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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Ah, the love!

I do miss this game.

Posted on 2012-07-04 at 14:46:57.

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

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A
Subject: Glad I'm...

...keeping you interested.

Yep, only Dani and Lila remain... Hoping to have them both posted at some point tomorrow.

Posted on 2012-07-04 at 04:08:14.

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A
Subject: Say cheese!

Or, maybe, "nuts!!!" *wink*

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…


…family reunion…

…someone stole the nuts…

…squirrel jail…

…ooohhhhhh… zzzzzzz

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.

Posted on 2012-07-03 at 18:36:17.

Topic: Vote for the Inn
Subject: OOOOOOoooo!!!

That's even better than 8!


Posted on 2012-07-03 at 15:34:12.

Topic: Vote for the Inn
Subject: Nope... 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.

Posted on 2012-07-02 at 11:21:36.

Topic: Looking for a game to join
Subject: Well said, Mort!

Well said, indeed! +1

Posted on 2012-07-01 at 13:25:38.

Topic: Teller of Aryn
Subject: Embarassed?



Flabbergasted? "Tongue-tied", even? *winknudgeehwotnudgewink*

MMMMMmmmmmayhaps a wee-teeny itsy-bit... but it was AWSOME!

Best reception of the facelick I've seen in ages!


Posted on 2012-06-30 at 18:33:35.

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A
Subject: Bzzzzt!

Preston acquired.

Posted on 2012-06-30 at 18:14:08.

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…

Oh… no…

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).

Posted on 2012-06-30 at 13:07:05.

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A
Subject: *winks*

I have no worries about your RP essence, Jen.

Mort - glad you enjoyed Malakai's capture.

Preston's post should be up shortly.

Rione will follow...

Posted on 2012-06-29 at 13:56:44.

Topic: Website Crash!!!
Subject: Well...

...we've got a pyroboom... but he's not really what you'd call a "problem"...

And, as a serious answer, pyro... No... the Inn doesn't typically have "major" crashes all that often. Of course, we do have the standard, run-of-the-mill issues (server chokes and needs a reboot, etc) but this kind of crash is usually a rare occurrance.

Posted on 2012-06-29 at 13:54:06.

Topic: Teller of Aryn
Subject: Ummm...

Posted on 2012-06-29 at 00:25:39.

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A
Subject: Me either!!!

We're almost there!

Posted on 2012-06-28 at 17:59:07.

Topic: Brewing my own beer...
Subject: Sweet!!!

those labels, boss!

Posted on 2012-06-28 at 17:58:00.

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis - Q&A
Subject: Yup...

...I believe I made a note of your away dates offline, Hammer.

Also, Malakai has been nabbed.

Posted on 2012-06-28 at 17:54:48.

Topic: Prometheans: Genesis
Subject: Malakai - Run Down

March 10, 2014 – 11:30:35 GMT
Abingdon Street; London, England, UK

Even before Pluto had started spinning again nearly two years ago, Malakai Sorrena was not a man to have ever been described as “late” or “tardy.” Punctuality had always been in his vocabulary, in fact, and had played no small role in his success in both life and business. Punctuality, accuracy, rapid-prototyping, a solid, final product, and the quickness of mind to always stay a step or two ahead of the ever-changing games of business and marketing were key, he knew, and, since he’d been released from the foster-care system (even before that, actually) Malakai had patterned his life on those principals, defying the limited expectations that any of his case workers or even foster families had had for his future. Like himself, Malakai’s company was physically on the smallish side, comprised of only a handful of employees and an even smaller number of associates and consultants, but, also like him, the physical aspect of the company was, by no means, an accurate representation of capability… especially since December 21, 2012…
He had been able to out-think almost anyone even before that day… but after… after that day Malakai began to discover that he could out think just about anything, as well. Whatever it was that happened to him on that day had not only given him physical speed beyond belief but, also, a mental swiftness to match and, so, was capable of coming up with answers to questions at least as quickly as the fastest computers in the world – he wasn’t super-intelligent, mind you, so he didn’t just instantly know those answers, but he could Google quick as Bob’s-your-uncle… not a bad ‘gift’ to have in the business world, he figured, and a good percentage of his profits would go to charity, anyway… – since that day, Malakai Sorenna could outthink and/or outrun everything on the planet…

Have to remember to keep it sub-sonic, he thought as he sped past Victoria Tower Gardens at nearly 600 miles an hour, Bad enough I have to do this in public… hate to blow out any windows.

…He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to outrun these blokes, though. They weren’t faster than he was, of course, but there seemed to be hundreds of them and they seemed to be, quite literally, everywhere! And sheer numbers wasn’t the only resource they had in their favor, either….

Did that guy actually try to magnetize me?


I hope he’s the best they’ve got, though… dragging me down a bit and causing me a misstep is one thing… but if I run into one that can actually catch and hold on…

…Malakai shook the thought away as quickly as it had formed. There would be plenty of time to think about all of this later, right now, he needed to focus on keeping his feet moving and getting himself free of the intricate web that these suits had woven in hopes of… well… he wasn’t really sure what their hopes were any more than he was sure of exactly who they were.

He raced through the roundabout where Abingdon Street intersected Horseferry Road -- the speed of his passing causing the tree on the traffic island to lean in his wake – and continued west for a couple of blocks before, once more, turning south on Dean Ryle Street in hopes of avoiding the group of suits he’d spied waiting for him at the Tufton Street intersection…

Cor! But they are everywhere, aren’t they, Malakai frowned, making a hard right onto Page Street, Might stand a better chance of losing them in The Tube, mightn’t I?

His legs churned harder and, as he broke Mach 1, blowing a bank of windows out of the DEFRA building with the resultant sonic boom, his skin shimmered like chrome in reaction to the increase in velocity. His frown deepened into a scowl as the broken glass tinkled to the ground behind him... he had hoped to avoid that kind of thing but, whoever these chaps were and whatever it as that they wanted, they were making it rather unavoidable… his feet left the ground all together and, as his momentum carried him forward, he tucked himself into tight ball and somersaulted toward the lamppost on the northwest corner of Page and Marsham… there was an audible PING!!! and the post bent as his body ricocheted off of it at a sharp angle… Malakai stretched out, calculated the angle of his trajectory, twisted, and then tucked again as the ricochet shot him toward another lamppost at the southeast corner of the intersection. A second PING!!!, another bent lamppost, and Malakai Sorrena ricocheted into the Westminster Tube Station.

11:31:38 GMT – Westminster Tube Station; 75 Page Street, London, England

Malakai’s hopes that the Tube would be less infested by these mysterious types who had been pursuing him were quickly and painfully dashed when he hit the platform at Westminster. He had hoped to find only the typical smattering of commuters, here, once he’d left the surface streets behind… had hoped that these shady blokes wouldn’t have thought to cover the Underground network, at all… Unfortunately, there were no commuters, at all. The station seemed to have been cleared of everyone, in fact… save for the lone figure who, after snaring him in a magnetic field that was much stronger than the first one he’d encountered, held Malakai aloft just over the tracks and grinned a self-satisfied grin before launching him into the path of an approaching train…



PING-PING-PING… ping… thud!

Malakai had, thankfully, been able to maintain consciousness long enough for his bio-metallic skin to have absorbed the brunt of the train’s impact. The last couple of bounces from the Tube walls, however, had hurt enough for him to know that he wouldn’t be conscious much longer… his thought processes slowed… he tried to get back to his feet and start running again… or at least to stand and fight if he couldn’t run… but the effort was too much…

“Watchtower,” he heard a voice echo along the tunnel just before darkness claimed him, “Subject has been neutralized. Awaiting retrieval between Westminster and Waterloo…”

Posted on 2012-06-28 at 17:51:02.
Edited on 2012-07-27 at 13:39:16 by Eol Fefalas

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