Won't be back as Sam, if I do, I'm sure... Roc's gonna have her a shiny new pilot and such, y'see, an' well, Sam's just gonna have to skin out an' go his own way.
I do have a Firefly character in mothballs that I never really did get to play with... mayhaps with a few tweaks and some negotiations with Roger, Rocinante can pick up a passenger along the way... We shall see.
Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A Subject: LOL That was the inspiration for the last couple of lines of Rione's acquisition post. *winks*
Personally, I think insurance of any sort amounts to little more than another way to legally scam people out of their money but, that aside, I just looooove the Progressive commercials with Flo... I get a chuckle out of them every single time!
Just gotta vote like they do in Presidential elections, right? Vote early, vote often, bribe others to vote, etc...
Posted on 2012-07-05 at 14:29:21.
Topic: Vote for the Inn Subject: To vote...
...just go to the home page, scroll down nearly to the bottom and, on the left side of the screen you should see a "Dice Roller's Top 50" widget. Select a ranking from the dropdown list (may I recommend "5- Don't Miss") and then clicky the button to submit your vote.
On a related note... and speaking of votes... we've slipped to number 5.
Posted on 2012-07-05 at 13:31:57.
Edited on 2012-07-05 at 13:33:26 by Eol Fefalas
Topic: Happy 4th of July Subject: Oh yeah...
Fireworks + (most) dogs= insane panic...
Fireworks are fun for us human types but, unless you happen to be a 90 lb Chow/Shar-pei mix named Ollie, you're not going to enjoy them if you're a canine.
Posted on 2012-07-04 at 14:16:22.
Topic: Happy 4th of July Subject: Happy 4th of July
Just a quick note to wish all of our American Innmates a safe and happy Independance Day! Hopefully, most of you are, at least, getting the day off of work and will be enjoying BBQs and fireworks later on.
I mean, c'mon, what says "freedom" better than charred mammal flesh and explosives, right?
P.S. You know what? Happy 4th to all of you non-American Innmates, as well... Why confine the fun to the USA, right? Watermelon, sparklers, bottle rockets, and hamburgers for everyone!!!
Posted on 2012-07-04 at 13:55:09.
Edited on 2012-07-04 at 13:58:04 by Eol Fefalas
There you go, readers... One Rione, bagged and tagged.
Posted on 2012-07-04 at 03:02:10.
Topic: Prometheans: Genesis Subject: Rione - Build a better mousetrap... Catch a better mouse? March 8, 2014 – 17:32:01 GMT
Seventh and Hope Streets, Los Angeles, California, USA
Rione Olfien tucked a long strand of black hair behind her ear as she glanced back at the Sheraton, chewed on her lip as she, once more, considered the wealth of information her contact had given her, and smiled. If everything that Robert Levenson had told her was true… even if only half of it were true… this would be the story that could make her career, launch her almost instantly to the level of notoriety that her mother had worked almost twice as long to realize, maybe even open the door to a Pulitzer before she reached twenty-five!
Wouldn’t that be something? Mom would be proud, for sure.
Of course, since the passing of Mayan Doomsday nearly a year and a half ago, Rione had already managed to get something of a decent career kindled. She was still studying Journalism at UCLA, of course, and remained on staff at The Daily Bruin there, as well, but, since shortly after December of 2012, Rione had found herself with an additional set of “resources” that had allowed her to get the stories that few other reporters seemed able to manage and, as a result, quickly found herself being courted by the L.A. Times, the L.A. Daily News, and other major players in the media game…
How did Rione manage to get those interviews with people that vehemently refused all others?
How had she managed to get access to, let alone pictures of, the lab of that bio-tech company that had, at its very inception, implemented a strict “no media access” policy?
We have to have this girl on staff! Get her in here, pronto!
…This could take me national, though, Rione beamed, her soft green eyes sparkling like the sunlight off of the mirrored windows that filled the buildings around her, International, even!
There had been rumors of a group that had its fingers on the pulse (or in the pot, as it were) of the goings on, here on Earth, since the so-called Nibiru Cataclysm of 03. It was debatable as to whether or not this group was connected to the United States government (or any other government, for that matter), the United Nations, or, some shadowy private sector company. The name of this organization, too, was up in the air and varied as much as the theories as to whom They were. Some designations were just that simple – “They,” “Them” – while others were a bit less paranoid sounding and a rang a touch more convincingly in the ear – “The Bureau for Metahuman Affairs,” “The International Coalition of Human Evolution” – but, in the course of her investigations, Rione kept coming back to one name that seemingly tied all the others together… The Prometheus Group.
It was this name that had made the most sense to her, really… Prometheus; the Titan who stole fire and knowledge from the gods, bestowed those gifts on humankind, and endured eons of suffering for having done so… Whether it belonged to a government entity or a privatized civilian organization was kind of beside the point, now. Her digging into the group’s existence had led her to Levenson and Levenson, nervously, had pointed her in the direction of Pacific Palisades where, he said, the Prometheus Group had a small installation hidden behind the façade of a relatively new security company, there, called International Security Concerns (ISC). All Rione had to do, now, was locate and, somehow, infiltrate ISC, get herself in deep enough to turn up any tangible evidence of even the existence of Prometheus, let alone what Prometheus does or knows…
Story of the year, she was finding it difficult not to jump up and down and squeal with glee, of the CENTURY!!! Hellooo, Big Time!
…Oh, she’d get this story, for sure. She had to. This would make her career and maybe, if things worked out for the best from it… There’s always hope… … maybe she wouldn’t have to “hide,” herself, any longer…
…On the other hand, it may turn out that she’d find cause to hide all the more.
March 10, 2014 – 10:40:38 GMT
ISC Office, 1300 block of 9th Street, Santa Monica, California, USA
She had only been watching the place for two days but, from everything Rione had seen in those two days, she figured that a weekend night would likely be the best time to slip in to the ICS building and see what she might find beyond the impassible reception room that had greeted her on her numerous forays (in numerous skins) through the office’s front doors. Surely, late on a Saturday night in Santa Monica, even a place like this supposed “Security Company” would be asleep… all but abandoned by people, it seemed, in favor of more modern surveillance measures… measures that were all too easily bypassed where Rione was concerned, really… humans tended to freak out at the first sign of a mouse to let it pass unmolested; video cameras, pressure-plates and the like, not so much…
Her surveillance of the place through the afternoon and into the dark hours of the night confirmed her theory, of course. ISC had minimal traffic during the business hours of the work week, it seemed, and, after noon had passed on this Saturday, it had trickled away to virtually non-existent. The few employees that had reported in for work this morning had gone (home or otherwise) hours ago, and the lone security guard that patrolled the place in the off hours had just finished the fourth circuit of his hourly foot rounds…
Probably settling in behind a TV set with his lunch, about now, Rione thought as she crept from behind her car, made sure that the snug, shadow-colored cat-suit she’d selected for tonight’s “research” was covering her well enough, then crept quietly toward the building, probably won’t even notice me unless I try and sneak a nibble from his sandwich.
…She crouched in the shadows at the corner of the building for a long moment, making sure to keep her movements slow and precise while trying to convince her breathing to follow suit, and then risked a peek around the corner and through the assuredly bullet-resistant glass of the office’s lone, shopfront window. The fleeting glimpse of the top of the guard’s cap and the tell-tale flicker of bluish light that haloed it was enough to confirm yet another of her intuitions. That’s two, Rione grinned, edging slowly through the shadows along the side of the building, One more. When she reached the spot where a cardboard recycling dumpster was pushed against the wall, she drew in a slow breath, held it, and crouched lower, her fingers seeking the ragged hole in the concrete of the wall, that, she was hoping, would get her inside ISC. Her eyes skittered almost nervously around the area as she let that breath go and, having found the entry point she was looking for, let the mouse she had called up in her mind overtake her… She wasn’t sure if the squeak she let out as the now familiar but still unsettling rippling sensation coursed through her belonged to her voice or the mouse’s; it might have been a mix of both as quick as the transformation occurred… before her apprehensive scan of the area was complete, there was a small, gray-brown mouse where before had crouched an undergraduate journalism major. The mouse scurried around the mouth of the hole in the wall for a second, pink nose twitching as it investigated, and then disappeared into the darkness beyond.
If a mouse was capable of a self-satisfied smile, then there was surely one on the tiny face of the mouse that was Rione when she emerged into a small janitorial closet, then slipped under the closed door and found herself in the central corridor behind the reception/security desk at ICS. She certainly couldn’t help but let out an almost neglible squeak of celebration, though, as, staying close to the wall, she scurried down the hallway, away from the front of the building, and squeezed herself under another locked door; this one labeled “Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.” The tip of her tail had scarcely cleared the threshold of that door when the lights in the room flared to life and a booming disembodied voice said; “Right on time, Miss Olfien. We had expected something a little more imaginative, but that form should prove easy enough to transport…”
The fumes followed the voice and, even as she scurried frantically back towards the door that had, now, somehow sealed itself shut, she debated whether or not to let go of the mouse… I don’t know what… Human lungs… bigger than mouse…
…someone stole the nuts…
Posted on 2012-07-04 at 03:00:37.
Edited on 2012-07-27 at 13:40:31 by Eol Fefalas
Topic: Loaded Dice update Subject: Sheer force of will, boss!
"Sure, the e-mail didn't make it but, gershdingit, I insist that won't stop the files that I attached!"
Looking very forward to the return of Loaded Dice, of course... regardless of exactly when that might happen.
Also, welcome back Lyra!
Posted on 2012-07-03 at 18:39:05.
Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A Subject: Shouldn't be much longer...
... Rione's post is all but finished and, as I was sitting there, mulling a sentence or two for her post, I went ahead and put a few lines each into Lila and Dani's, too.
Soooo, Rione's acquisition by sometime this evening and the rest by tomorrow, perhaps? It is a holiday, tomorrow, after all.
Topic: Vote for the Inn Subject: Nope...
...my fault. I was looking at a cached page, I suppose. And it is the "first of the month" so I'm guessing Effie's reset the listings... We'll be back up there in no time... Get out there and vote Innmates!
Posted on 2012-07-02 at 13:45:18.
Topic: Vote for the Inn Subject: Just cuz it's been a while...
...we're hanging in there at #8.
Posted on 2012-07-02 at 12:35:56.
Topic: Happy Birthday Canada! Subject: Happy belated...
...Canada Day to all of my friends and Innmates in the Great White North.
Meant to post this yesterday but Canada took all of our power to run their celebrations... (I kid... it was storms that took the power)... and it was my youngest one's birthday, as well.
Topic: Prometheans: Genesis Subject: Preston - Lightning is God's Weapon: Job 36:32-33 March 10, 2014 07:35:00 GMT
Half a mile west and half a mile above Puerto Casado, Paraguay, South America
“…He covers his hands with the lightning, and commands it to strike the mark. Its crashing tells about him; he is jealous with anger against iniquity…”
“You’re repeating that Bible verse in your head again,” Dweeb’s voice crackled in his ear-piece, “aren’t you, D?”
“…His thunderings speak awesomely concerning Him; the cattle are told of His coming storm…”
“No..” Preston grimaced within the confines of his helmet, “Yeah…”
“Didn’t you tell me something, once, about turning things over to God instead of trying to figure them out for yourself,” Dweeb’s voice scratched through the perpetually underlying static.
Preston Smith’s grimace wound itself into something of a smile at that; “I probably did. Have I ever told you, though, that I hate this helmet?” He didn’t really hate the thing, of course. It was a rather clunky affair – it looked a bit like a heavy welders mask mashed together with bits and pieces that looked as if they could have come from one of those Stormtrooper helmets in Star Wars… or, maybe, a ’72 Ford Maverick… – and it got a bit hot inside, especially, here, in South America but, he had to admit that the thing did manage to shield out enough of the electromagnetic disturbance that his body generated to keep the electronics within from frying out.
“Oh,” Dweeb chuckled in reply as Preston reached the apex of his leap and started descending back toward the earth, “I’m sure you did. I probably wasn’t listening, though. That helmet’s the start of us figuring out the rest of it, Preston, my friend… just as much as that verse of yours…”
“Hubris, Dweeb?” Preston half-jokingly prodded as he plummeted earthward and started bracing himself for the impact.
“Nah, just science and engineering,” the other man’s voice crackled, “I’m all for God taking care of your little problem, D; just figured I’d try to help out while He was working on it.” There was a low whistle over the earpiece, then; “I think you covered about four miles with that jump! Goooood hang time! You’re gonna come in awful close to the town, though.”
Preston’s scowl returned as the ground rushed up to meet him. Dweeb was right; the small town of Puerto Casado was quickly filling his vision and the reek of the town’s tannery was filtering in through his mask’s breather. He thanked God that it was still the middle of the night, here, and, as such, most of the inhabitants would likely be asleep… at the same time, he offered up a little prayer asking that the small tremor to be caused by his landing wouldn’t shake any of those people from their beds. “Yeah,” he answered Dweeb, then, “a little close… Still in the wee hours, here, though, and I don’t plan on sticking around long enough for the welcome wagon to show up…”
Despite those reassurances, however, Preston found himself tensing a bit more than he should have and gritting his teeth a bit in hopes that he might be able to somehow soften his landing and spare the locals any sort of disturbance caused by his passing…
Hubris, Preston? he chuckled inwardly as the lyrics from Street Fighting Man spun up in his mind… “Hey, said my name is called Disturbance… I’ll shout and scream, I’ll kill the king, I’ll rail at all his servants…”
He hit the ground in a small field just north of Puerto Casado, winced a bit behind his helmet as he chased the tremor up to the edge of the small impact crater he’d created, and, as he gained the top, the muscles in his legs coiled and launched him skyward, again. He glanced back when he reached about 500 feet… there were a few lights flickering to life and, he thought, he saw a few people staggering sleepily out of their homes… No one looked up, though…
“Anything,” Dweeb asked.
“Nothing major,” Preston answered, “we’re good.
Should hit the border in an hour or less.”
“Affirmative. We’ll have an extraction point for you at Bela Vista. How’s the charge?”
“Building,” Preston replied after considering the itchy-tingly-buzz that crawled just beneath the surface of his skin, “but still negligible. If I can hit Bela Vista in the next three hours and your guys can get me shielded, we shouldn’t have to worry about pulsing the chopper out of the sky.”
“Copy that. We’ll be ready…”
08:28:06 GMT – Less than a kilometer south of the Paraguay-Brazil border
When he hit the ground this time, Preston didn’t immediately leap skyward, once more. Instead, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and remained there, crouched down in the tiny pockmark his landing had made, trying to contain the surge of electrical energy that arced maddeningly beneath and, now, visibly across the surface of his skin…
“…ston?! You oka…? …st you in a clo…rts or som… ! Pres…” Dweeb’s transmission was squawky and garbled, of course, but he got the gist of it and hoped the helmet was shielding his own vox-mic enough to send something acceptable back.
“Roger,” he responded through clenched teeth, “I’m still here, Dweeb. Just came down through a thunderstorm or something… Might have made a liar out of me in regards to what I said about my charge, earlier, though… I’m feeling kind of jazzed, right now. Think I’m gonna sit here and wait for it to disperse before I get any closer to your team…”
“Preston? D.. ou copy?... ome i…”
Yeah, Preston grimaced, straining to stand against the upwelling electricity, I’m on my way… Just… gimme a… minute…
“…and he does not restrain the lightnings when his voice is heard …”
“Well, come on, then,” Preston pleaded, lifting his eyes, if not his body, skyward, “Let it loose! Or show me how to restrain it… or… NNNnnnngggg!!!”
The surge doubled him over and he felt as if he had to lift the welders mask visor of his helmet in order to breathe… “No more than you can bear,” Preston growled, forcing himself upright, once more, “The Lord gives you no more than you can bear…” He let his head fall back in order to look at the sky without the visor in the way. That intended path of sight, though, was diverted by the sight of the armed and armored troops who now ringed the edge of his tiny divot, their weapons train unerringly on him. One of those troops – or, perhaps, it was someone else that Preston couldn’t see – shouted out a command in Spanish… He thought it was Spanish… Can’t quite make it out over this buzzing…
“No habla,” he couldn’t help but lie, fighting the lightning and the urge to leap out of here all at once, “Lo siento, no habla… You all really should get away from here… Muy rapido!”
“Keep your hands in the air, Mr. Smith,” a voice cautioned him in English, then, “and get to your knees. We’re going to manage your electrical problem for you and, then, you’re coming with us. Your compliance will make the entire process much simpler.”
“I really don’t think you understand,” Preston returned, trying to get his legs to kick him toward the heavens, “I’m not exactly safe for…”
“We understand perfectly, Mr. Smith. Hit him!”
The troopers rimming the crater all fired, then, and Preston was surprised to find himself hit, in numerous places, not with bullets but, rather, some sticky globule with a wire that led back to…
That pulse, as the taser rifles all triggered simultaneously, was perhaps the single most painful one Preston could remember in the last year and a half… the flash of the electricity as it exploded out of him, it’s overloaded vessel was intense… and the smell was like nothing he’d ever…
Wait… yes I have… blearily he reached up to close his mask... and failed; …sleep… gas… Damn…
Posted on 2012-06-30 at 18:13:28.
Edited on 2012-07-27 at 13:39:47 by Eol Fefalas
Topic: Looking for a game to join Subject: Star Wars d20
plays a lot like 3.5e D&D... Just different races, feats, setting, etc...
Fun to play if you're a Star Wars geek at all... even a little...
Posted on 2012-06-30 at 14:37:57.
Topic: Floyd back? Subject: w00t
I'm an old school pencil and paper guy, myself... I keep trying digital illustration/painting but still haven't quite gotten the hang of it (well, at least like some others hereabouts *winks* )...
Looking forward to the return of Floyd (and possibly others, as well).