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  1. Sorry I haven't gotten to this sooner, guys! As I said in the proposal thread, I'll be giving out monthly experience awards and thread awards. Monthly awards are based on participation, to encourage regular posting, while thread awards are more about quality of roleplaying and adding to the game as a whole in the thread. July: Adam 2 Helena 1 Kylie 1 Krystal 2 Lily 2 Mathis 1 Tejah 1 August: Adam 0 Helena 1 Kylie 2 Krystal 2 Lily 2 Mathis 1 Tejah 2 September: Adam 0 Helena 1 Kylie 2 Krystal 2 Lily 1 Mathis 0 Tejah 1
  2. Hey there. I'm new to these forums, so I wanted to say my greetings. I've been running an Aberrant game on saturdays for.. about 3 years now? wow, time flies. Anyway, a player just this evening asked me about the rules for making super tech gadgets and.. I realized I cant find them anywhere. ,, I vaguely remember (have never really used those rules) that you need to copy a pre existing power, and that there is time involved to develop your gadget, but beyond that, nothing. ,, The problem is, I cant find the rules for technology anywhere. Could someone point me towards which book I should be checking, again? I've checked the core and the players guide, but no luck. Probably skipped them somehow since the index is ...less than useful
  3. April 4, 2013 / Day 1 Kyrstal The portfolio strap dug into Krystal's shoulder, heavy with the weight of vellum paper and hours upon hours spent at the drawing desk or easel. The marbled hallway echoed back a dozen conversations from other students as she made her way to studio 15; she had projects due by the end of open studio today and that meant less than a half-hour to get them turned in. Not that Tricia, her Advanced Art Seminar advisor, usually kept to strict timelines, but still, better to get them turned early than late. Slipping into the studio, the sounds fell away to the whisper of pencils and charcoal on canvas. A few fellow artists looked up when she came in, their expressions ranging from friendly smiles to jealous glances when they recognized the young rising star artist. Tricia straightened up when she came in, giving the student she’d been speaking with a pat on the shoulder before winding her way through the room to Krystal. The older woman tucked a stray strand of greying hair behind her ear and gave her a quick hug. “Krystal! You’ve been scarce the past week. Is everything okay?” “Fine, Tricia,” Krystal hugged her back and returned the smile. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy with deadlines. But! I wanted to make sure I got these to you on time.” She slung off the portfolio and held it out to her advisor. Tricia’s eyes widened in pleasure, taking the portfolio and quickly snapping open the latch. She held it open, fingers still nimble despite the many years of art and teaching behind her rifling through the nearly two dozen drawings carefully settled inside. Krystal glanced down, a small smile of pride sneaking onto her lips as she remembered working on each one until they were ready. The portfolio slipped, falling to the floor and blooming open, the drawings in the center waffling for a moment before falling one direction or the other. Krystal gasped and looked up to make sure Tricia was okay, but she wasn’t there. A strange staccato echoed after the fall of the portfolio, drawing her attention to the rest of the room. Pencils and charcoal were clattering against easel legs, saw horses, and tile floor. There was no one else in the room. ,, Helena “I just think you should consider it,” her mother pressed, sipping at her coffee and sitting primly on the white pin-stripe chair across from her daughter. Helena sighed and shifted on the couch in annoyance. The coffee was great, as usual, but the conversation was getting tiresome and repetitive. Her father had already abandoned the conversation on the pretext of making a run to the store for dinner provisions. “Mother,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, “counseling isn’t going to help. Ben wants something else, someone else, as a wife. We’ve grown apart.” She settled back against the plush cushion and tried to enjoy the delicate aroma of the coffee and arched a brow at her mother over the rim of her cup. “As his affair rather indicated. He’s just hasn’t accepted it yet.” “Lena, darling, men make dumb decisions when faced with a young, pretty face,” her mother waved away Helena’s retort. “He made a mistake and you punished him for it. Now he’s trying to make up for it, if you’d just let him. He came back to you.” She clucked her tongue, “Really, dear, you should learn how to be more forgiving. However will you handle when your children disappoint you if you cannot learn how to let go?” The same arched brow, three dozen years more practiced, mirrored Helena from across the sitting room. ,, The two women set their cups down on their saucers at the same time, far too similar in some ways to actually see eye to eye. Helena looked up from the coffee table to find herself alone in the room. ,, Adam The day had been a slow blur. He’d found bits and pieces – a name here, clothes there, and of course, there was Tulpa. The large dog walked obediently beside him, a comforting companion as he tried to fit the pieces together into something coherent. ,, He’d spent the first couple of hours in the apartment, hoping it really was his apartment. The dog had startled him, but he seemed friendly and he followed Adam around like…well, like man’s best friend. The name had been on the collar, along with the address of the apartment. After the sixth or tenth round of walking the rooms, Tulpa made his decision on what to do next by pawing at the door and whining to go out. He’d grabbed the leash and doggie bags on pure instinct, but it buoyed his spirits that the apartment was his. It took another twenty minutes to find the keys, but still. ,, Outside, it was bright and warm and slightly breezy. Tulpa trotted close beside him and wagged his tail, walking his human instead of the other way around. Once he’d concluded his business and the doggie bag had been deposited in a trashcan, they continued to meander through the apartment complex and then out into the general neighborhood. Yards and sidewalks were mostly empty, only the occasional car passing on the street. ,, He’d been hoping for someone to talk to, someone that recognized him or felt familiar. As nice as the sunshine was, the quiet afternoon was becoming more frustrating than pleasant. Tulpa barked suddenly as the minivan coming down the street failed to turn with the bend in the road. It bumped over the gutter, ran over a suburban lawn, and smashed into the front wall of the small blue house he’d passed just half a minute before. Kylie The office smelled of magazines and waiting people; it was a familiar smell, the smell of waiting rooms across the world. She’d already checked in and gotten her shot and was sitting in the semi-comfortable chairs, passing the twenty-minute wait checking her email and picking out a couple of recipes to buy ingredients for making during the week. A Whole Foods run, a stop by JoAnn’s for the fabric to finish out the skirt she was working on, and then home again. She smiled and told the tablet to compile the shopping list from the recipes; happy she’d actually gotten the dishes done last night and did a little straightening before heading out that morning. Coming home to a clean house and before sunset on an errand day was an accomplishment all on its own. The timer on the tablet chimed at her and she slipped it back into her purse, rising from the chair and making her way back to the nurses’ desk. None of the nurses were there, and she sighed in a moment of annoyance. Usually at least one nurse was out here; all she needed was for someone to check the injection spot and confirm that she wasn’t about to explode from an allergic reaction to the allergy meds. She tapped her finger on the desk, trying to see where the nurses had gone to. She glanced over to the paperwork desk, but no one was there either. Maybe there was some staff meeting? ,, She glanced around the room, but she was the only patient left. Frowning, she leaned over the desk and called out, “Um, nurse?” No one answered. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. Tejah He was babbling on again, something about trade tariffs and export laws. Not that he was really explaining what those meant, just complaining about how they cut into his profit margins. The complaints meandered into the strange smell of the American airport and the cramps from the long plane trip. He murmured to her that the hotel wasn’t far away and there was plenty of time before they’d be having dinner with his American clients. Tejah smiled prettily, acting just the right amount of interested and airheaded to make him happy. People were staring. They always did, but this time it wasn’t just at her breasts or ass. Mostly it was at her hair. And the clothes, of course. Not many “sailors” at the airport, and she certainly wasn’t wearing a regulation outfit. Or have bright pink hair. She saw one woman cover the eyes of her little boy and flush in either embarrassment or anger. ,, Tejah didn’t frown, but she did pull closer to her husband. He smiled, sure she was excited to get to the hotel and be everything he’d trained her to be. He slipped an arm around her, his hand brushing low down her back and his fingers playing idly with the large bow sewn on the back of the outfit. The mother wasn’t staring at Tejah anymore and her flush took on the bright red of flustered indignation. She had leaned out of the check-in line, and seemed about to say something as they passed. ,, Then she vanished. Tejah had been staring directly at her, tense at the impending snit between the disapproving mother and her husband, who certainly couldn’t care less about some foreign woman’s offended morals. And she, the child, and the husband Tejah had been clinging to just vanished. She looked around, turning to see everything around her in the concourse – everyone was gone. ,, A flash of sunlight on metal caught her eye beyond the glass walls of the gate she was standing next to and a moment later the floor rattle beneath her boots. ,, Mathis He’d arrived hours ago with a long layover before his flight home to New York that evening. He was tired, and as fun as Thailand had been, it was nice to be back in a place where he knew the local language and where he didn’t have to watch himself around one of his firm’s big clients. Right now, the booth at the airport Applebee’s, the cheap beer, and the mediocre food was a small slice of heaven. ,, The news was running on the TV over the bar; he’d been catching up on recent events and flirting with the waitress when she’d wander by. He checked his watch: still two hours to go before he needed to be at his gate. He looked back up at the news, hoping the segment on the purchase of Sprint Nextel was coming up soon. He frowned at the screen. All the ribbons with financials and teaser texts were still running, but there wasn’t a talking head to go with the inset picture of a large office building. ,, The inset flipped over to picture of a middle-aged man, text appearing underneath it to identify him as Nevil Calbrit, whoever that was. Still no anchor. He glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone else was seeing this, too. Plates and cups and food were sitting abandoned at tables and the bartender was missing. He glanced at the other TVs he could see, two showing reruns of soap operas and another running a baseball game. Except there was only one outfielder left to play the game and a handful of fans spotting the stands. The outfielder was staring around the stadium, then fell to his knees and began to pray. ,, The silverware rattled on the tables and Mathis felt a rumble through the seat of the booth. ,, Lily Airplanes were great, but airports were a bitch. It was hurry up and wait from this line to that one, even with the electronic tickets and check in. Open the suitcase. Take off your shoes. That’s too big to be a carry-on, miss. You’ll have to check it. Yes, we’ll be careful with it, miss. ,, After she’d run through all the mazes and done a few turns on the treadmill, she visited the water bottle and bought herself an orange juice to drink during the half hour before she and the rest of the mice could board the plane. She put in her earbuds for her iPod and dialed up a shuffle list of songs, settling back and grinning, thinking about Los Angeles and finally, finally, getting a good break. ,, After a half-dozen songs she pulled out the buds and sat up, expecting people to have already creeped up into an impatient line to board. The boarding gate was empty. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. Had she missed the plane? Had she really missed the damn plane?!? ,, She jumped up, scrambling over to the floor-to-ceiling window wall that looked out on the tarmac. A deep sigh of relief went through her when she saw the plane still sitting at the gate. There was still time! She looked around, trying to find an airport employee or a steward or someone that could take her ticket and put her on the plane. ,, Movement caught her eye out the window and she stumbled to the floor to the ground as a plane slammed into the runway behind the boarding and taxi area.
  4. 1st Hour Nothing could have prepared them for the reality of what was happening in Manhattan. Radiating out from Time Square was just block after block of chaos. Fires roared out of control, blasts of all sorts of energy from electricity to light to creeping darkness could be seen in random spurts as the local National Guard tried to hold off the violent mutants with burst fire automatics. Dreadnoughts thundered down the avenues firing missiles and their forearm mini-gun lasers. Screams rose from the streets, explosions sounded and sirens blared. Through all of the disaster hundreds of thousands of people were trapped in the middle of it. Caught on the front line when the battle began or forced from their homes as the fighting damaged or destroyed their safe havens. Of course, the National Guard and local rescue teams were trying usher out survivors as best they could, taking them beyond the conflict to safe zones, but to say they were spread thin was nothing short of an understatement. Civilians scurried under and over wrecked vehicles, mutants and Dreadnoughts alike mowed any unfortunate in their path down with out a second thought, they hid where they could some were crushed under cars as the massive machines stepped on them as they passed to move towards a target, others still were simply victims of fallen rubble or a stray friendly fire bullet. By the score, civilians were being slaughtered and the Dreadnoughts (with less of a body count than the mutants) just couldn't keep up the pace. The battle was spreading, carrying itself out further and further by the hour. At this rate, Manhattan would be a crater by dawn. ,, Even the hardest among them could feel a pang in their gut or a tear in their eye. This was just horrible. ,, "Stealth system is engaged!" Curtis shouted over the engines, the open cargo door in the rear where they all stood looking out at the carnage, and, of course over the noise of hell itself. Compared to this, Dante had it easy they thought. "This is as close as I can get!" ,, "Please tell me someone has a plan." Alex's gut was so tight, knowing he was considering jumping down into that was enough to make him want to vomit. Sakurako was finishing calibrating everyone comm devices so the teams could communicate. She was dabbling with a few configurations on his wrist comm when she saw the havoc for herself the first time. She swallowed hard her stomach suddenly felt the same as Alex's. He placed his arm around her comfortingly, trying to shield her from the horrors going on below, but the noise was all to real. "You don't have to go." She didn't say anything, she just went back to distracting herself on his wrist comm. ,, Curtis looked over the edge and drank deep of the war zone that was underneath them. "As the most logical one here, I'd like to say for the record. We're beyond crazy." And it was true. Saying you're going out to go save the world, and actually doing it were on two totally different plates. It wasn't surprising if some of them lost their nerve. ,, "We hit them hard and we hit them fast." Warren moved to stand beside Curtis. He actually placed his hand on Curtis's shoulder, a gesture of respect from one warrior to another in some cultures, Curtis knew. We keep comm channels open and we support each other as best we can. Civilians are our priority, we're here to protect them first, kick ass secondary. We might not like each other sometimes," He glanced at Alex, as the two of them were still fighting over Warren's attitude towards teaching Morri about sex. "But we're all..." He hesitated, which was odd coming from him once you got him involved in something he was passionate about. "...we're all family tonight, guys. Keep each other safe." ,, "Guys!" Violet's voice came over their comms. "Oh, boy is it a poo storm down there. Alright... let's see. Satellite imaging is showing that there are Dreadnoughts battling mutants at the Rockefeller Rink, there are civilians on the radio in Hell's Kitchen trapped in the park and we have Brotherhood goons hunting and causing problems for trapped civilians in the Garment District, 8th Avenue and 38th street, right by the Manhattan Broadway Hotel. Aaaaand that's just the ones closest to you." ,, Oneca pressed her finger to her ear. "Thanks, Violet. This isn't going to be easy," She squeezed Warren's hand tight and he replied with the same. "There's no snake to cut the head off of. Best we can hope is for containment, to keep it from spreading." ,, "It's better than nothing." Cirque chimed up, gracefully balancing in a crouch along the edge of the loading ramp. "Violet, where are the nearest rescue squad base camps?" ,, "Umm..." They could hear hardlight keys being tapped with a 'booping' sound. "Nearest one is Chelsea Park. Doesn't look like the fighting has gotten there yet." ,, Alex tightened his wrist comm and took a deep breath. "Okay, good. We send those we rescue there, it's a start. There's too much for one team... who goes where?" ,, "We'll figure that out once we get down there." Warren said, tapping Cirque on the shoulder. She understood and took hold of his hand. "If you can fly, let's get on it. If not, grab a partner and let's get down there... we can't stay up here forever." ,, He was right. He usually was in stressful situations like this. Of all the mutants on the plane he and Morri were probably the two most dangerous with years of combat experience under their belts. Unlike Morri though, Warren was allowed to keep his mind, to some extent, intact. It made him the closest thing to a life line for them cling to in this chaos, a guy who'd done this sort of thing before (or so they thought). Truth of the matter was, this was no bar brawl or alley way scrap. This level of warfare was far beyond anything Warren could've imagined, just like the rest of them he was ready to spill his lunch. ,, Most of Times Square was empty, the battle having moved on to other parts of the city, but it was crowded nonetheless. Sonja, Oneca and Morri knocked out a few mutants who were harassing some civilians, but they didn't stick around long enough to thank their rescuers. Fire, ash and debris were the scenery with distant screams and explosions being the only noise instead of the bustle of traffic or horns blaring. ,, "We, uhh..." Cirque looked around and whistled. "Aren't stickin' around for the clean up, right?" ,, Morri looked at gymnast and shook her head as if to say 'you are out of your mind'. Everyone managed a smirk or small smile. It was the moment of levity they needed to formulate a plan of attack... ,, ...time to go to war. ,,
  5. Shortly after Night and Day at this point... ,, Curtis swallowed nervously as he approached the door. The requisite background research as recommended by Alex had been completed adequately to Curtis' understanding. All the usual structures of relationships or at least the attempt at such now led to this point. ,, Well, Caitlin had been friendly for certain, but would she display any interest in his advances? Curtis had no doubt the similarities to his sister, the sheer vibrancy and the... lure of her appearance had him hooked. But this was the sort of thing he'd never considered himself initiating, and prognoses were not on the face of it, promising. ,, But no hypothesis could not be confirmed without testing, Curtis reminded himself of the basic scientific procedure, and confidence boosted in that manner, knocked at the door to Caitlin's room.
  6. Dr. Heightmeyer felt incredibly nervous. She hid it well as she straightened the pillows on her chair one more time, but she could feel it in her gut. It all stemmed from one source: Inoae. It wasn’t just the fact that she was a Lantan. That would be unnerving enough; Dr. Heightmeyer was sure that no other human psychologist had ever attempted to treat a Lantan. But the psychosis that Inoae suffered from would be daunting if she were just a human. Trying to treat a Lantan for these kind of traumas made her feel like she was drowning, like she didn’t know where to start with her. Still, she had to try. She’d do her best to inflict no harm, even if she couldn’t heal. Standing, she smoothed back her blond hair and stared at her pillow arrangement, lost in thought. Worry and doubt rose in her, but she tried to keep it hidden. A soft sound caught her attention and Kate turned. She broke into a smile upon seeing the waif-like woman peering shyly into her office. “Inoae,” Kate called softly, “please come in. I’d like to talk to you.”
  7. Hello all. I am back and looking to run a game using the "Batman Beyond" setting (nobody is playing Batman. Heh.) using slightly modified Adventure! and Aberrant rules. The PCs will be new, (most likely) young heroes coming together to try and make a difference in the dark, sunless streets of Gotham. Here are the basic character generation mods with more background info for those unfamiliar (or just rusty on the setting) to follow. It will be a slightly more dark/gritty than and cartoon aimed at kids was though. Character Generation mods... Keep in mind that characters are not actual "Novas" or "Inspired" as in Aberrant and Adventure! (respectively) Instead the PCs are pissed off/dedicated humans, splicers, metahumans, aliens, homo magi, amazons and so on. Mods for ALL characters: - ALL characters start with a dot in Computer for free. Mods for "nova build" characters: - 30 NPs - Quantum and Node are still used to reflect power level and such. Taint is still used though at times handled a little differently. - Eufiber is still possible with good reason/concept in the form of "Unstable molecules", "Dreamstuff" and so on. - There is a fairly firm limit on no Mega-Atts past 1 - Q5 max at creation - Players are strongly encouraged to flesh out characters and go for depth (skills, backgrounds) over simply lots of powers and M-Atts. - Only the core book and the other officially published books are used. For example, nothing from the M-Att books is permitted (at this time at least). Mods for "inspired build" characters: - Standard creation (though skills like computer are available) - The purchase of other archetype knacks are permitted (i.e. a Daredevil buying a Stalwart knack) as long as there is no double stacking (i.e. 2 different initiative knacks) and no powergaming (come on, we are all adults here) - Players are strongly encouraged to flesh out characters and go for depth (skills, backgrounds) over simply lots of Knacks - Super-Science Medical Experimentation options can be taken to reflect being a 'splicer'. In general, every two obvious non-human options impose a +1 difficulty on all Social rolls, except those that are specifically intended to inspire fear or loathing. Dealing with other splicers, aliens and friends may not impose this penalty. Background to follow!
  8. The flight out of Ibiza was as clandestine as you could get in the early afternoon. Packing was done with haste, mostly Puck just dumping essentials and small, expensive and saleable items into the expensive luggage set he dug out of the depths of walk-in closet in his room. He left a note, written in surprisingly elegant handwriting, on the table, thanking the Quinn family for their hospitality and apologizing for the hasty departure - polite and done in under a minute. Then they literally snuck over the fence at the back of the estate, where a cab was waiting on a small service road running between the estates of the neighborhood. ,, They drove to the docks, not the airport, and boarded a small but luxurious sea plane. Once they were all in and the luggage stowed, Puck ducked into the cockpit to give their destination, "Quebec City. How close can we get?" ,, "Iles de la Madelane is ours," the female nephilim replied, flipping switches and doing other inscrutable actions that would takes them from the water to the air. "There's a boat service into the city, but it'll take a few hours. I can try to fly in low, closer, but there's a good chance we'll get tagged and taken in as smugglers." ,, "Madelane, then. Any customs or visa issues?" ,, "There's a dozen blanks in the closet in the cabin, depending on what you need. Some money, too. I'm cleaned out on clothes, though, and wouldn't have anything for the therian anyways." She glanced back at him, her smile distant and professional. "Either buckle in as co-pilot or go sit with your Sumaya and the therian. We're taking off now." ,, Puck made his way back into the cabin, pausing to grab the forged documents out of the closet along with one of the rolls of human money from a box with another half-dozen rolls. He slipped into a seat and belted in next to Cinnamon just as the plane revved up and pulled through the water and up into the sky. "We're going to land on a nephilim island in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence and take a boat into Quebec City. We've got some starter cash and ID's. We need to decide on who we're going to be while we're there. Tourists from the Iles de la Madelane is the easiest story, but it'll mean we're on a restricted visa and any hotel we stay at will require us to register so the city police and Sentinels can keep an eye on us." He grinned at Devon, "Well, you and me, mostly. Since we're both such monsters." ,, He flipped through the passports in his hands, glancing through the filled-in parts that set up sketchy but usable alternatives to the generic 'tourists'. "Let's see...." he chuckled, "oh, here's my favorite. The personal servants of the Bishop of Eastwick. Ah, that takes me back.....unfortunately the good Bishop had the indecency to die a year ago and there's been a snag in the confirmation of the new one we set up. Apparently some human actually managed to make a legitimate bid for the position. So that's out. Pity. So much freedom for so little scrutiny." He sighed and continued sifting through false identities, "There's also novitiates on a pilgrimage to the Grand Cathedrals around the world. Quebec City has a Grand Cathedral, but passing as clergy...." He glanced up at Devon and shook his head. "I barely know enough to really do it, and I don't think you could pull it off at all even if I glamoured you to look human. You're just a bit...wild...for a nice young priest and his pretty new wife." ,, He tapped the passports against his lip, thinking, "Although, I could probably pass well enough, with Cinnamon to help me, and you could be our bodyguard while we travel. The dynamics are close enough to the truth that so long as someone doesn't ask me to perform a mass or bless a baby, we might just pull it off." He cycled through the last ones, shaking his head. "Ehh, I think those are our best options. Cinnamon? You're our human expert, what do you suggest?"
  9. Hello. I have a character with a quantum of 5 and the clone and matter creation abilities. My question is this: ,, Is quantum reduced when I make a clone, meaning that my clone would have a quantum of 4 instead of 5?
  10. Having spent a year on the run from the Russian mafia can make one very very "alert" to the point of staring at every shadow one sees. ,, Ivan has gotten to that place. To the place where he checks under the bed for assassins, and in every closet in the rooms he rents. He's never found one, but somewhere in the back of his brain is the nagging sensation that the one time he doesn't check is the time he's going to be found and murdered. Such is the way of life for one who defied the mafia. His face bears a road-map of scars, long ragged scars that remind him every time he looks in a mirrored surface that he can never be the man he was before. ,, That man died as the wounds were being opened, as he was being devoured alive and frozen alive at the same time. Only in Russia would they make sure two lethal methods of death were utilized simultaneously and so callously. Russia. The thought of the spiraling towers in Moscow brings a slow, sad smile to his face. He never got to see them in person, mind you, but the pictures always made the people in them look so happy to be at the Kremlin. It was a joyous occasion. One he will never experience. And the smile fades, the intensity in his eyes fade alongside it, as if the realization he won't ever find that joy is a weight he carries day in and day out. ,, Who cares that he was reborn something more than before. Happiness, it seems is the one thing he cannot steal. Sitting on the bed, the Russian grips the blanket beneath him with a hand unconsciously, squeezing it until his knuckles pop softly from the strain. At the noise he lets go and flexes and unflexes his digits, loosening his hand up once more. This motel room is like all the others before it. Dingy, smelling of mold and moisture, stained sheets, a lock on the door that couldn't stop a 10 year old child from breaking in...and yet there is a sad familiarity to it. A relief that there is some sense of stability, some sense of consistency in his life. ,, A long ragged sigh escapes Ivan's lips and he curses softly in his mother-tongue. Lifting himself from the bed he goes to slide the window-shade to the side, peeking into the world beyond without even thinking. He's conditioned himself to be like this. It doesn't require thought anymore. His dirty and ripped jeans allow him to blend in with most of the rabble around, faded Army surplus jacket from Wars long ago on his shoulders, surrounding him in its embrace. A subtle reminder of the war he is part of daily. A war of existence. He glances down to the aged combat boots that adorn his feet. The only thing he brought with him from Vladivostok; they were his father's, or so he believes. ,, He goes back to sit on the bed, then stops. How long has it been since he's eaten? He can't remember. Instead of settling in for the night, he digs his hands into his jean-pockets and pulls out some faded and beaten currency. Do they even use this here? A shake of the head and the scarred Russian pulls the motel door open, stepping out into the night beyond, heading for a small Chinese restaurant nearby. Dinner, it seems, will be quick and greasy.
  11. story note The events of this thread takes place back dated to June, a couple weeks after Wings of Change 2 hours from ACE Atlantic June 20th, 1941 22:40 Hours. ,, "So, let me get this straight, Anne, we're doing a night landing?" ,, Anne smiled, looking over her console, the backlit dials proving helpful that she had put into this particular aircraft. "Yep, ACE Atlantic has been fully kitted out for such a thing, Dad... I don't know what is worse, really, the fact that a Woman is at the controls of this Kingfisher with a actual military rank or that her disabled Dad is in the observer's seat!" Anne said, straightening out the orange colored suit she had developed in partnership with her dad for cold-water and high-altitude operations, although it wasn't needed, it was all part of an identity she was starting to put together... although while on-board the ACE Atlantic she'll be known for the orange version of her suit, she can change it black when flying actual combat missions. Of course for now, that wasn't in the cards as she was needed to examine some wunderwaffe captured over the past couple months. She pulls out her letter given to her when her commission was practically rescued by public opinion, her record, and a few choice lies. ,, Lt. Cmdr. Anne Aceworth ,, It is of the opinion of Naval Command that due to your non-disabling injury after being shot-down over London earlier in June, and under advisement of President Roosevelt, we have decided not to Honoribly Discharge you. You will be transferred to ACE Atlantic for the time being to assist British and Resistance researchers in cracking how German Wunderwaffe function, as well as serve as a test pilot for any new carrier aircraft we develop. We, of course, will not mind any input you have. ,, We are also reminding you that any combat activity must not be done with any obvious tie to the US Navy. We are sure you will conceive a proper identity for when these times arrive. ,, In the meantime we look forward to your first report. Commander Pine is your CO on board ACE Atlantic. Also there is talk that the USAAF's Dynamic, Colonel Ryan Hawk may be transferred soon. This might be a definite boon for our efforts and we highly encourage you to work with your counterpart in the USAAF. ,, We will miss you here in the dungeon, but we look forward to seeing your continued success, no matter who you are. ,, For your continued efforts and on advisement of the Department of War, you are to be promoted to the rank of Commander, and will be the chief representative of the US Navy while onboard ACE Atlantic. ,, Good Luck, Commander. ,, Office of Naval Intelligence Washington D.C. Classification Level: Black ,, Anne sighed folding up the letter and the following promotion and assignment papers together. It was a bit hard with the gloves of her suit, but not impossible. ,, "So... how you getting home from ACE Atlantic?" ,, "I'll be picked up by the supply plane when it leaves in a couple days after we arrive." He said, brushing off the spare flight suit he picked up from the RAF before leaving with his daughter. "That and to be honest... I couldn't resist the opportunity to fly with you... how long has it..." ,, "4 years, Dad... we flew that crop-duster into that farmer's lake by accident when the engine failed." ,, Alex, her father and now no-longer Alex Sr. laughed. "Oh god yes, that was a funny explaining that to Mr. Jenkins." ,, Anne smiled looking back at her dad, the light from her dashboard playing off of the clear Aetherfiber helmet she was wearing. "Would have loved wearing this suit then and there, the water was still cold from thawing out... it was... mid-april when that happened, right?" ,, "Yeah... Your grandmother was livid!" ,, Anne shook her head and looked out to the ocean. "It's odd, Dad... after all this happened we still talk." ,, "Why not?" ,, "Everything's different now... everyone looks at me different." ,, "No kidding. But that doesn't change the fact you're my kid. My daughter. You'll never be anything less, and you're all the world to me." ,, He smiled. "That and you did look cute in that officer's uniform. The men will just go nuts." ,, Anne sighed. "I'm just glad I can wear it as a actual commissioned officer and not as a recently discharged pilot." ,, Alex wished he could put his hand on her shoulder, but she was too far ahead in the cockpit. They were talking by the onboard radio anyways. Anne just sat back, looking over her suit as the weather was quite calm and the wind was very light, looking at the moon. "Heh... we designed this thing well.. I just hope the color changing system functions properly." ,, "Oh the whole thing about hiding who you are... how you think you'll hide your face?" ,, "Well I'm going to wear a aviators cap under this bubble helmet and have some sort of mask to cover the face. My goggles should cover my eyes well." ,, She presses a button at the neck of her suit as the bubble helmet opens and collapses back. "Speaking of which I should put my cap on now..." ,, She puts on a aviator's cap and pulls the goggles down. "Whatcha think?" ,, "Not bad... that shock of blonde hair sticking out you'll have to work on." ,, Anne giggled. "It's a work in progress." ,, Two hours later... ,, The Kingfisher deploys it's landing gear and makes a steady landing on the deck of the ACE Atlantic. Commander Pine was waiting on deck for her, in his dress uniform. Anne hopped out, walking over to the Commander, not waiting for a ladder or anything. ,, "Commander Pine. I'm Commander Anne Aceworth. Naval Intelligence, Technology and Research division. I wager your clearance is black level or better?" ,, "Of course." The commander said, looking like he was waiting for something. ,, "If this is a rank thing, Commander... we're equals." ,, "I'm the commander of this ship, Commander Aceworth." "Yes, and I am not a member of your staff... I'm not here to tell you how to do your job, Commander, I just gotta keep you in the loop, and as you have the clearances, I'm perfectly fine with that." ,, "Yes, and as long as you are here I am your superior officer." ,, She stood face to face, only a couple inches shorter than he was. "Let's not turn this into a deck-cleaning exercise with our rank pins." ,, "I can have you kicked off my ship, miss." ,, "Yes, and you'd be obstructing important research into Wunderwaffe being employed by the German military machine. All over a perceived threat to authority." ,, Commander Pine adjusted the collar of his uniform. Anne was a strong personality, but knew how to ride that line. If it were anyone else he'd have them escorted to the bring for a few days to learn their lesson. ,, "But... I can see at least knowing where I stand on this ship is far more important right now." Anne saluted. "Commander Anne Aceworth, reporting for duty." ,, Commander Pine smiled offering his hand. "You took a lot there, Commander. I think you'll do just fine. No need for saluting then." ,, "You mean this was a test?" Anne said. ,, "Yeah... come on, I'll show you around the ship." ,, Anne's dad was assisted off of the Kingfisher as Anne looked to the Commander. "Alright." She said fiddling with the tie on her life preserver. She had gotten one from the RAF out of thanks for her help fighting in the Blitz. "Seems a good idea." ,, "What's up with the suit by the way?" ,, "Oh? It's the Mark 1 Extreme Environment and Altitude Flightsuit. Something I and my Dad have been working on." ,, "I would assume the orange is for it being a prototype and the actual model will be blue... I heard talk Luftwaffe pilots like to aim at anything brightly colored." ,, Anne nodded. "Trust me, we got a couple coloration options." ,, "Excellent..." He said seeing her Dad catch up fairly well on his prosthetic leg. "...odd your Father has clearance to even be here." ,, "Actually I just need a place to be until the supply plane arrives." ,, The commander nodded. "I'll be on that shortly. I think I'll show you two to the mess first, you must be hungry." ,, Anne nodded. "Would be nice, yes." ,, Commander Pine showed Anne to the door on the bridge island leading to the interior of the ship. "After you..."
  12. February 3rd, 2028 ,, They appeared on a deserted island. The island had not always been deserted. In fact, by the timeline of the universe they had just entered it had only recently been a veritable hive of activity. Less than six months ago, this island had been the capital of the Exalt! Nation and the center of an entirely new nova-centered controversy. Now it was silent, the buildings dotting land like dead coral sticking up from the ocean. ,, It wasn't a grave, though; or at least not a silent one. Birds chirped among the trees and ocean lapped happily along the beaches. The air smelled of tropical fruit and flowers. Arisi decided that it was odd, but pleasant. Her body had already made minor alterations to account for the differences in the quantum field, the presence of what Puck called "that other energy I felt in the old universe" and shorthanded by Bohdi to kistha, and the variation in background radiation. She noted these changes but wasn't really paying attention to them. ,, She glanced up at the man with her. He was a friend and mentor and lover, and now her travelling companion as she became the first of Puck's children to wander outside the comfortable but entirely safe environs of his personal universe. Her loose shirt and skirt ruffled attractively in the wind and she smiled, reaching out to request information from him through the Gestalt. Her smile faltered as she remembered that the Link was a universe away now and unavailable to her, and Darrik had insisted that if she really wanted to understand the world her people came from then she would need to learn what it was like to be alone in her own mind. He could link to her, but unless there was a need for it, he wasn't going to. ,, She wet her lips and chose the language she'd been shown had been most prevalent on Earth when her father had created his own universe and brought the Family with him. "Well, is this the right place?" English is not a very concise language, she not-quite complained to herself.
  13. Name: Arisi Concept: Physical Prodigy and Shapeshifter Nature: Explorer Allegiance: Darrik, in the QF-verse Evolution: Terat, Archetype - Child of Puck Theme: Arisi is curious about the world cir parents came from. HT: Varies, usually around average WT: Varies, usually slim for cir humanoid forms. Hair: White-blonde, curly, and long in cir usual form. Eyes: Blue-grey in cir usual form. Age: 19 years old Attributes STR: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Athletic) Mega ● DEX: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Flexible) Mega ● STA: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Energetic) Mega ●●● PER: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Intuitive) Mega ●●● INT: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Bright) Mega ● WIT: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Clever) Mega ● APP: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Luminous) Mega ● MAN: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Persuasive) Mega ● CHA: ●●●●● ●●●●● (Charming) Mega ● Mega Attributes and Enhancements Mega Strength * Quantum Leap Mega Dexterity * Physical Prodigy Mega Stamina * Adaptability * Health Mega Perception * Quantum Attunement * Body Awareness Mega Intelligence * Linguistic Genius Mega Wits * Mind of Matter Mega Appearance * Yin-Yang Mega Manipulation * Symphony of Touch Mega Charisma * Bardic Gift Abilities - Physical - Brawl: Might: Throwing: Archery: Athletics: ●●●●● Drive: Firearms: Gunnery: Heavy Weapons: Legerdemain: ● Martial Arts: Melee: Pilot: Ride: Stealth: Channel: Endurance: ●●●● Resistance: ●●●● Mental- Artillery: Awareness: ●●●●● Investigation: Navigation: Academics: ●●● Analysis: Bureaucracy: Computer: Demolitions: Engineering: Intrusion: Gambling: Linguistics: ● Medicine: Science: Survival: ●●● Tradeskill: Arts: ●●● Biz: Mediation: Modulate: Rapport: Shadowing: Tactics: Weave: ●●●●● Social- Disguise: Intimidation: Style: ●●●●● Interrogation: Seduction: ●●●●● Streetwise: Subterfuge: Animal Training: Carousing: ●●●●● Command: Etiquette: Instruction: Perform: ●●●●● Backgrounds: Allies: Attunement: ●● Backing: Cipher: Contacts: Dormancy: Equipment: Eufiber: ●●●●● Favors: Followers: Influence: Mentor: Node: ●●●●●, N-Stage Node ●●●● Rank: Resources: Reputation: Sanctum: Quantum: ●●●●● Quantum Pool: 50 Taint: - Temporary, - Permanent Chrysalis: - Temporary, - Permanent Archetype: Child of Puck Willpower: ●●● Initiative: 22 Powers (Level 1: Violet, Level 2: Blue, Level 3: Green, Level 4: Yellow, Level 5: Orange, Level 6: Red - In Theme BOLD) Body Modification * Enhanced Attributes: All Shapeshift ● Level: 3 Die Pool: Stamina + Shapeshift Merits & Flaws Internal Compass: 1 Time Sense: 1 Photographic Memory: 3 Sexy: 1 Lusty: 1 Aberrations (Low: Violet, Medium: Blue, Severe: Green) Quantum Beacon Inhuman Grace Eye of the Beholder Cannot Lie Distractable Known Languages Native: Bodhi Language: ●●●●● (native) Bodhi ● Is the most concise and precise language available (currently) to the baseline population. Communication takes roughly half the time of other baseline languages. Accidental misunderstanding through Bodhi is virtually impossible, even attempting to lie in the language is difficult at best due to the structure of the language. Requires Int 2 or above. ●● Communication, written or spoken, is done in a quarter of the time of any baseline language. Requires Int 4 or above. ●●● Communication, written or spoken, is done in an eighth of the time of any baseline language. Lying is impossible when speaking at this level or higher of Bodhi, due to the nature of the language and the level of complexity in communication. Requires Int 6 or above. ●●●● Entire paragraphs worth of information can be communicated through a single word, spoken or written; Bodhi at this level incorporates quantum fluxes to allow for the greatly increased efficiency. Concepts above baseline understanding can be discussed, much as baseline languages have technical jargon, but it is more cumbersome than regular conversation (effectively at the ●●● mark for efficiency). Requires: Int 8 or above if no quantum fluxes are being used to discuss/write about concepts beyond normal baseline understanding; this takes longer to communicate (effectively at the ●●● mark for efficiency). Quantum Attunement is required for full verbal communication at this level, Attunement ● is required for full literacy. ●●●●● Ditto ●●●● only entire novels, oratorical recitations, and other long communications can be compressed into single words. Also, discussion of concepts beyond normal baseline comprehension is as concise as regular conversation. Requires Int 10 or above if no quantum fluxes are being used to discuss/write about concepts beyond normal baseline understanding; this takes longer to communicate than with the fluxes (effectively at the ●●●● mark for efficiency). Quantum Attunement & Node ● allow full verbal communication at this level, Attunement ● is required for full literacy. Others: Romance Family Movements Walk: 7m, Run: 23m, Sprint: 53m Soaks Base Soak: 13 B/7 L Healing Rate: x5 Health Levels: Dice pool penalties due to injuries and pain reduced by 3. Unhurt Bruised Bruised Hurt Injured Wounded Maimed Crippled Incapacitated Dead
  14. Date: January 2028 The newsreader directed everybody’s attention to N!’s on-site reporter. Given that ‘everybody’ were a captive audience by definition – TV being what it is – everybody paid attention. ,, “This is Mei-Hua Chang, coming to you all live from outside the Project Utopia facility in Langxiang, where a confidential document leak has sparked a maelstrom of rumours about the recent absence of Team Tomorrow’s primary lineup, and secondary questions about the presence of Caestus Pax. Three days ago, top secret documentation was leaked to the press suggesting that Team Tomorrow’s First Team, led by the young prodigy Glory, has in fact been sent into space to battle an alien threat.” Those watching were better informed. They knew the rumours to be true. Meh’Lindi lay back on the couch and sighed. Her body crackled and creaked as her bones shifted under the surface of her skin. She had been feeling nervous since Darion first spread the ‘good word’ as he called it. She preferred to be in her larger forms when her nerves were taut, but the environs here would not accommodate her. She’d bring the house down, and that would make many people rather angry. Snow sat on a cushion on the floor, her rainbow-coloured hair falling free down her front. She leaned back into the distorted mass of Prudence’s body. Her torso groaned as tentacles writhed within. Seven long, serpentine arms jutted from the mass, seemingly at random places, and seven long necks coiled. Four of her heads were focused on the TV. One kissed Snow’s neck. The other two, in conjunction with four of her arms, were reading books. “This is awesome,” Snow said, in a surprisingly casual tone. “Exciting, maybe,” Prudence answered, “but I’m now sure ‘awesome’ fits it. If Utopia are hushing it up they’re probably re-running Independence Day, or some other alien disaster movie.” Meh’Lindi let them talk. It devolved fast into a collection of movie references. She did not watch movies herself. The science of taint occupied her mind the most. That and anger at the children who had advanced everything so far and then taken all their knowledge with them when they left. Chang was right to be cynical about the potential of our progeny, she thought, with utmost bitterness. Most of the remaining Anavasi were former Pandaimonion or Casablancas. Plenty of those left with Puck as well. Few had done their time with the Harvesters, as run by Geryon, or the Primacy or Nova Vigilance. She remembered all the good talk from back then. She remembered sitting in one of the sewer meeting points talking with her fellow Harvesters about the bright future awaiting them when the children grew up. They’d been waiting for Throwback and Case to return with the next batch of humans for a game of Zip Hunters on the particular occasion she was thinking of. ‘The zips will know their place then’, had been a common sentiment. ‘No more sewers, no more hiding’ had been another. ‘The rise of the One Race’ had been a rallying cheer. She had dined on human flesh and bones that day, and dined well. What fools we were. Nobody imagined that the children might take one look at the state of the world, turn around and declare ‘we really don’t care. Bye.’ Ironic, given that many Harvesters expressed that exact sentiment themselves. And they were all half-breeds, weighted down by human memories and half-broken relationships. Mei handed them back to the newsroom, and the special continued. Speculation, mostly, mixed with some careful information leaks. Meh’Lindi suspected Starling and her friends to be behind this leak. Utopia would never want the world to know that Team Tomorrow was undermanned right now. That was probably the reason for Pax staying behind. It also meant that they were confident in Glory’s ability to fight off an alien invasion. Quite the frightening thought, all considered. “You’re being real quiet, Lindi,” Prudence said, turning one flawless bald head her way. She always wore a face that artisans would dream of. Her vanity as one of Narcosis’s fops had carried over into pride at her new appearance and form. She continued to grow more beautiful, more alien, and to expand as time passed. Meh’Lindi suspected that her form would fail soon. It took enhanced sensors to hear it, but sometimes, when Pru had stretched her tentacles out as far as she could, her flesh sounded like tearing sails. What would emerge when it did? She was looking forward to it. “If Chang isn’t around to look miserable, someone has to take up the mantle,” Meh’Lindi said. Her voice emerged as a guttural, animalistic growl. Her long, razor teeth clacked together behind her veil of black silk. “I’m just thinking, Prudence.” “About?” “The past. The present. Where the two meet. And no, I’m not developing precognition.” “You say it like that’d be a bad thing,” Snow laughed. She was quite hard to see at the minute. Prudence had shifted her tentacles to forcibly stretch her body half around Snow. Snow turned and rose up on her knees, then rested on her friend’s body. “Don’t you think it’d be interesting to see what Chang sees?” Interesting, but I fear not pleasing. Chang was more sombre than ever since she developed the ability to ‘hear’ future echoes. It no longer seemed to be a point of philosophical correctness. Though the standing theory was that she just missed Lucrezia, or even that Lucrezia had somehow ‘addicted’ Chang to her, Meh’Lindi felt that there was something more behind Chang’s malaise. Only Sakura’s children seemed to motivate her. “The phrasing you’re looking for is ‘hear what Chang hears’,” Meh’Lindi said, “and yes, but we are as we are. That is not my way, nor do I think it ever will be. I am a changer of shape, like many of us, but I am still half a monster.” At least. “Chang never was a monster.” “And me?” Snow said, and batted her long dark eyelashes. “And me?” Prudence said, turning all seven heads Meh’Lindi’s way. Tentacles licked around her lips from the inside. Her elongated throats took on a rope-like appearance from the writhing within them. Meh’Lindi rolled her eyes. “Snow is, yes. You’re still a vain, preening starlet at heart, Pru. It is indicative that your first use for seven heads was to have six of them kiss each other while the seventh watched.” Snow laughed. Prudence raised one flawless finger. “Objection! Anyone that looked this good would do the same.” “They really wouldn’t,” Snow said. The two began to bicker, though in a manner so good-natured it could only raise smiles. Meh’Lindi always seemed to grin. She had no skin around her mouth. Her long teeth were visible from the front to the back. A reminder even in this seemingly human shape of what she truly was. She thought about Sakura, and Sakura’s children. We need to raise them better than the last ones, she mused. Maybe this lot won’t abandon us. But what a problem that poses! Without a connection to the world, why would they not? And how can we connect them when they must hide? Though perhaps, with Utopia distracted, an option presented itself. Sakura’s life over the last three months had consisted of nothing more than motherhood. It was what she was born to, after all, and what her life had been building up to. But the stress was wearing her down. “We should become babysitters,” Meh’Lindi said. Snow and Prudence stopped talking. As one, they turned to her. “Excuse me?” They both said, in unison. “We. The Anavasi. We should become babysitters.” “You’re not serious.” “She’s serious.” “I’m serious,” Meh’Lindi said. Behind her veil, she smiled for real. *** ,, Darion Mográine looked between the three Novas, searching for signs of mockery. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Snow and Prudence nodded. Meh’Lindi did not need to. In fairness he suspected they all were from the start. Prudence was walking humaniform at the minute, with the normal number of limbs, breasts and heads, and not a flicker of tentacle movement under the surface. Plus, she’d come wearing a flattering business suit. Snow, who he would normally believe needed to be nailed down with spikes and forcibly made presentable, had come dressed in a smart shirt and trousers, with a loose tie. Prudence wore the butch look better, naturally. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “It’s not a bad idea. Sakura’s overworked though she’d never say it. Three nova children, none of whom have their second parent around, are a handful for anyone.” “We can be their family,” Meh’Lindi said. “And perhaps correct the mistake made in the Nursery.” “Which is?” Darion studied her. “The Nursery made it so that the children were a family unto themselves. Even now, the remains of the Children of Teras are focused internally rather than reaching out to the larger Teragen. The experiment was, ultimately, a colossal error. Our children aren’t our children at all, they don’t know or care about us. The attempt to keep them ‘safe’, in the end kept them safe from viewing us as at best old people with outdated ideas, and at worst as completely irrelevant to their lives.” Darion chuckled. “A bit harsh, but in fairness, very few of them got far past their teenage years. I think we all went through that stage before we erupted.” “We didn’t found our own universe.” “Would have if we could have,” he replied, smiling. “Though I think you’re being a little histrionic, Meh’Lindi, I do think the idea’s sound. At the very least, a Nursery structure isn’t going to work because we don’t have the people to take care of it. Mal and Scripture are still dark. Bounty left with Puck. No surprise there, she wants to be with her kids. There ain’t gonna be a second generation without Sakura.” Nobody needed to state, or have stated, how grave that fact was. As a general rule people tried to avoid bringing politics up around Sakura, but she’d gone from important to critical. The Starling network was buzzing with information that strongly suggested Sakura was now top of Project Proteus’s shit list. The sterility retrovirus, so close to being removed from the board several months ago, was now doing its job again. If they put Sakura on ice, Proteus would have the nova race back at square one. He hated that all of this was falling on her shoulders. She’d been making eyes at him for a couple of months now, and probably before that, but he kept shrinking back. He felt compromised by his position. She wasn’t just a kind, gentle, intelligent, charming, beautiful, desirable nova woman… she was also a political weapon of enormous power. You didn’t seduce that sort of person. Or let yourself get seduced by them, either. You protected them. Still… when opportunity knocked… “I’ll float the idea to Sakura when I see her next.” “When will that be?” Prudence asked. Darion shrugged. “Depends on whether her kids have found a way to fold their mother into another dimension while they run riot yet.” “Aren’t they three months old?” Snow said. Darion nodded. “Yes, Snow. They are.”
  15. Real Name: Oneca Isabel Bahaar Nicknames: Demona, Lilith, 'Neca Occupations: Mutant High School Student Legal Status: American Citizen, minor. Aliases: Demona, Lilith, DarkFlame (all 'net handles) Place of birth: Los Angeles, CA Age: 16 Marital Status: Single, dating Warren Verona. Known Relatives: Mother (Scandanavian, Asa's fleshing her out as she's ported over from Jason's backstory, she's already a Valkyrie-like Superhero), Father (Rahim Bahaar), older sister (Sonja Bahaar), little sister (deceased, Saja Bahaar) Group Affiliation: None so far. Mutant Expression: Attempting to summon a demon to fetch the spirit of her dead sister. Height: 5 feet 7 inches Weight: 126lbs. Eyes: Tawny Gold Hair: Black Distinguishing Marks: Intricate vine tattoo over her face and down the left side of her body. Strength Level: Low-end superhuman. Known Powers: Destruction, flight. Abilities/Special Skills: Goth angst. Weapons Used: Sarcasm, hands. Personality: Gothier-than-thou. Personal Interests: Poetry, mythology, Morticia Adams. ,, Oneca is the middle child and youngest surviving child of the Bahaar family. Her father is a wealthy banker that married a Scandanavian super-hero; her elder brother became her elder sister a few years ago and was sent off to the mutant school in upstate New York. Her younger sister Saja died from injuries and exposure after sneaking out of the house when she was supposed to be down for a nap when she was about 6. Her parents have always felt guilty over the death, but Oneca took it the hardest and became obsessed with finding a way to contact her dead sibling. As she became a teen, this morphed into an obsession with the goth culture and magick (because with a 'k', it's real!). She triggered as a mutant last Winter Solstice while trying to summon a demon to go fetch the spirit of her sister while her parents were at a Christmas party. Her powers have morphed through her somewhat twisted view of the world and reflect demonic powers. ,, She has shown the ability to destroy items with a controlled brimstone-smelling fire, although she doesn't seem to be able to control fire itself. She has the ability to fly, most likely inherited from her mother as is her well above human level of strength, though it is on the weaker end of the mutant scale. During initial testing she also once ripped through brick and wood using only her hands; there were burn marks left on the material. The triggering also greatly enhanced her body, though save for the strength only to the limits of human possibility instead of beyond; she also manifested a vine-like tattoo over her face and down the left side of her body. When questioned about it she merely stated that it was a mark of 'favor', whatever that means. She is being observed at the school for any other powers, as a psychological profile shows that she could be prone to abuse of more subtle mutant abilities. ,, Character Sheet Attributes: STR: 3 DEX: 3 STA: 4 (Tenacious) PER: 3 INT: 4 (Pragmatic) WIT: 3 APP: 5 (Exotic) MAN: 4 (Devious) CHA: 4 (Alluring) Abilities - Might: Brawl: Throwing: Artillery: Awareness: 1 Investigation: 1 Navigation: Disguise: Intimidation: 1 Style: 2 Archery: Athletics: 2 Drive: Firearms: Gunnery: Heavy Weapons: Ledgerdemain: 1 Martial Arts: 1 Melee: Pilot: Ride: Stealth: 1 Academics: 1 Bureaucracy: Computer: 2 Demolitions: Engineering: Gambling: Intrusion: Linguistics: 1 (Latin) Medicine: 1 Science: Survival: Tradecraft: Diplomacy: Hypnosis: Interrogation: Seduction: 1 Streetwise: 1 Subterfuge: 1 Endurance: 3 Resistance: 3 Arts: 1 Biz: Mediation: Rapport: Shadowing: Tactics: Weave: Animal Training: Carousing: 1 Command: Etiquette: 1 Instruction: Performance: 1 Backgrounds - Allies: 1 (Father, rich banker) Attunement: 1 Backing: Cipher: Contacts: 1 Dormancy: Equipment: Eufiber: Favors: Followers: 4 (Two girls from the school - Rachel (goes by Raven) and Lily (goes by Lilith)) Influence: Mentor: 3 (Warren, bonuses congruent with skills from living on the streets and knowledge/unlocking of power) Genome: 5 Rank: Resources: 1 (allowance) Uniform: 12 (Nanofluidic, 4/5/3, 10% minimum cover) Willpower: 4 Focus: 4 Soak: 9B/ 7L/ 0A Healing Rate: 5x Mega-Attributes: M-STR: 1 (Thrower) Quantum Powers: Flight - 3 Entropy Control - 2 (Bioentropy Storm, Probability Corruption) Claws - 3 Merits & Flaws: Sexy - 1 pt Merit Nightsight - 3 pt Merit Lusty - 1 pt Flaw Obsession - 2 pt Flaw (Ghosts/Death/Evil) Addiction - 1 pt Flaw (Nicotine) ,, Logs FB's - 5 in Attributes, 2 in Willpower, 8 in Backgrounds PP's - 15 in Focus 9 in Quantum Powers (5 for Entropy Control, 3 for Flight, 1 for Claws) 3 in Mega-Attributes 3 in Attributes (9 Attribute points) XP Log: +108 (108) - January 2013 XP backlog - 30 (78) - Uniform 1-5 - 6 (72) - Flight 2 - 6 (66) - Claws 2 - 14 (52) - Entropy 2 (Probability Corruption) - 18 (34) - Flight 3 - 18 (16) - Claws 3 + 5 (21) - Bonus XP from Four Hours in Hell
  16. Name: Kylie Kendrick Gender: Female Height: 5 8" Weight: Hard to pinpoint, but easily 350+ lbs. Eye Color: Golden-Brown Skin Color: Caucasian (Pale) Ethnicity: Irish/Polish/German/Random European Cocktail Nationality: American Accent: Midwestern (with just a slight twist towards Southern) Age: 31 Eruption Date: N/A Appearance: Kylie is in her early thirties, and is what's generally known in certain circles as a BBW - a big, beautiful woman. She's the kind of girl who would probably be a knockout with an hourglass figure, if she could only lose, oh.. a couple hundred pounds. Despite that, she tries her best to dress stylishly, favoring longer skirts, dressy blouses with fun, often colorful designs, and large, dangly earrings. Her hair is cut in a stylish bob, naturally brunette but usually with chunky highlights - blonde, at the moment. She is rarely without a smile, and has a generally cheerful disposition. Known skills/abilities: An interior designer by trade, and an artist by hobby. She's also known to her friends and family as a "people person", and is great at connecting, interacting, and empathizing with people of almost any personality, ethnicity, and socio-economic status. History: Kylie is a Kansas City native. Raised as an only child, she actually has a large extended family, full of aunts, a few uncles, several half-siblings, and an obscene amount of nieces and nephews for someone raised as an only child. She's incredibly close to her mother, and feels a deep loyalty to the woman who worked herself to the bone to raise her as a single mom. She also has a good relationship with her father, though she's not nearly as close to the rest of her paternal family, since she wasn't raised with them and they have very little in common. She was an artistically talented child, set on a career in animation through her childhood and teen years. But as the cartoon industry became more and more dependent upon CGI, Kylie found herself less interested in that career path, and spent a few years adrift, trying a few college classes here and there, and working unpleasant customer service jobs that made her miserable. ,,Finally, around her mid-twenties, she decided she had to pursue something that would make her happy, and with the encouragement of her family, friends, and her live-in boyfriend David, she tried her hand at college again. This time, she went about it a bit more methodically - taking a personality and skill assessment test that suggested she consider a career in architecture or interior design - something she'd never really considered before. She decided to take a semester's worth of design courses, and was immediately hooked - she had finally found her new passion. ,,College took a few years to get through even though it was only an associates degree, since she had to work to support herself. Her relationship with David came to an amicable end during her final year of it once they realized they had different desires for the future. She found an internship selling furniture at a major department store, and found she enjoyed the job enough to stick with it for awhile, even though it wasn't serious design work - the pay was good, and she needed the health benefits. She settled into a comfortable routine of friends, family, and work - knowing she should do more to care for herself, wanting to lose weight so she could find a new boyfriend and settle down into the family life David hadn't been interested in, but too busy in life and resentful of the need to work at it to really want to do much about it. ,,Kylie also has an incredibly extended network of friends that are very dear to her, including her best friend since fourth grade, Angelina, who lives in St. Louis, and her other best friend since high school, Khris, who lives nearby in the suburbs of Kansas. She considers the two of them to be like sisters, and was incredibly relieved to find Khris after all the crazy disappearances - indeed, having someone she loves nearby that she feels responsible for is probably the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. ,,Kylie is an artsy nerd - her friends are the freaks and the geeks, and she's happy to be a part of that society. She plays role-playing games, reads fantasy and sci-fi books, and loves art museums, burlesque shows, Renaissance festivals, and gaming conventions. She listens to almost every type of music, loves to sing karaoke, dreams of starring in community theatre, and used to enjoy playing instruments, though it's been a very long time since she's been proficient at any of them. She's also pagan, and proud of it. A practicing witch since her teenage years, she's seen her share of strange occurrences, and has an oddly pragmatic view of magic and divine spirituality, often claiming that to her, all religions are just 'paths the the same destination'. She's inherently at ease about her faith - laughing off people's cautious confusion about what spells are, calling them 'prayers with props', and has a way of normalizing the unusual religion, making people feel a little silly for thinking of it as something too far 'out there'. She's certainly a much more urban, hip version of a 'witch' than most people would expect from visiting their local new-age store, and she answers questions with a casual ease that takes most nay-sayers off-guard.. a carefully honed 'offensive-defense' developed during her conversion to paganism while in the midst of a five-year stint at a highly dogmatic private Christian school. ,,She also has two cats, Sheba and Resa, both sisters from the same litter that are getting up in years - she's had them since she was about seventeen. Both are typically tabby cats - Resa is black and grey striped, cool and aloof and generally only affectionate towards Kylie, or people very close to her. Sheba is a brown, black and beige tortoiseshell calico, and a total attention slut that will happily seek out pettings from anyone willing to give them, once she gets over her initial fear of the stranger - something that typically takes all of about ten minutes. The two cats get along far better than most felines - they rarely fight, and are often seen curled up near or next to each other for naps (preferably close to Kylie), or even grooming each other. ,,Kylie is currently living in the neighborhood she grew up in, in an older, rougher, more ethnically diverse part of Kansas City called 'Northeast'. It doesn't phase her much, it's more a poor neighborhood than a bad one, though the occasional gunshots aren't unexpected, and she's never surprised to hear about her neighborhood on the news. She loves her city, though, and knows most of it like the back of her hand. She's living in the other half of her mother's duplex at the moment, and saving up for a nice downpayment on a home in a better part of town - or at least she was, before almost everyone off the face of the earth disappeared. ,,
  17. Name: Tejah Ebadi Gender: Female Height: 5’7” Weight: 140 pounds Date of Birth: September 28, 1994 Eruption Date: N/A Allegiance: Husband, Mohammed Ebadi Appearance: Young, athletic and pretty, Tejah is a mix of Middle Eastern and something else, presumably Caucasian. She doesn’t know her ancestry so she can’t say for sure. Her skin is a pale brown, and her features are a blend of two cultures. Known skills/abilities: Tejah is good at being a wife. Her life has prepared her for little else. In the orphanage, she was given a basic schooling and taught how to be a good wife. At sixteen, Mohammed found her there and took her to be his wife. From there, she was groomed to be his partner, mostly in a sexual way. His other three wives were busy bearing him children and caring for his house; Tejah was there to care for his need for a young, nubile wife. She has learned a few things from him, just by listening to him as he discusses business or engineering on the phone; sometimes, after sex, he will sometimes make small talk about his work. Aside from that, she has learned to appease his fetishes and demands. He has ordered her to do things that go against her religion and her comfort, but she has been an obedient wife. As such, she’s learned some things about style, disguise and other social activities to please him. History: Tejah was left in an orphanage not long after her birth. She was taken in, given a name, and a minimal education. It wasn’t too bad; she learned about Allah and his prophet Mohammad, and if her childhood was boring, it was also secure. Sometimes she wanted to be adopted, but sometimes, she liked to dream of who her parents were. At sixteen, a man came to the orphanage and took her away. He wasn’t adopting her, though; she was to be his wife. Tejah was sacred of him; he was older than her, had three wives already and she soon realized he wasn’t a devout Muslim. It soon became clear that she was there to serve his sexual pleasure and that was why she was put on birth control. His wives resented her; she was given pretty baubles and new clothing, and often went traveling with him on business while they took care of the house and the children. What they didn’t know is that while on the frequent trips, Tejah was required to play to whatever fantasy her husband might concoct, which often left her upset and embarrassed. ,,
  18. Mathis McAstor Background: False glory. That was an unfortunate secret of the McAstor family. Living in a veritable mansion - sold on the cheap from celebrity repossessions, a marriage between fashion designer Connor McAstor and socialite Patricia McAstor - a tepid arrangement packed with affairs, a mother who had none of the blue blood she claimed, and a man more and more riding on his company's fame rather than his own. Mathis McAstor despised these truths, and resolved to succeed on his own merits. Managing an academic scholarship to get into Harvard, he proved a clever speaker and intelligent individual. He wound through graduations fast, and an impressed professor networked him into the plush arms of Brandenburg & Klarfeld Associates, a mid to upper class private legal firm specializing in criminal defense. Mathis proved to be a rather effective and successful young private attorney, notably not just for a strong win-loss ratio, but a willingness to take on less affluent clients. Though the firm partners were less than comfortable with these arrangements, the overall appearance of egalitarian service ended up benefiting the firm. And then, he defended a man accused of embezzlement, banker William Riley the Third. Mathis listened to his client's protestations of innocence, faced down the prosecution and smiled when the jury verdict came. Reasonable doubt had won the day. McAstor was offered a thank-you vacation through Eastern Asia, by a joyous client. In all honesty, Mathis had had his doubts about the innocence of William Riley the Third, and under normal circumstances would have let his misgivings turn down the offer for him, but tired out from the case, looking for a break from the strain, he accepted. His expenses paid and shipped off to Tokyo, then Seoul, then Bangkok, Mathis had to admit the stress relief was impressive, if a bit dubious. Then, arriving in the Kansas City international airport, the world changed everything, and such questions became... moot. "Sheet" Concept: Lawyer caught up in the Vanishing. Nature: Judge ,, Attributes Intelligence •••, Wits •••, Per •• Strength ••, Dexterity ••, Stamina •• Charisma •••, Manipulation •••• (Persuasive), Appearance ••• ,, Abilities Academics ••• (Law) Awareness ••• Bureaucracy ••• Etiquette •• Investigation ••• (Interviews) Perform ••• (Oration) Rapport ••• Streetwise •• Style •• Subterfuge ••• ,, Backgrounds Resources •• [5 left to be spent] ,, Other Stats Willpower ••••• Initiative +5 Movement: [WALK 7m/RUN 14m/SPRINT 26m] ,, BP Log 4 skill dots - 8 2 Willpower dots - 4 3 Specialties - 3
  19. Name: Krystal Johansson Concept: Graphic Novelist Nature: Architect/Survivor Allegiance: Self (currently) Theme: HT: 157.5 cm / 5' 2" WT: 53.5 kg/ 118 lbs Hair: Deep Auburn Eyes: Green Age: 27 STR: 2 PER: 3 APP: 4 [Stunning] Brawl: 0(2) Artillery: 0(3) Disguise: 0 (4) Might: 0(2) Awareness: 1(4) Intimidation: 0 (4) Throwing: 0(2) Investigation: 1(4) Style: 1 (5) Kenning: 0(3) Navigation: 0(3) DEX: 3 INT: 3 MAN: 2 Archery: 0(3) Academics: 2(5) Diplomacy: 0(2) Athletics: 1 [Dance](4) Analysis: 0(3) Hypnosis: 0(2) Firearms: 0(3) Bureaucracy: 0(3) Interrogation: 0(2) Gunnery: 0(3) Computer: 3(6) Seduction: 0(2) Heavy Weapons: 0(3) Demolitions: 0(3) Streetwise: 0(2) Legerdemain: 0(3) Engineering: 2 [Repair](5) Subterfuge: 0(2) Martial Arts: 1(4) Gambling: 0(3) Melee: 0(3) Intrusion: 0(3) Pilot: 0(3) Linguistics: 0(3) Ride: 0(3) Medicine: 0(3) Stealth: 0(3) Science: 1(5) Survival: 0(3) Tradecraft: 0(3) STA: 2 WIT: 4 [Creative] CHA: 3 Channeling: 0(2) Arts: 4 [Illustration](8) Animal Training: 0(3) Endurance: 2(4) Biz: 2(5) Carousing: 0(3) Resistance: 0(2) Drive: 1(5) Command: 0(3) Meditation: 0(4) Etiquette: 0(3) Modulate: 0(4) Instruction: 0(3) Rapport: 1(5) Perform: 0(3) Savvy: 0(4) Shadowing: 0(4) Tactics: 0(4) Weave: 0(4) Backgrounds Menagerie: 3 (Fraz - large Akita/Malamute/Wolf mix) Reputation (Comic Artist): 1 Resources: 3 Willpower: 6 Initiative: 7 Merits & Flaws Low Pain Threshhold Nightmares Known Languages Native: English Others: None (Beyond using Google translate) Movements Walk: 5m, Run: 15m, Sprint: 29m Soaks Base Soak: 2B/1L Healing Rate: Normal Health Levels: Unhurt (OK) Bruised (OK) Hurt (-1) Injured (-1) Wounded (-2) Maimed (-3) Crippled (-4) Incapacitated Dead Bonus Points: +2 Attributes (10bp), +3 Willpower (6bp), +3 Specialties (3bp), Low Pain Threshold (+3bp), Nightmares (+1bp) Menagerie 3 - Dog Companion - FRAZ Strength 4, Dexterity 4, Stamina 4, Perception 2 Abilities: Athletics 3(7), Awareness 3(5), Brawl 3(7), Endurance 2(5), Might 2(6), Resistance 2(6), Stealth 2(6), Survival 2(4) Willpower: 5 Health Levels: OK, OK, -1, -1, -2, -2, -3, -3, -4, Incapacitated Attacks: Bite 5L, Claws 3L Experience (100/100): Strength 4(16xp), Dexterity 4(16xp), Stamina 4(16xp), Willpower 4-5(9xp), Survival 1-2(7xp), Brawl 3(6xp), Extra Bruised Level(3xp), 2 Extra Maimed Levels(3xp), Endurance 2(7xp), Might 2(7xp), Perception 2(10xp) Name: Krystal Johansson Gender: Female Ethnic Background: Swedish, Irish, Germanic Nationality: American Age: 27 Height: 5'2'' Weight: 118 lbs Eyes: Green Hair: Deep Auburn Handedness: Left Description: Krystal is a gorgeous graduate student, short and slender, yet buxom. She has stunning green eyes that at times take on a blue or grey hue. Her silky hair is a deep auburn and hangs straight to her shoulder blades, though she has dyed it blond on several occasions. She usually dresses very casually, with loose, frayed jeans or cargo pants and a variety of oversized college sweaters, worn vintage or band shirts, and tank tops, but can dress up for business if required. She always has a number of pens and pencils on her, and a sketch pad covered in surprisingly detailed doodles. She is often accompanied by her faithful friend, Fraz, short for Frazetta. Fraz is Krystal's beloved dog and possibly her best friend. She is a playful, well trained, and loyal mutt, an unusually huge and hardy - but not overweight or clumbsy - Akita-Malamute-Wolf crossbreed, with a few other bits rolled in. Krystal got her as a puppy three years ago when her previous dog, Fawkes, died. Protective of her mistress. Personality: Krystal is a vibrant and confident woman with a stubborn resolve to make her own way on her own merits and talents rather than her looks. She's been told more than once she could be a model - bikini and lingerie mainly, with her figure - but she has absolutely no interest in it and refuses to work in a field in which she could be compared to her mother. She works very hard and is very reluctant to accept any charity or help. Though when she first struck out on her own she had rough luck and a tough time and at time considered trading on her looks, finally things have begun going her way and she has made a career off her artwork. Despite her mother telling her of their family's supposed psychic abilities and alien abductions, and meeting the rest of her mother's family back in the mid-west on several trips, Krystal thinks of all that supernatural stuff as pure hogwash - same with aliens. Much to her annoyance, she seems to be a weirdness magnet, and meets far more than her share of similar freaks, even for a place like Vegas. Which is how she ended up meeting her long-term boyfriend. She is quite devoted to her boyfriend of six years, Ian Goldberg, and cares for him deeply, despite his issues and belief in conspiracies and aliens. Lately, she has been dropping hints that she would like them to 'formalize' their commitment to each other. Her steadfastness has been a great boon to him as well. In high-school, she was quite into cheerleading, gymnastics, and dancing, at least for a short while, before her breasts fully blossomed. Still, she stays active and long nights at work followed by homework then school the next day has helped her learn to push herself to her utmost limits. She is a good student, and studies hard. Surprising to her, she actually enjoys her Occult Sciences and Myth and Symbols classes - she eyes the subject matter with a skeptical eye, but the occult and religious iconography give her great ideas for her artwork, and the history helps with her writing. Many of her other studies also help her contribute details to her artwork. Due to her self-reliance, Krystal has also developed some definite skill maintaining and fixing things around the house. She even ended taking enough shop class electives to be more than halfway to an degree to develop them further and has a slew of _____ for Dummies books that she had practically memorized. Krystal is a very gifted artist, with a love of the comic book medium, if not for superheroes. She prefers fantasy concepts and has a style somewhat reminiscent to Brom, Royo, and Frazetta, polished with digital techniques. Despite her intentions, many of her pieces end up darker than she had originally envisioned. She was extremely disappointed that the graphic novel she spent a year slaving over - A Thousand Broken Dreams - and that she self-published, barely sold. It also meant that she couldn't afford to go to college out of state as she wanted, instead ending up going to a local community college. Since puberty, Krystal has suffered terrible nightmares, indistinctly baroque, Lovecraftian, and spiritual, then leave her waking up sweaty and trembling. She blames it on all the fantastical bullshit her mother and family believes in and spoke about freely in front of her. Jolene believes her daughter is a Dreamer and Clairsentient, possibly even able to channel spirits. She tried taking medication for it, but it usually leaves her feeling worse than the nightmares, so she suffers privately as best she can. Background: Krystal was born to Jolene Johansson, a small town girl from Maine who ran away to Vegas with her boyfriend when she was fifteen. By sixteen, Jolene was pregnant and single, her boyfriend ditching her when he found her in bed with another man. Krystal was born and raised in Las Vegas, her mother raising her by herself, working as a showgirl and stripper. Krystal grew up well aware of what her mother did, Jolene never hid what she did from her daughter. Krystal also knew that the men that her mother brought home for a few days or weeks, or rarely months, wasn't her father, or even a replacement for him. She never felt the need to find a replacement for him either. Once Krystal was a little older, and Jolene was making a decent living dancing on various stages, they began to make regular visits back to Jolene's family in Maine. Her mother always enjoyed the visits, and her family never held anything against the lifestyle she chose. Krystal on the other hand, hated the small town after after the bright lights of Vegas, the cold, and their weird belief in the uncanny. The visits were never short enough for her. When she was sixteen, Krystal moved out of her mother's home to find her own place. Though Jolene tried to convince her not to, Krystal was tired of her mother's beliefs and the way her boyfriends would look at her - Krystal also felt guilty about the one boyfriend of her mother's that she had slept with, even if Jared was closer to her age than her mother's, and she was sure her mother didn't know about it. Krystal found a tiny studio apartment and paid her way waitressing and selling art commissions online. While finishing high-school, she slaved her nights away frenetically working on her graphic novel. A year later, A Thousand Broken Dreams was finished, Krystal had graduated high-school, and thought she'd be on her way to college in California. Instead, her graphic novel flopped - she only managed to sell twenty-one copies, and seventeen of those were to family members and only one person bought it as a PDF. The money she lost self-publishing meant she couldn't afford to move out of state or the tuition, so she had to enroll in a local community college. Further, due to all the time she her graphic novel, she had lagged behind on her commissions, so even that as a source of income was drying up. But she persevered, gaining her Bachelor of Arts degree, and even better making a name for herself with her artwork, through commissions and a webcomic she wrote and drew. After rewriting and redeveloping A Thousand Broken Dreams for a final year project, people took notice, and the Vertigo imprint of DC comics picked it up. As the sole writer and artist for the series, she makes a fair bit from it and associated merchandising. Through work on other comics (mostly covers and mini-arcs) and networking at various Cons - she's very well received at ComiCon, though she's quite aware a part of that is her appearance - Krystal has landed several other projects. She's now the lead artist for the comic adaption of the Dresden files, and how done concept work for a number of movies and video games. Recently, she and Neil Gaiman developed an idea for a digitally released graphic novel that they will collaborate on. After attending several Cons in Kansas City and surrounding areas, and talking to several Universities and colleges in the area, Krystal and Ian moved to Kansas City, buying an older house in the Brookside neighborhood. While working on her graphic novel series and other projects, Krystal is now working part-time on her Master of Fine Arts degree and a degree in Digital Animation at the Art Institute Internation - Kansas City. Too bad UMKC didn't have the program she wanted, it was only a few blocks away from her home on Walnut street.. With many comics moving to digital distribution, Krystal is looking to capitalize on the idea. Along with working toward making Graphic Novels a full-fledged format, rather than just a number of individual issues bound together, she is also looking at adding subtle animations, digital lighting and shading effects, links/pop-ups to additional content, audio and similar effects to take advantage of the digital format of comics. This is the main focus of the project she is developing with Neil Gaiman. In addition, she's interested in the idea of developing an interactive novel/video game, in the image of Alan Wake. It was a lot of hard work, but it has finally paid off. She's making a good living working in a field she loves, and is at the forefront of an emerging new way of blending visual art and storytelling. She has a boyfriend who likes sex every bit as much as she does, and if he came with some rough edges, she had made a good job of polishing them. She was even getting along better with her mother, now that they didn't live in the same city. It's about all she wants and needs, and she doesn't intend on letting it go. A Thousand Broken Dreams: A lengthy graphic novel that Krystal wrote, penciled, and coloured all by herself. The novel is structured similarly to Pulp Fiction, with many interweaving plotlines and points of view. The setting is a noir-ish urban fantasy, with a mild retro-steampunk aesthetic that is very emotive and eye-catching. The tone is gothic and darkly cynical, despite what Krystal had intended, though one of the plot threads is very light-hearted and brightly coloured by contrast with the rest of the series. Krystal keeps a battered, dog-eared copy of the original version with her, and is often surprised by some detail she didn't remember adding, while leafing through the pages. She doesn't remember drawing/writing half the things in the graphic novel... but she was very stressed by all the hard work she put into it, only to see it fail. Ian Goldberg: Ian used to be rude and condescending to women, treating them like baby-makers and didn't believe in the fidelity of people; they cant be trusted, best to not get attached to them. And the government is even worse, a morass of conspiracies and hiding the truth about aliens. But with the steadfastness of his girlfriend Krystal, and medication to ameliorate his paranoid delusions and bipolar disorder, he's gotten much better and is even happy. He has a hot girlfriend with the sweetest tits, an amazing dog, and a nice house in the suburbs (something he never imagined). It's about all he wants and need, and he doesn't intend on letting go. He's bought a ring, and is working up the courage to ask Krystal to marry him. Though he still maintains his AlienHunter.org site, he puts more effort in being an investigator for In The Shadows Securities and Investigations, LLC and being a freelance writer for the local paper, criticizing and reporting on City Hall and the government. At the time of the Event, Ian was out of town for business. Krystal is very worried about him, especially if he can't get his meds - the mass disappearances will just feed his delusions. Fraz: An Akita-Malamute-Wolf crossbreed, with some other bits rolled in. Fraz is freakishly huge and hardy, yet still agile and not overweight, with a gleaming white, grey, and brown coat. Well trained and loyal, she is playful and friendly, yet fiercely protective of her mistress. Has in full the typical Akita fastidiousness. Initially standoffish towards other dogs, until she gets to know them ,, Home: A nice three story home, nearly a century old, but well maintained and updated. It's a corner lot at Walnut St. and 61st St (This house, but on the corner, and somewhat different decor). Krystal converted the 3rd floor loft into her personal study/studio. The basement is still being finished - some of it painted, but the rest is at least is drywalled and mudded.
  20. Just got us moved into the actual Games tab; everyone should have an invite. Please post up at least a general bio in the Character Roster thread. You don't have to put your character sheet there, but you can if you want to (easy reference). ,, Also, I got out of town from August 13th through the 18th (Tuesday through Sunday) at GenCon. I will have internet access and my computer, but I make no promises on posting during that time.
  21. July 25th 2013 12pm Eastern Standard Time Langely DSA Headquarters ,, Rebecca decided to sleep in. By the time she woke up, it was very much lunch time on the DSA campus where she lived. The NextGen initiative has been gutted, but the young nova and her compatriots were still DSA agents... sort of. Rebecca, being the hyper competent, easily bored type went over to her computer first and started managing her Facebook and Twitter accounts. ,, Rebecca had a deep-seated melancholy lately. She was planning to pop over to the moon, but suddenly lost the interest when Naomi Minami-Hideyoshi passed... someone she had idolized. It just seemed now life seemed a bit less colorful, and to her the later vetoing of her request to start gearing up for her moon trip later only seemed to further increase her boredom towards her daily drudgery. ,, That, and on top of that was the Mexico City disaster. The Adults were still stirred up about it, but there wasn't any tell why. ,, She walked around the kid's section of the campus, eventually staring at a vending machine, seeing herself standing there wearing a pair of grey overalls she wore as pajamas, her slightly purple hair a complete disaster. ,, She cracked up laughing seeing herself, and a few people walked past wondering just what was up with their young Nova under their roof lately. ,, Scratching her head, she started considering choices from the rotating food vendor that had microwavable junky-type food.
  22. The Proposal ,, ,, Director Drumm never taught a class, yet here they were. Several students from all different backgrounds and talent all assembled in his office. Mrs. Childs had personally went to each class room and pulled each of them from their studies. Some, like Kazuo, Warren and Oneca simply assumed they were in some sort of trouble... again. Others like Kia, Alex and Curtis found it strange, knowing they'd done nothing wrong, to be pulled from their class. Yet others like Caitlin, Daniel and Morri simply went with the flow. Why sweat the why's and wherefores when you'll know soon enough, right? ,, There were several chairs all lined up in rows in front of his massive hand carved, oak desk. As always he was immaculately groomed and radiated that charisma that set all the female students hearts aflutter. He adjusted the lapel of his incredibly expensive suit and greeted them all as they entered. Casually each took a seat and waited, wonder what was going on. Finally after several moments he clapped his hands together and beamed them all a smile, the sort of smile that told them all in a single gesture that he had incredibly big news. ,, "First of all, I'm sorry for pulling all out from your classes," He raised up his hands apologetically. "I know all of you would rather be there soaking up all that knowledge instead of here with me, just chillin' and talking." ,, "Really, it's cool, take you time." A majority of the students snickered and giggled when Warren chimed up. Others, the more erudite of the lot, offered him a scowl to remind him he wasn't funny. ,, Drumm shared a smile, expecting someone like Warren or Jaunt to have something to add. "I intend to. Because this is incredibly important." ,, "What is this all about anyway?" Sakurako asked. "I'm a bit confused." ,, "All will be revealed, no worries." He said as he did his customary lean on his desk. ,, After everyone had made a trip to to large buffet table filled with snack trays and sodas he began. "Ladies. Gentleman. I am here to disscuss with you something very important: Mutant Terrorism. Those two words are seeing more and more use these days and unfortunately there isn't any end in sight and the more use it gets the harder and harder it will be for members of the mutant community to ever achieve an equal status among the nations of the world. I hate to put it like that, but we all know it's politics and not brute strength that win most wars and make no mistake, this is an age of war." ,, "This school," he continued. He was a natural speaker and had already made eye contact with everyone at least twice. Each student felt lik ehe was talking to them despite how many others were actually in the room with them. "Meaning myself, Mrs. Childs and our benefactor-" ,, "Dr. Hunt?" Curtis said, with a measure of excitement uncommon to him. He'd wanted to meet Doctor Hunt for a long time and on the inside had hoped he'd be here to speak today. It wasn't until a moment later that he realized he'd spoken out loud and cut Director Drumm off in mid sentence. ,, He only chuckled a little bit, pleased by Curtis's enthusiasm. "That's right, Doctor Lawrence Hunt, the man for whom this school is named. We have been working for years to develop a plan that will assist the mutant culture into winning over the nations of the world and helping to establish a balance of peace. Our plans hit an unforeseen snag with arrival of mutant terrorist cells like The Brotherhood and private clubs like Ragnarok. Today's military technology is no prepared to deal with a mutant threat." Everyone noticed how Drumm was different from the media or the government when he spoke. He used terms like 'a mutant' instead 'the mutant' threat. Like the students at the school were all aware, it wasn't their fault mutants abused their powers. The fault lay on the mutant responsible. "Just ask Sonja. How many of their killer robots have you dimantled recently?" ,, "Two." Sonja replied calmly. "To be fair though, I had help with the first one." She smirked and tossed a wink to Kia. ,, "Fair enough. Again, nice work ladies. I make that point to make this one: everyone on this planet reserves the right to live a life free of bigotry and persecution regardless of their genetic disposition. So we're starting a campaign here to combat both mutant terrorism and government persecution." ,, "What, we gonna picket the White House?" Kazuo snorted, already looking thoroughly bored. ,, "I didn't say we were going to picket anything, Kazuo." Drum stood up and his expression became so serious the people could feel their heart beating in their chest. "I said combat." Kazuo leaned up in his seat and Warren leaned forward. "Yeah, got your attention now, don't I? I'm here to make you all a very, very unorthodox deal so I'll simply put it as simply as I can. When mutants terrorists appear, you will be there to stop them. When the nations of the world sick their killer robots on the mutant populace, you will be there to dismantle them. You will be watchers over the world protecting both human and mutant kind alike. We don't need to win over the governments we need to win over the people and if we can do that then mutant kind will have a stronger advantage over the nations of the world we can begin negotiating towards a racial unity." ,, "You want us to become super heroes." Caitlin said flatly, bunching all that fancy reasoning into a single, simple sentence. ,, "In a manner of speaking, yes." His reply was as casual as it was honest. "I've spoken with all of you who have family and your families have all given me their blessing to proceed with this project, all I'm missing is what you want. If you choose not to be a part of this project, then I understand completely and will not hold it against any of you. It will be dangerous, the training will be tough, but I ask you to consider the good you will all be doing." ,, "The Sentinel Project has been in development for over seven years and of all the candidates Doctor Hunt, Mrs. Childs and myself have had the honor of meeting, you are the very best. Physically, intellectually and of course genetically." ,, "We're the strongest mutants you could find." Warren jumped on the band wagon of summing up answers. ,, "Precisely. You show the most promise and possess the greatest level of skill and assortment of mutant abilities. With training and focus, you can help reshape the world in the direction of peace for your species." ,,
  23. Azure (relaunch) System: Aeon Universe Setting: Modern Earth just after the disappearance of 99.9% of the human population. Special Note: All characters must have their own log-in with the character name and avatar. ,, The Set Up: Characters will begin play just before the disappearance and play through the aftermath. All characters are normal humans, made on "baseline" Aberrant mechanics. You are allowed to play an avatar character (a version of yourself) in the game, but do note that this is a game and that conflict and setbacks are integral to compelling narratives. In other words, don't get upset when bad things happen. The character is not you. Characters will begin in Kansas City, Kansas; I don't care if your a resident or just passing through the international airport, just that your character is in the city at the start of game. ,, The disappearance will occur on April 4, 2013, a 3:04 PM. ,, Mechanics Notes: While I'll be running this primarily out of the Aberrant books, I like aspects of Adventure and Trinity, so I'm allowing those as source books as well. I'll update here with any alterations or disallowances from the books as I go over things and as you guys bring me stuff that makes my head hurt . XP costs in Azure will be done as desired rating instead of current rating. I'll be giving out xp monthly and by complete threads. Supernatural Merits, Flaws, Skills, and Backgrounds are not allowed at this point, if that wasn't clear. Vanilla on the stats, please. Channel, Kenning, Modulate, and Weave are supernatural skills. Please note skills as Skill Rank (Total Dice Pool) for each skill. This will help me be able to glance over character sheets quickly for any rolls I may need to make for you. As the characters are 'baselines', they do not start with the 3 points in Endurance and Resistance, and they also follow the baseline rules for healing. Backgrounds, at least, may be taken above 5, though not at character creation. I may extend this rule to skills and attributes as well. There is no 'power stat' being used to govern such things in the game, so we'll negotiated between ST and players as situations come up. I will always have a more favorable response to requests to go above five when there is solid role-playing and story reasons to allow such, and it does still represent higher than (at least thought) humanly possible skill or potential. If you have a four in an Attribute, it should be a major point about your character - say a model with Appearance 4, a lawyer with Manipulation 4, or an bodybuilder with Strength 4. A 5, and I'll likely not allow a character with more than one, represents that you are one of a handful of people in the world with that level of realized potential - a world-recognized genius at Intelligence 5, a world-renowned ballerina at Dexterity (and possibly Stamina) 5, a world-class spy with any of Wits, Perception, or Charisma at 5. I don't mind impressive characters, just make sure that the backstory and the mechanics line up and are interesting. Skills work the same way as Attributes. A 4 in a skill means that you are a leading professional in the field, while a 5 means that you are one of the handful of people currently defining the field. They're allowed, but they better be well-supported by your character's backstory. Public vs. Private character sheets. Character sheets in the Signature are incredibly convenient, however I do want to have a PM sheet as well, as there may be parts of your sheet you or I don't want to be public knowledge. While I'm allowing people to hang onto background points at the start of game, they must be spent by or at the end of the first plot thread (the opening story). ,, Backgrounds in Azure: Backgrounds in Azure will work somewhat like they do in all Aeon games, with the alterations listed below and the general rule that backgrounds that do not provide an immediate mechanical benefit (like Ally or Followers do) will provide advantages such as bonus dice or reduced difficulties in situations where the background applies. These situations are varied and subject to my discretion, so I'm not going to make a big laundry list of examples. The bolded words are the actual ones I'd like to see on character sheets. Ally/Mentor: Want to make sure someone is still around after the event? Take them as an ally. Allies do begin with the standard 1 in all attributes, but are otherwise devoid of any points on their sheet. The first dot in allies grants 100 XP to spend on the ally, and each dot thereafter grants 50 additional XP. Ally dots for a single ally may go above 5, but do not ever grant more than 50 additional XP. (This will be monitored and may be altered during gameplay, as it is a new and untested mechanic.) Allies cannot purchase their own allies or followers. Attunement: Not applicable at start of game. Cipher: This represents multiple identities that you have created and maintained. Each point allows you to allocate a background point for that identity. All Ciphers must be bought separately and cannot share or "stack" points of Allies, Backing, Contacts, Influence, or Followers. Citizenship: Not applicable at start of game. Contacts: Each dot represents contacts in a general area, such as Hackers, Politicians, or Street Gangs. Don't worry about minor/major, it never really gets played and if you're wanting an individual, Ally is more appropriate. Dormancy: Not applicable at start of game. Favors: Not in use, because it's just too weird. Followers: This is another way to bring people along with you or to show your ability to gather people to your side during game. Followers are far more generic and less powerful than allies, but you get more actual bodies for each dot you buy. Followers are built as level 1 allies but never gain additional XP; instead, each dot grants the new rating in new Followers (so 1 at 1 dot, 2 additional at 2 dots for a total of 3, etc). Follows cannot purchase their own allies or followers. Devices/Gadget: Not applicable at start of game. Menagerie: This is allies for animals. A base cost will be assigned to any animal a player requests for their character and I approve. Dots above that base cost grant the animal an additional 50 XP. Animals may not possess Backgrounds. Nemesis: Not in use. You want to have pissed someone off, just write it into the story. Node: Not applicable at start of game. Reputation: Not in player control. Characters will be assigned reputation by me as appropriate through gameplay. Requests for reputation through background may be made at character creation, but must be supported by a strong background and are not guaranteed, nor must/may points be spent on Reputation. Equipment/Resources: These two are paired together because after the event this will represent not a cash flow, but a character generally having on hand what they need to trade for other items or how easily they find useful items when scavenging. Resources will function in three different ways; one, when scavenging in urban and suburban areas, this replaces the survival skill; two, when trading, every third dot reduces the target number to succeed by one; three, I may call for a Resources roll to have on hand a critical piece of equipment in a scene. Sanctum: Not applicable at start of game. Backing/Rank/Status: This represents things like security clearances, rank in a military, or other such circumstances that would grant access to restricted areas or encourage those in your organization to follow your lead. ,, Please submit characters as [Azure] Character Name to this ST account. ,, Blank Character Sheet Name: Concept: Nature: Allegiance: Theme: HT: cm / ' " WT: kg/ lbs Hair: Eyes: Age: STR: PER: APP: Brawl: Artillery: Disguise: Might: Awareness: Intimidation: Throwing: Investigation: Style: Navigation: Kenning: DEX: INT: MAN: Archery: Academics: Command: Athletics: Analysis: Interrogation: Drive: Bureaucracy: Seduction: Firearms: Computer: Streetwise: Gunnery: Demolitions: Subterfuge: Heavy Weapons: Engineering: Legerdemain: Intrusion: Martial Arts: Gambling: Melee: Linguistics: Pilot: Medicine: Ride: Science: Stealth: Survival: Tradeskill: STA: WIT: CHA: Channel: Arts: Animal Training: Endurance: Biz: Carousing: Resistance: Mediation: Command: Modulate: Etiquette: Shadowing: Instruction: Tactics: Perform: Rapport: Savvy: Weave: Backgrounds Ally: Cipher: Citizenship: Contacts: Dormancy: Followers: Gadget: Menagerie: Node: Reputation: Resources: Sanctum: Status: Willpower: Initiative: Merits & Flaws Known Languages Native: Others: Movements Walk: m, Run: m, Sprint: m Soaks Base Soak: Healing Rate: Health Levels: Unhurt Bruised Hurt Injured Wounded Maimed Crippled Incapacitated Dead ,, ,, Misc: I'm not starting the game for a couple of weeks, in part because Jasmyne is very excited about playing in the game and just went on vacation, so I'm giving her time to get back and get her character together. Having character ties before the Event is mildly encouraged, though not required. ,, I'm looking for between 5 and 8 characters, ideally. I won't run the game with less than five, but I am fine with going over eight, I might just split the players into two groups at that point. ,, My caveat/warning, just to be fair: I am bipolar. I'm doing better and I seem to have found a stable combination of meds, but I may hit patches where I'm not posting much. I'll try to give heads-up if I'm head into a depressive swing, but part of the reason of switching around the formatting is so that if/when I do have down swings, you all still have interactions with each other that you can pursue and aren't left waiting on a gaggle of NPCs that are the only people your PC has to interact with. ,, ,, ,, Please let me know if you're interested and any questions or concerns you have from the proposal. Thanks!
  24. RAF Bawdsey June 1, 1941 7pm London Time ,, Alex adjusted his flight gear, nervously. He had been assisting a injured pilot who hurt himself on a rough landing a few nights ago. Flying his shifts. Although he always got nervous before a scramble. ,, "Lieutenant Aceworth!" A woman shouted, wearing a WAAF set of overalls. "Can you come here a moment, please?" ,, He nodded and ran to the hangar where normally barrage balloons were filled and maintained. There he spotted some strange wreckage. Also the woman was the person he had met earlier... when he erupted. "Ah, Miss Ravensworth, nice to see you again." ,, He sets his parachute down next to what looked like a wrecked aircraft. ,, "This... looks nothing like what we have been dog-fighting up there... With how this got mulched I'm suprised there isn't bits of a pilot here." ,, "That's the thing... no one reported finding any remains, or even anyone bailing out when one of these is shot down." ,, Alex massaged his chin. "There's still a windscreen..." ,, He runs his gloved hand in front of the clear windscreen. "... looks like treated aetherfiber instead of reenforced glass..." ,, He kneeled next to the wreck.
  25. 6 March, 3:02am Tokyo Time Tokyo, Japan Hideyoshi Estate Naomi was rummaging around in the Kitchen. Her 5 little kitens within her driving her late-night feeding spree. Pickles and Ice Cream she thought was some sort of stereotype, but damn her tail she wanted it badly. As she chewed on a pickle she turns on the television. On a NHK news channel, she sees what would make her night much more interesting. "Son of a..." The scene was a familiar one. One of a city destroyed... someone lived there... worked there... children played and lovers kissed. Now... all that is there is pain and the end of life. Something she was keenly, keenly familiar with. She adjusted her maternity gown and listened to the news intently. She had a very bad feeling about this, and things were just going to get more complicated. Kamiko had left not only the family residence, but Japan entirely, her whereabouts were once again unknown, perhaps she would find herself someday. She knew Naoko was in the house somewhere. Ryu... Ryu... Department Zero might call him! "Ryu! If you're awake you'd better get in here! IF not get your tiger-striped butt awake!" She shouted. Turning up the volume in interest. She decides to switch channels from time to time between CNN, the BBC, and NHK. Trying to appraise the situation. She massaged her chin. Knowing even she might get called in. This would be a good test of Department Zero's telepresence network system. Naomi mewed, waiting to see Ryu enter the living room. She's since forgotten she took out a pint of ice cream and the pickles, which are sitting on the table in front of her. Her sensitive nose still smelling the odd combination of smells of strawberry and dill. Her face wrinkled a little, but now she felt she shouldn't be eating at a time like this. Didn't seem proper.
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