at 04:18:07.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: Sui
Sui was playing a rogue, but that doesn't mean there can't be more than one.
Posted on 2008-11-10 at 02:23:00.
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Topic: The Embodiment - A FUZIONfantasy Game
Subject: A Fight, and a Meeting
The dread creature’s nose wrinkled at his prey’s response, and as Caterina began to utter her prayer for Rydor’s protection it lunged forward and slashed at her throat with the black dagger. The paladin arched backward, some strands of her hair being severed as they flew before her face, but the blade missed, and unfazed, she continued her prayer.
She’d been forced to take a step backward, allowing the massive reach of this demonic being to cover the range between them, and as she continued her prayer, it lunged again, but its hoof found no purchase on the fallen fruit and sweetbread, causing it to misstep and the blade to slash the air to her right. Caterina’s voice remained unwavering as she lifted it a bit louder.
The creature snarled a word that sounded as though it were heaving phlegm from its throat and lashed out again at his target, but Caterina ducked under the blow, her prayer uninterrupted, as she went underneath and towards the railing.
It wasn’t finished, rolling about and slashing once more, gray spittle flying from its mouth as its elusive prey once again dodged its attack, moving within a couple of feet of the tray. It was then that the last of her prayer was uttered and the warmth of Rydor’s protection washed over her engulfing her body in the sensation of being embraced while the air about her wavered and momentarily filled with motes of golden light that fell gently to the floor.
Caterina darted forward, her magical blade held back as though to strike, while it held its greatsword before it with one of its massive hands as it readied a defense, the left drawing the dagger back, its wicked blade poised to be buried in his foe’s flesh. His narrowed eyes widened slightly as the paladin’s stance suddenly changed and she ducked low to snatch the silver tray by its handle, recoiling from the creature’s proximity.
It snarled another word Caterina didn’t recognize just before lunging forward and slashing at her with its dagger. Caterina’s sword turned the attack aside with a heavenly ringing sound. Rolling to the left the paladin slashed at the creature, only half intent on successfully striking it as she determined to take the fight into the drawing room. The creature was intent upon stopping her retreat though, and it lunged forward prematurely, unable to rotate its massive body out of the way of her slashing strike, and Caterina felt her blade slice easily through the muscle of its shoulder.
It snarled in pain and slashed at her once more with the dagger while holding the greatsword ready to defend once more. But Caterina deflected the attack once more with her own blade. She felt the metal connect and her arm vibrated from the impact. The creature was very strong indeed, as strong as a horse at least, perhaps the strongest she’d ever faced.
Stepping backward, Caterina slashed again, attempting to keep the baleful creature at bay as she retreated towards the drawing room, and in doing so, her next slashing attack went wide as the beast withdrew its belly from danger. The beast followed closely, its eyes wide as it flipped the dagger about in its hand and brought it down in an overhead strike that Caterina was lucky to deflect; this time with a full knowledge of the potential force behind the blow.
She was forced to step backward, navigating by memory as she kept the fell creature in her line of sight. Upon feeling the doorframe strike her back at the left shoulder blade, Caterina spun into the warmth of the drawing room, slashing at the advancing beast as she did so. The tip of her blade cut deep into the pectoral muscle of Ethain’s killer releasing a gush of brackish blackish blood that poured down its ribs and mated with the hair of its lower body. Unfortunately, the attack didn’t appear to phase it, and this beast was much faster than its size would have indicated, and it was right on her, pressing through the doorframe with all of its bulk, its wings folding in tightly against its body, the dagger, not the sword, held ready before it, its wounds apparently not deterring its determined assault. With a bellow that echoed through the halls, the creature slashed at her with the dagger once more, a blow that she was again able to turn, though it had to of been a combination of the protection from her god and luck that effected her deflection of the blade. Again, her arm ached as the power of the blow was carried through her blade.
Within the drawing room, Caterina stood with the tray in hand, her bloodied longsword held before her ready to continue facing down the angered and wounded beast bearing the strange brand and the black-bladed weapons.
Sna’kti glanced up at the Captain again and sipped from his mug of warm honeyed ale as he mulled over what he had just heard.
“I am eating,” was all he said as he turned back to eating his kidney pie, and slurping his beef and lentil soup.
“I noticed,” the captain intoned with a dryness that didn’t match his wet condition. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the king of Pardinal has summoned you, Kazari. When a Menbren summons you, it is my duty to make sure that you acknowledge the summons with alacrity.”
The Kazari picked up his mug and took another sip of his honeyed ale as he looked up at the Captain and the determination on his face. He weighed his options; he knew he could probably take these four men with a sudden hand to hand attack, but then what kind of trouble he would be in.
Sitting the mug down after draining the last of it, he stood up and wiped his whiskers off on his arm. He had decided that his curiosity had the better of him; he had to know what his Majesty wanted for him.
“Well his Majesty had best feed me,” he said as he started towards the door, “I don’t like missing a meal.”
The weather hadn’t relented any and the soldiers did their best to show some dignity in the face of its wrath as they led the way, two in front, two behind Sna’kti through the nearly deserted streets towards the rain-slick black walls of the castle. It was a long walk and the rain made it a miserable one at that, but the benefit of being escorted by the guards was that they weren’t hindered as they went through the gate, or up the wide, sweeping stairs, or through the huge, reinforced doors. The halls inside were cold-looking and sparsely decorated, but guards were all over the place standing ready to respond to the slightest indication of danger. Sna’kti wasn’t led into the throne room, but down a stretch of halls that bore very little in the way of invitation to a room that must have been in the very back of the castle. It was here that he first met with the king of Pardinal: Beraunnis Menbren.
Beraunnis was seated in an oversize, cushioned chair covered with a deep blue felt. He was thin, frail-looking, and had a blanket over his lap that was thick and quilted. His head was cradled by another quilt that wrapped around his shoulders allowing it to rest in the crook of the chair’s embrace. The king’s hair was white, thin, and straggly, damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead and hollow-looking cheeks. His chin and upper lip were spotted with a thin layer of white facial hair, and his eyes appeared to be sunken. His hands were skeletal, and his left gripped the arm of the chair while the right firmly held a slightly bloodied rag. He wore a rich blue smoking gown, and the only pieces of jewelry on his person was the amulet about his neck and the signet ring on his right hand. At his side stood a tall fellow with the expression of a mortician. His face was long and angular. His hair was cut in a bowl cut and was as black as a moonless midnight. A thick mustache covered his upper lip, and his beady eyes were narrowed as they took in the appearance of the rain-soaked Kazari and his guard escort. His outfit was wealthy and of various shades of gold and red, and unlike the servants who attended the fire and the various other needs pertaining to the room, he carried a scimitar at his waste and the amulet about his neck had a gemstone that seemed to catch the limited light in the room and imprison it deep within.
There was also a priest of Lysora sitting near the fire. The man was plump and bore a flushed face. He wore the traditional garb of a temple priest, and carried no weapon. When Sna’kti and the guards entered, the feline noticed that the man glanced at him, but returned his gaze to the fire after seeing who it was who’d arrived.
“This is he then?” It was the man at the king’s side that spoke, not the king.
“It is, Lord Ontzlere.”
“Leave us.” Ontzlere didn’t move his body at all as he spoke, and the thickness of his mustaches kept Sna’kti from seeing his mouth move much as he spoke.
The guards saluted and then sharply made their escape, leaving Sna’kti alone in the room with the king, Lord Ontzlere, the priest of Lysora, and three servants.
“I hear tell that you are something to behold on the field of battle,” Lord Ontzlere spoke crisply and articulated everything very carefully.
(OOC: regardless of the answer.)
“The Kingdom has a need for your services.” Lord Ontzlere continued to stare at the Kazari without expression on his long face. “It seems that there’s a cave near the city of Visden where a creature was imprisoned some centuries ago. The scholars that were consulted on the matter have determined it from a previous rule where creatures of some power and dubious intention controlled the country. Historically speaking, the people—ancestors to the great families of this kingdom—rose up and deposed their rule, but they weren’t able to kill the most powerful of these, and just succeeded in imprisoning her. As you’ve likely surmised, her prison was within this cave.
“Unfortunately, it has been brought to our attention that the prison has been tampered with, and certain events in the area have led us to determine that this being is building her power, and still operating from this location. Of course, we’ve yet to be able to determine whether this is fact, or assumption as our scrying has been defeated, and no scout has yet returned. This is where you come in. The king would like you to travel to the cave and ascertain whether this threat exists, and should you determine you’ve an opportunity to put an end to the threat, the Kingdom would be most appreciative. If you determine that the threat is too great for you, return and we’ll send in the proverbial cavalry.
“You will, of course, be well compensated.”
Posted on 2008-11-09 at 23:46:22.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: No problem.
I'll post a continuance for Snickers, and will post a follow up for Caterina.
Posted on 2008-11-09 at 20:19:37.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: I'm not the one with the reputation as a player killer.
That's Roger and Olan...
You're pretty close gboy. Close enough that I think you will understand the concept. You work out the concept and let me worry about putting the character sheet together. There's a series of questions in the recruitment thread for you to provide me the answers to. Alternatively, there are two characters already created whose players vanished from the face of the Inn that you could pick up if they appeal to you.
Sui, I'll try to have your character added to the scheme of things shortly.
Posted on 2008-11-09 at 20:16:35.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Thanks
The world is Audalis.
I'll see what I can throw together.
Posted on 2008-11-09 at 08:31:38.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: I have not heard of that game.
Let me know.
I think my rules scare players.
Posted on 2008-11-08 at 00:30:23.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Did I miss something too?
I don't see anything further for me to go off of unless I missed an email ad well.
Posted on 2008-11-08 at 00:27:30.
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Topic: help the webmaster, part deux!
Subject: So?
Did he win?
Posted on 2008-11-08 at 00:25:25.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: No takers?
No one's interested in taking over the two characters that are already created?
To look the sheets over, check out the Q&A thread and click on the character names.
Posted on 2008-11-07 at 15:34:30.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Van...?
I was hoping for a post from Vanadia so I could continue this on this weekend. Is that still possible, Van?
Also, Sui, I'm going to need more information. Such as where he's from, race, any mundane items he absolutely has to have, etc. I like what I'm seeing so far though.
Posted on 2008-11-07 at 15:32:18.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I am here to help.
It is what I do, Choomba.
Posted on 2008-11-06 at 22:58:47.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Sorry
But yeah, Croaker is strapped down. And no. He can't hear the firefight or the alarm.
Posted on 2008-11-06 at 18:42:28.
Edited on 2008-11-06 at 18:43:58 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: After the circus leaves...
Char's posture slowly changed as events unfolded. He went from sitting attentively during the instructional conversation to the edge of his seat as Maximus crashed to the floor. From there he settled back in his chair, and as the warriors went crashing into each other, the educated wizard pulling a disappearing act the likes of which reminded Char of the invisible wizards from the tower, and then reappearing wrapped about Gwanelle only to fall to the ground...when all was said and done, Char was reclined, leg swung over the arm of the chair, his signature half smile riding rampant on his face. Out of the corner of his eye the ranger caught sight of Da'Moon hiding her mirth. He wasn't so cautious. A deep chuckle rolled from down inside his chest.
Of course, that ended when Dwan bellowed at the performers. Though the chuckling ended, the irreverent grin didn't. Shifting, Char had to admit to himself as he ran a hand across his beard, that he was a bit disappointed that the fun was over. They'd have precious little time or content to laugh about once they began their trek.
Dean's request for additional questions didn't spark any from the dirty woodsman, and barring any of the others raising questions, Char rolled smoothly from his chair and readjusted his leather armor, which had shifted uncomfortably during the meeting.
"Well den," he drawled easily. "Alls dat lef' be t' deci' where we be meetin' t' set out' on dis 'venture."
Once that's decided, he'll make his farewell and go off to take care of reprovisioning and remaining preparations before being required to address the matter of the investigation.
Posted on 2008-11-04 at 02:52:08.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Thank you
I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
Great beginning post, YeOlde! I had hoped you weren't going to
Portray Snickers as the lovable furball.
Oh, don't sell yourself short, Vanadia. You always played Caterina very well. As a matter-of-fact, Caterina has always been one of my favorite characters to GM for. I'm glad she's back in play.
Posted on 2008-11-04 at 02:43:01.
Edited on 2008-11-04 at 02:48:02 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: In place
The next leg is in place. I will strive to post again Sunday.
Posted on 2008-11-03 at 14:42:09.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: More!
New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:40pm
"Scribe. Here's what we'll do. On three, we stand up and walk slowly at a regular pace towards the stairwell as if we belonged here," Guardian whispered. "That'll leave the tails two options: either they'll let us pass or not. If not, move behind me and give them hell." He would much rather have entered a close quarters situation with his sword drawn out. But of course that would leave no possibility for everyone to survive the encounter. No one walked with a Kendachi in hand without an intention to kill someone. No one. Therefore Guardian would only have rely on his sense of combat, the Sandevistan speedware and the Smartgun linked .44.
"One... two... three.", as the last "e" died out, Guardian stood up like anyone who'd dropped his keys or something. He wasn't rushing or moving too slow and controlled either. The movement of the bodyguard was casual, almost relaxed. He didn't look around other than turned his head toward DS and nodded a couple of times as if replying to something the other man had said, and then started walking towards the fire escape. It would only be natural for anyone to take a look at a person passing him by and therefore Guardian's eyes were locked into the tails as he moved.
Guardian’s gamble paid off. DigitalScribe was used to improvising as his line of work was very rarely scripted, but it took a lot of willpower to rise up from the relative protection that the alley between the two vehicles provided. The camera on his shoulder swiveled, matching his gaze, and he knew due to the mindlink the cyberware provided him that it was recording everything.
Scribe had come to realize that the camera would invoke one of two responses from individuals in a potentially hazardous situation: the first, and most common, would be that they’d hesitate before doing anything drastic, and the second would be that they’d act immediately to the threat that the camera posed. He obviously would know within seconds which of these two those present would choose.
Acknowledging Guardian’s nod with as casual a grin as he could, Scribe followed him out from between the vehicles, remaining within a couple of paces of the big man’s flowing trench coat. He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder; the PIP screen showed the security SUV picking up speed, the light bar atop its smooth roof illuminating the garage with flashing yellow. Since Guardian was pretending not to notice, so did Scribe. Instead, he followed the large black man’s move and looked their shadows in the eyes (as much as the sunglasses allowed) as they passed, his camera following suite.
The two suits paused momentarily, apparently unsure of how to proceed, and as the pair they’d been following drew up near they were swallowed up by more indecision. It wasn’t until Guardian was past the first of the two, putting them in line to come within a few meters of the second, that the two men acted. The first spun about so that he was gaining a little on Scribe, and the second put a friendly smile on his face and held his hands wide.
“Just looking to talk,” he said as Guardian drew closer. “Would prefer to talk someplace a little less…imposing. There’s an offer on the table that I think you should listen to. Shall we continue on up the stairs?”
New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:41pm
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:56pm
MDK’s rush was an effective slaughterhouse. Followed up by Peacekeeper’s assault and there was nothing left but blood splattered walls and crumpled bodies lying within the elevator alcove. What’s more was that Peacekeeper was pretty sure that the claxon of the alarms drowned out the sounds of their gunfire; something she was grateful for.
She had stepped inside the door from the stairwell and to the left, allowing MDK to continue straight forward and Bull’s Eye to sweep in to the right, covering the hall beyond. It worked out, and when the trio had realized that their enemy lay dead on the patterned carpet, MDK continued on up to the far corner of the alcove and presented the barrel of his MPK to the hall beyond. Peacekeeper swept up on the dead, toed each in the head to make sure that they were, in fact, dead, and then bent to perform a quick pat down. Meanwhile, Firewind followed Freeway inside, with Lightning bringing up the rear. The medtech moved up to help Peacekeeper.
Bull’s Eye stared down the length of the hall and then gave a shake of his head. What the hell you doing, Colton? They were deep inside a megacorp facility! Someplace he never figured he’d be—hell, after the raid, he had doubted he’d see the light of day again. He still wasn’t sure why they were raided. The common thought had been that it was just the statics acting out against what they didn’t understand, but Bull’s Eye wasn’t so sure that was all there was to it. Trouble was that while he was Inside, he didn’t have the means to do any digging, and since being on the Outside, he had been caught up in this mess Croaker had delivered him into! And now, here he was following some high-tech killer into the belly of the beast to rescue said tribal elder. Pulled from his thoughts by MDK’s motion that they were moving forward, Bull’s Eye gave him a grim nod and readied his weapon as the assassin continued on down the hall.
Having searched through the pockets of the guards, Peacekeeper stood up and tossed Lightning an MPK submachine gun to take the place of the Arasaka handgun he’d procured in the guardroom on the main floor. Aside from that she’d snatched a keycard, but that was it. She’d never really been the type to rob the dead, and wasn’t sure that it would bring her anything but trouble to snake the man’s wallet anyway. So, rising up and spinning on her heel she moved fluidly after MDK’s black form when he made the motion to continue.
Having found pretty much nothing of value in his pat down of the bloodied corpse, Firewind waited until Peacekeeper, Bull’s Eye, and Freeway had moved on before stepping up alongside Lightning.
“I’ll take the handgun if you would prefer the submachine gun,” he said as he leaned in, glancing back at the door to the stairs just in case as he did so.
(OOC: whether Lighting hands the weapon over or not…)
It was roughly seventy feet from the stairs to the corner. Peaking his head around the inner edge, MDK peered down the length of hospital clean, white hallway with four doors on the right and two on the left, near the end of the hall. It was clear…empty. The numbers on the doors that he could see put them some distance still from their target. So, with no enemies in sight, and the netrunner having told him that the security cameras he could see in the corners and running the length of the hallway were inactive, MDK continued on down the eighty, or so, feet to the next corner, stopping short and peering briefly around it. There he saw four more men, just as two ducked into another hall putting them out of sight, and the other two stepped into the doorways on the outer wall, making them fairly well covered. Pulling back behind the corner, MDK knew that the men had spotted him, having likely been very cautious due to the alarms. He’d also noticed that there weren’t any doors on the inside hall, but that the hallway the men had ducked into was approximately eighty feet down the hall, on the inside, leaving another forty feet of hall before it turned to the left again. The outer wall bore four doors with the last of the four at about ninety feet, and the second to last at roughly eighty feet. These were the two doors that the other two men had ducked into. It was then that a voice carried over the ruckus the alarms made as one of the corporate guards at the end of the hall bellowed out: “You might as well surrender! You’re never going to get out of here alive otherwise.”
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:08am
Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:24am
“I think your asking the wrong person for answers,” Croaker said. “You should be asking yourself just how did your daughter get a hold of a drug meant for combat enhancement, was she a testee like I assume the other two people here are. I find it very hard to believe Ackermen, that a man clearly of your stature did not know anything about experiments on his own kid. If you really did not know this was going on as you say, then you might want to look closer to home, for someone had to have supplied it to her. You may have a bad case of rotting mold in your company that poses a bigger threat to you then I or my people.”
Mr. Ackerman stepped back and shook his head slowly as he peered down at Croaker, and this time the nomad could see sadness in the man’s eyes.
“We’re I to find it necessary to explain myself to the likes of you, Mr. Tallon, this would be an entirely different situation. Right now, I’m afraid that there’s another situation I must deal with. So I bid you good morning. I may, or may not, return to visit with you some more, Mr. Tallon. Rest assured, that someone will should I not.
“Oh,” Mr. Ackerman had turned towards the door where one of his guards stood ready and waiting, but had paused as though struck by a thought. When he turned about to face Croaker once more, the sadness was gone from his eyes. The nomad recognized the look that had replaced it. He’d seen it before when in the Nevada desert a few years before the Raid. He’d encountered a coyote edging in on their rabbit traps, and the look in its yellow eyes was one of triumph just before Croaker had been forced to retreat as a pack of the mangy canines rushed the line.
“I wouldn’t rest too comfortably. Right now my men are dealing with your friends…all of them. You are soon to be an oddity within my facility, Mr. Tallon. A rare specimen: an edgerunner. Do enjoy your last moments.”
That said, Mr. Ackerman strode to the door which his bodyguard opened as he drew near. The corporate exec stepped through the doorway and was immediately flanked by guards as he disappeared from sight.
The door closed leaving Croaker alone with the silent patients and the soft hum of the overhead lights keeping the beep of monitoring equipment company.
Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:26am
Posted on 2008-11-03 at 05:45:21.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Thanks!
Too many typos for my taste. Didn't take the time to reread the work before posting, so I'll have to go back through and edit.
Posted on 2008-11-03 at 04:48:44.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Go!!!
I've uploaded Caterina and made the intro post. Have fun!
For those of you who are waiting in the wings let me know when you are ready.
Posted on 2008-11-02 at 00:15:23.
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Topic: The Embodiment - A FUZIONfantasy Game
Subject: Let's get the ball rolling!!!
Introduction
He could still hear it far behind him, howling its rage, and he shivered as he pulled his cloak tighter about his armored shoulders with a gloved hand. The lantern light danced a hypnotic pattern about the stone wall surrounding the portal where his companion crouched, and the cold mountain air caught with each breath causing it to mist in front of him.
“Well?” His voice echoed in the stone tunnel. It had been smoothed by long-forgotten artisans and it carried the sound of their every move as though they were sticks on the crests of waves.
Emald turned his thin face towards the leader of the expedition and rested his right arm across his knee as he looked up at the rest of them. He bore a bandage about his forehead that was stained a dark red from their previous encounter with a cavebear just hours before. Indric hadn’t bothered to heal him—D’Hurgen would rather see the rogue dead and in his halls, than healed and vibrantly alive—so, the smallish man had just endured.
“This ‘ere is trapped alright,” the sallow-faced man acknowledged. “Khord’s did it, er someone with jus’ as much stone knowledge as I figures it.”
“Can you disarm it?” Lontruno growled. The thief preferred to take his time with just about everything, and it was getting annoying to the Sendrian swordsman.
“I think so, though it’ll take time, an’ then we still don’t know if it’ll be magically trapped,” Emald shrugged and continued to watch with his wide eyes.
“Leave that to me,” Guliril said softly, her long, black hair flowing from beneath the cowl of her crimson red hood like silk to rest on her milky-white chest, reflecting softly in the pale yellow of the lantern Mescard held.
“I ain’t about to touch the thing ‘til you check against magic, Wizard,” Emald grinned wryly revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. “I don’t fancy being toasted anymore than I fancied being torn apart by that damn bear.”
“You should learn to run faster,” Mescard chuckled. The man had led them here to this ancient tomb by following landmarks Lontruno’s studies had noted as well as providing a useful skill in wilderness lore.
“Get to it,” Lontruno ordered Guliril as he turned to squint back the way they’d come, unable to make out Adgenis’ form in the black where he stood watch some distance away. The man had a magical ring that allowed him to see in the dark, so it had made sense to put him at the back. “We don’t know how much time we have before we’re discovered, and I’d prefer not to have to fight our way out of here.”
“As you command,” the wizard lowered her head and stepped past him, her staff raised as she began to utter her incantation. Emald scrambled behind her, scratching at his disheveled mop of hair and eyeing the cold, beautiful woman with some unease. Her incantation spilled forth with lilting verse that caused her eyes to momentarily glow with a golden hue before settling to a thin membrane of bronze light over her pupils. She stared at the large, round wall etched with runes whose meaning was lost to Time for a moment before her lips slowly parted.
“There is magic here,” she breathed. Lontruno held up his hand unnecessarily to stall the thief from moving forward again, watching the only woman who’d joined him on this expedition with some interest as she continued to stare—as though in a trance—at the door blocking them from their goal. After another minute passed, Guliril spoke again, “It is a very powerful magic…ancient and potent.” Her face turned from the door to stare with those bronze-lit eyes at Lontruno. “It is of multiple schools of magic.”
“Then this is definitely the right place,” Lontruno smiled and scratched at his fresh beard as he turned his attention to the portal. After a brief passage of time, he shifted the large, leather belt pouch he wore at his waist to the front and pulled from within it a book bound in ratted leather. Stained and appearing to be ready to fall apart, Lontruno held it with the delicacy of a father cradling his newborn for the first time. He flipped through the brittle pages with careful patience before settling on one in particular near the back.
“…Though there be many to choose from, only the true tomb will bear the Mark of All; all that went into sealing it…ah, here it is. Did you prepare the spells I asked you to prepare, Guliril?”
“I did.”
“Then, I suggest that you begin.”
The wizard once again began her incantation, her staff held high, her left hand bearing a single, ornate ring, working strange symbols upon the air. Her words echoed through the tunnel with a ghostly resonance and then there was a flash of white light, and the runes at the bottom of the portal lit with a silver hue. Guliril took a deep breath and began to cast again. When she’d finished this time, the whole of the wall glowed yellow for a second before the magical energy ran down its surface like water to collect in the next set of runes making them glow silver as well. Eight more times, and for what seemed like an eternity to the others, Guliril cast her magic until all of the runes were glowing their liquid silver casting such a pale, overbearing light that even that of the lantern was diminished. When finished, the wizard settled against her staff and moved towards the wall neither expecting, nor receiving, a thank you for her work let alone a helping hand in her momentary weakened state.
“Your turn, Emald,” Lontruno motioned the little man forward with impatience while Indric, Mescard, and Guliril looked on in hunger.
“You sure it’s—“
“You were brought for one purpose, Emald, and one purpose only. Should you become a burden, I assure you there will be no returning home for you,” Lontruno smiled, though his narrowed eyes didn’t carry any warmth in them.
“Fine,” Emald sniffed and wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs as he approached the portal once more. He peered at the glowing, silver-hued liquid flowing within the runes out of the corner of his eye as he gingerly crouched within a foot of them. Muttering under his breath, he produced a series of iron and metal tools wrapped in simple burlap.
The stones at the foot of the portal were smoothly crafted, making it difficult to wedge his crowbar within their seams, and it took him longer than he’d have liked to achieve purchase. Glancing over his shoulder he raised his eyebrows at Lontruno before returning to the task of lifting the heavy stone. It was long, arduous work and he received no assistance from the priest of D’Hurgen, the ranger, the wizard, or their illustrious leader, all of whom just watched. Mumbling further, Emald began to address the system that had been rigged beneath the stone.
It wasn’t a pressure plate that he had to worry about, but something that would have activated once the portal was opened. He’d guessed that there would either be two stones brought together to crush those in the doorway and reseal the door, or blades. He wouldn’t know until they’d actually stepped through the portal, but he’d found a bit of stone chipped away near the door that had revealed the hollow chamber and what was surely the activating chains within, small as it had been.
It took close to a half hour for the thief to finish his work, during which time Lontruno had once sent Mescard back up the tunnel to check on Adgenis, but otherwise they’d all just stood around watching in silence as he worked.
“There’d better be a large amount of wealth behind this door,” Emald sniffed as he pushed himself to his feet and dusted his hands once again on his pants before turning to Lontruno and stepped back from the door. “Trapped no more, your lordship.”
Lontruno Neusiman stepped closer, the book still in hand.
“Epirro nia thi daii su naiya peyl!”
Lontruno coughed blood onto his sleeve and leaned against the wall, allowing his sword arm to hang limply at his side as he strained to see in the darkness. They’d lost Emald there at the portal. The words that had been scripted to open the door hadn’t just opened it, but they’d cracked the stone in half, toppling one heavy piece on the unfortunate thief. There may have been an opportunity for Emald to have escaped that gruesome death had it not been for Mescard pushing the little man forward in his haste to scramble out of the way.
Lontruno took a ragged breath deep into his burning lungs and pushed away from the wall, rising once more to his unsteady feet. There was very little light in this chamber, so deep beneath the mountain face…so far from that infernal door! He was alone now, having just left Guliril’s bloody, mangled corpse lying on the freezing stone floor where she’d fallen, her throat ripped out, her beautiful eyes burned from her skull. Mescard had been killed a few hours earlier, his intestines pulled up through his mouth by the unseen force that hunted them. Adgenis had died when they’d first encountered the cursed sarcophagus. The stout warrior had stood at Lontruno’s side as the transparent, milky white mist had tumbled from the broken seal to take on the form of a man made of swirling smoke and glowing red eyes. He’d raised his shield as Lontruno darted to the side, but it had been too late. The being had crushed Adgenis’ skull within his helmet causing brains and blood to spill from the rent metal like pudding from a toppled bowl. The warrior hadn’t even screamed, and his skull had seemed to put up no resistance to the crushing force of the creature’s strength.
That had been when Indric had yelled for them to run, and had begun a prayer to D’Hurgen. That had been when Indric had died. Lontruno hadn’t run like the priest had suggested, but had turned, sword in hand, to watch as the smoky being turned to face the bearded priest, and proceed to send pieces of his body flying in all directions as though he’d been drawn and quartered.
That was then…then…similar to the then when Lontruno had conceived of the plan to seek out this tomb and knowingly unleash this beast…this creature…this demigod. Power would surely have been his as thanks for breaking the creature from his ancient prison. Power and wealth, might and glory. He’d have brought Sendria into a rein like no other in all of Antaron’s history with the might he’d planned on wielding.
“Foolish,” Lontruno breathed as he slowly rounded a thick pillar to step further into the limited lantern light still left by his fallen companions. He’d thought himself prepared with the amulet he’d found in that rotting wooden shack deep in the Swamps of Kedesh where he’d first stumbled upon the book.
Before then he’d always thought of liches as undead locking themselves away in towers, or places such as this crypt he’s led them all to die within, and had never thought to come across one in a worm-filled shack nearly half submerged by thick, green, brackish water. He’d survived the encounter, but just barely—the first step towards this… this end. Anger welled up inside of him as he turned about, sword held ready in his tired hand. He’d had this creature sweep towards him in playful attack for some time now, and had experienced many minor cuts from what appeared as insubstantial claws, but were, in fact, appendages able to slice like a sharpened blade through his armor and clothing.
“Do it!” he screamed into the darkness. “Do it already! Kill me!”
He hurt. He was positive that this thing wasn’t going to let him leave the tomb alive, but was confused as to why it toyed with him. This fueled his anger, and caused him to scream violently at the shadows until his voice cracked and gave way. “Do it,” he whispered raggedly, his eyes darting about in search of that which harbored his end.
A chill climbed his back, starting at the base of his spine and rolling slowly, methodically, up to the bottom of his skull. He wanted to turn about, but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place. Only his jaw and eyes were able to move. He felt his lungs seize, his heart stop beating, and all he could do was grind his teeth and dart his eyes about frantically, aware that the being known as Bizarcat of the Bedlam was behind him, touching him, entering his body. A searing fire ate at the marrow of his bones and expanded into the muscles. Tears formed in his eyes as his body went rigid, his sword falling to clank loudly against the stone floor.
”I freed you,” he thought desperately as the corners of his vision began to darken. ”I freed you! And this is how you reward me?”
We need you. The words filled his mind, engulfing his consciousness in a repeated cacophony of voices that sounded as though they came from a massive hall. You have set us free, and you shall be rewarded. The sentence was a whisper amidst the chorus uttering the other phrase over and over again, and then, suddenly, it all stopped and Lontruno was returned to his pain, his suffocation, as his body began to lift from the ground, his back arching, his arms and legs spread wide.
Lontruno Neusiman’s voice was given substance and he screamed in such agony that it bore spirit and scarred the ceiling overhead. His fingertips, his toes, his eyes, his tongue, every extremity began to glow, and then shoot forth light in streams that extended to the walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber.
WE NEED YOU!
You shall be rewarded.
His body exploded into hundreds of motes of light that darted about the cavernous expanse of the tomb in frenzy. Only two remained still: one where Lontruno’s heart had been, and the other his brain. These two drifted slowly towards one another until they touched.
You have been rewarded.
I have been…I am…you.
The D’Oro Estate | The Empire of Drannon | Outside of The City of Drefast | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 6:00pm | Abnormally Warm
The warmth of the fire was almost entirely unnecessary within the coziness of the drawing room, but Ethain had stoked it nonetheless. The room wasn’t the largest in the D’Oro estate, but it was one where Caterina could find relative peace. Where noblewomen of the Empire often spent their evenings embroidering, darning, or knitting, Caterina hadn’t been held to such expectations for some time. The way she occupied her time was unique and so soon after her loyal manservant and squire Ethain had served dinner, she was content to sit and watch the last traces of sunset kiss the rooftops of the distant Drefast through the clear, if somewhat distorted view, the picture window provided her.
Life for Caterina D’Oro had been filled with what some would call adventures since the murders of her brother and father. She’d made many friends, encountered many amazing things, and endured much hardship while serving Rydor, and some within polite society whispered in awe at her deeds. Bards sang her praise, painting her in a glorious, haloed light within their tales and songs, for she was The Right Hand of Rydor, a name she’d earned when the God of Justice had worked through her to bring about a swift end to the life of the man who’d slaughtered her family. Word of her righteous might had spread quickly from the bloodied halls of her neighbor’s estate where she’d stood over the body of a childhood friend who’d been overcome by jealous indignation to such a degree that he’d sought justice through the deaths of those he’d imagined had dishonored him.
She’d left her estates shortly after; unable to endure the looks of reverent awe, or even fear, those she’d hired to care for the place had cast her way. From that time she’d been unable to avoid her calling even if she’d tried. She remained humbly aware that it is Rydor who empowers her, and the people came to recognize her as a pillar of strength, a shield for the weak, and a sword against injustice across Antaron. She’d been unable to avoid the fame, unable to avoid the recognition wherever she went in her resplendent golden armor—the armor that had been her brother’s and that had been recast to her shape after it had been nearly destroyed in combat. The name, The Right Hand of Rydor, was now known all across the land, and Caterina reveled in the peace the Festival celebrations brought her as it had drawn all of her house servants to the city for the parades, shows, and revelries. It left her in peace, tended by the loyal and silent Ethain—the poor boy had been subject to a slash across the throat during one of their adventures and had been rendered mute despite Rydor’s blessed healing.
Caterina’s life hadn’t all been successes in the glory of Rydor. She’d experienced great loss, and recently as well. Her heart still ached though it had been over a year since he’d vanished without word, without a trace. She could still picture the sweep of his black hair across his brow, his kind, brooding eyes, his strong features: Zin Raida had been a recognized champion of the Empire, a landed knight who had taken an interest in Caterina and looked past her devotion to Rydor enough to see who she was inside. He’d courted her for some time in a loving, caring relationship that is a rare thing between people accustomed to war, and then, he’d vanished. His estates were still run by his servants, and his brother worked to keep it profitable, but Sir Zin Raida was nowhere to be found, and Caterina felt his loss explicitly.
Caught up in her emotion, even for the moment, the Right Hand of Rydor might have missed the sound of crashing crockery were it not that there was no other sound in the estate than the cracking and popping of the fire. Under normal circumstances she could have just ignored the sound as the servants cleaned up their mess, but Ethain was one of those meticulous individuals that never broke anything, and the crashing of plates to the floor was so alien that Caterina found herself rising quickly from the comfort of the oversized chair—her father’s chair—and gliding gracefully out the door to the balcony that overlooked the entry hall.
It was here that her experience came into play most judiciously. Most failed to carry a weapon while in their home, but after witnessing the murders of her unarmed brother and father while they prepared for celebration, Caterina always carried her sword. The weapon was touched by magic and bearing the inscription Justicia y Deber along its polished blade it was a recognized tool of Justice by any who knew her. True to form, Caterina carried the sheathed weapon with her as she exited the room, having picked it up from where it rested against the arm of the chair as she swept by.
It was on the landing as she stepped through the door, crouched over Ethain’s body. It was covered in a thin, fiery red fur. Its head was oversized and bore resemblance to that of a bull, though Its mouth was broader and filled with fanged teeth dripping saliva instead of the rounded, smooth teeth of an herbivore. Its upper body was massively muscled, with bits of blackened chainmail actually fused to its flesh, seeping yellow puss between the links. Caterina would have mistaken it for a minotaur were it not for the large black feathered wings protruding from its back like those of an oversized crow. There was a seething red glow to its eyes, and a strange symbol branded upon its forehead the likes of which Caterina had never seen.
As she stepped into the space between the railing and the door, the creature lifted its head, its fanged mouth opening; its lips curling as it slowly withdrew a black sword from Ethain’s lifeless body, causing it to shift and jerk, caught up in a violent spasm of nerves. In a moment, Caterina knew that the squire had been attacked from behind while he climbed the stairs, his spine severed, a desert of sweetbread, dried fruit, and red wine intended for her being carried on a tray. Now, the desert lay scattered at her feet, the tray against the railing, the wine staining the carpet along with Ethain’s dark blood.
“You are to die now, Knight,” the creature heaved each word from its mouth as though it were a pain-filled effort while it drew a long, thin black dagger from behind its waist. “This was intended for you: Compliments of the Eloquent Mask of Obarin.”
The Simple Sod Tavern | Pardinal | The City of Portua | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 6:00pm | Storming
Dinner had been served. It consisted of a nice kidney pie, two pheasant drumsticks, a couple of slices of cracked wheat bread with churned butter, a bowl of beef and lentil soup, and a mug of warmed honeyed ale. Sna’kti had the table to himself as he usually did. Despite his reputation (or maybe because of his reputation) he was still left alone by the majority of the human populace. He always drew attention to himself—that was about impossible not to do for a six foot tall felinian man of muscle, fangs, and whiskers. Especially since he wore nothing more than a dak’tar, steel bracers, and a sword belt to carry his sho’tal when most were bundled up against the raging storm outside.
The meal wasn’t necessarily cheap, but Sna’kti was no longer worried so much about expenses as his stomach. He could always find more coin, but the warmth of the tavern and the food hitting his belly wasn’t something he was about to do without. He’d been out in the storm recently and the black and gray fur that covered the whole of his body was wet. He emitted a particular odor—not that it bothered him, but those who’d been sitting at an adjacent table had found reason to depart within minutes of his arrival, so he had to admit that he smelled of wet fur. It was better this way. He would be allowed to eat in relative peace.
Just as he was digging into his first bite of kidney pie the door opened blasting the floor with cold, gray rain, and admitting four men in procession, each wearing the purple cloaks of city guard and the conical helmet with dull gray aventail sweeping their shoulders. As soon as the last of them was inside, the door was pushed closed once more and the men surveyed the room. It didn’t take long before all of their eyes fell on the broad-shouldered, well-muscled form of the kazari. There was no hesitation in their approach which told Sna’kti they’d been looking for him.
“You are Sna’kti Sarassi’ka?” the lead figure asked. He was a man of average height and build with brown to nearly black hair as evident by his broom-bristle mustaches and deep five o’clock shadow. The bags underneath his eyes and the crow’s feet at their edges placed him at middle-aged. The sash across his chest gave him the rank of captain.
“Is there another Kazari about?”
The captain narrowed his eyes at the dour question, but pushed into his purpose nonetheless. “You have been summoned by His Majesty and will attend immediately pertaining to matters of the utmost urgency. Your reputation precedes you…sir.”
Posted on 2008-11-01 at 23:52:23.
Edited on 2008-11-03 at 06:15:16 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Official posting date.
I will be posting tomorrow, so please get your posts in.
Posted on 2008-11-01 at 21:00:49.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Investigation
May 9th, 2025 – 1110
Communications Center, Antarctic Research Facility 36, Antarctica
The halls were eerily silent. Monty kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t being snuck up on by some creepy, otherworldly being. It took some doing to make sure that his outward appearance didn’t reflect his inner anxiety. It was always a bad thing when the leader looked ready to fall apart. That usually led to chaos. So, Lt. Kernan remained the epitome of cool as he covered their six.
When they passed the machine, Monty refrained from stopping the team to investigate it himself. He momentarily considered allowing Blake the opportunity to perform her own analysis, but didn’t relish the idea of being stuck without a good defensible position, so he kept them moving. It wasn’t until they arrived at the alien “pod” that he called a halt to their progress. He allowed Kane to post watches, and made his way up to the wreckage of the pod, standing three feet from it, and scanning the whole of it, and the alien, with a critical eye. The tentacles, the state of the corpse…Monty assumed it had been killed in a firefight, and that meant it was hostile. He wondered briefly if there might be anything in the pod that could leap out at them like in the movie Alien, and nearly stepped back from it before catching himself. They had to know what was going on here, and getting edgy wouldn’t do anyone any good. Alien was a movie, and this was real life—as strange as it was getting.
Crouching, Monty took the pod in from another angle, trying to determine whether it might be booby-trapped, or otherwise recognizing any obvious threat. Once he was fairly confident that there wasn’t anything moving inside the pod, or that there wasn’t some explosive device underneath the alien form, he rose again and stepped up to do a more thorough investigation of the pod and alien, trying the whole while to appear nonchalant in his approach despite wanting to make sure he didn’t touch the alien creature.
He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but he hoped he would find something that might aid them. When he’d been younger, he’d played video games that put alien weaponry in the hands of the hero once the alien was killed. Maybe he’d find a laser pistol…
Posted on 2008-11-01 at 20:59:37.
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The Trilogy War
Trilogy War Q/A
Adventures in Aihrde
